Chapter Fourteen: The Rest of Your and My Story

Chapter Fourteen: The Rest of Your and My Story 

Chapter Thirteen

The Rest of the Story

The rest of the story has yet to be written. The future lies in blank pages before each of us. The rest of the story is your story and your family’s story. By recording it in writing, documents, photos, etc., you will preserve experiences for yourself and your posterity. You and they will know what you endured, overcame, and became. As much as you think you will remember the poignant details forever, you won’t. Memories and facts fade.

My friend Kim is a young mother who knows how important it is to keep records of her children’s lives. She tries to write down adorable, profound, and funny things they say and do. One such event happened that she knew she should save for posterity. But life was crazy at the moment, so she scribbled the word “ouch” on a sticky note and went on attending to the craziness. A couple of weeks later she found the sticky note and could not remember what “ouch” referred to. That’s how life goes. If you don’t write it soon, the precious moment is gone forever.

Recording your history has another positive. Your cancer history will freeze in time more than just your cancer experience. Other aspects of your personality will be preserved—your speech patterns, your daily life, your hopes, dreams, desires, disappointments, adversities, and faith. Present and future generations will thank you, and you’ll thank yourself when you write more than just “ouch” on a sticky note.

The rest of your story includes securing interactions with good friends that can be relived only if they are recorded. I have safeguarded in my history the memory of Sarah at the bed and breakfast in Wyoming. I hold dear the memory of Ellan Jeanne who hugged me, held my hands, and cried with me. "Whatever you need," she said. "I'll be there for you.” I like remembering Diana who tells people that I was the first person she called after she was diagnosed. She says my first words to her were, “Diana, you are in for the adventure of a lifetime.” I don’t remember saying exactly those words but since I feel a cancer diagnosis is an opportunity-dense education, albeit a forced one, to grow and learn, I’ll admit; I probably did say what Diana says I said. These memories enrich the present.

The rest of my story is the role my children played at my second diagnosis. When the word metastatic appeared on my diagnosis, my initial reaction was to let the cancer run its course and not take any treatment. I made the mistake of telling one of my daughters that I didn’t think I was going to survive. Within hours the word had spread throughout the family. My children and children by marriage began calling, emailing, and texting, telling me how important my life was to them and how much they wanted me to be at this or that event many years in the future. They brought food and invited Richard and me to dinner more often than usual. Gifts began arriving—pajamas, a robe, slippers, a box full of snacks and remedies to help with the side effects of chemo, a fleece throw, a wool blanket, flowers, candy, and an iPad. I felt loved and needed. About a month later, my daughter Liz called to tell me that five of her acquaintances had relatives that had decided to accept their cancer diagnosis as a death sentence by refusing treatment. When these acquaintances heard about my situation and that I was going to do surgery, chemo, and radiation, they each, independently, told Liz that I was courageous. It does take courage and love for life and for the living.

The rest of the story is your journey. You are a survivor because as you know, qualifying to be a survivor isn’t measured in days, months, or years. It’s measured in courage and love. Survivorship isn’t how long you live but how well you live. That’s why keeping a record is, in my opinion, essential. If I hadn’t written all you’ve read when it happened, how much could I remember and how much would be accurate? Only a fraction. When you include in your cancer history not only facts, data, and details but also your attitude, faith, and how you endured, your life extends beyond the bounds of however short or long your lifetime turns out to be. This is the way your cancer will bless many lives—your own, your immediate family, extended family, friends, and generations beyond.