I have five blogs in draft form. I could publish them today, but for the past week I’ve wrestled with which direction I want to take my blog.
When I originally sought to step out and maintain my own website (wayyy back in 2003), my intention was to share anomalies like the horror of finding a plain M&M in a bag full of peanut M&Ms (which has since faded away into eternal obscurity).
I loved the creativity of capturing funny or observational humor for posterity without having to get on stage and tell jokes in front of actual living, breathing people staring back at me.
Although many of my friends enjoyed reading my posts, I didn’t harbor any ambition to pursue writing as a career. I was a sloppy writer.
And then there was CML.
When I was diagnosed with CML in January of 2006, I made a conscious decision to move forward with my life. I wanted to do what I had to do to overcome cancer and get back to my prior reality.
As I’ve documented, I struggled with seeing my treatment to completion, which was awfully consistent with the other avenues of my own disinterest.
When I began writing about my journey, I did so because I knew it would bring out the natural curiosity of those who may have struggled with many other of life’s difficulties.
I wanted to be honest, open, truthful about the path God had placed me on while similarly communicating an illness that many others, including myself, didn’t fully understand. I set out to encourage, provide hope, and bring to life a four-dimensional world few people ever get to see.
Throughout the process, I started paying attention. I payed attention to the things surrounding me, processed feelings more intentionally, and became more mindful of what I was writing down.
If it took me hours to finish a single post, I finished it. And then I read it over and over again (despite loathing the proofreading process). I became a better writer and communicator, but I was still eagerly anticipating a return to a life I once knew.
The response has been overwhelming. I’ve received a lot of positive feedback from those who’ve taken the time to read my blog.
Many have written and encouraged me to continue telling my story, while others have shared their own.
It’s been a blessing to have friends share the impact my story has had on their lives or the lives of someone they know. At a very small level, my goal of expressing the most vulnerable time of my life has been accomplished. I set out to be an encourager and people returned encouraged.
Now that the dust of a tumultuous season has settled, I’ve struggled with what to write about.
I’m an introvert at heart. Opening up my world isn’t easy. Stepping away from the climax of cancer treatment has left room to second guess my intent to keep talking about an experience that has brought indirect and direct attention to my story.
I’m sensitive to the possible misinterpretations one might have of thinking that I by the extension of my blog, is self-indulgent, or that I want this to be about me. It’s not, and it never has been.
When people tell me they’ve read my blog, I ask if my words are translating the way I want it to. It’s difficult to write about the struggles of things I can’t control.
There’s a fine line between an attempt to communicate the life I’m living and throwing together a novel of self-pity.
Outside of my blog, I’m at a point where I need to start thinking of ways for life to get back to normal. I’ve been blessed with the time-off of work I’ve needed for appointments, trips to Houston, and to manage the ups and downs of life within a clinical trial.
I’ll go back to work and school soon, and will need to carve out an unknown path littered with doctor’s appointments and lab visits. I’ve had to make a decision about whether it would beneficial for me to continue to think, read, and write about cancer or if I should focus on a life outside of it all.
Living a New Reality
For six years, I’ve walked the thin line of leukemia. There have been some ups, downs, but most of my experience has resided somewhere in the middle.
I’ve fought for six years against a “new reality.” I wanted to return to a life free of cancer, far from the unpredictable, safe in the arms of an all-forgiving youth.
Like Babe Ruth in the fifth inning of game 3 of the 1932 World Series, I wanted to point to center field and call my shot; I wanted to be somebody who merely talked about having overcome cancer instead of living it.
Two months ago, when I learned the minor vision impairment in my right eye was likely permanent, I realized I wasn’t Babe Ruth. The effects of fighting a physical battle within my body had produced its first casualty, and all I had to do was open my eyes to understand a new reality. Even if I want to return to a carefree world, the affliction of a protocol called DCC-2036 has left its mark.
I’ve shared all of this with Katie. I’ve shared my fleeting desire to get involved with the world of cancer one minute, while fighting the reservation and fear of embracing a new reality the next.
Much like a student walking onto an intimidating, exclusive college campus for the second or third time, I’ve been reluctant to stay long enough to find my voice.
She’s reminded me of the natural tools and abilities I’ve been given to make a difference in the world of somebody who’s experiencing an equally challenging period of their lives. She says I’m too humble, and that I don’t give myself enough credit for the way I make people feel.
Then it hit me. If I stop sharing my story, my fears will come true. If I allow myself the opportunity to use my story, mishaps, strengths, and gifts God has given me for the cause of cancer, then I may impact, or even save, at least one person’s life.
To care about other people is to press on and press in, to get involved and impact lives. The best thing I can do is embrace a movement to empower, encourage, and give hope to those living with cancer or any of life’s challenges. Instead of using my energy to outrun my circumstances, I want to embrace all that has led me to where I am today.
So that’s what I will do. I’ve realized the books marked three quarters of the way to the end are the ones I still have to finish. My story just so happens to be one of them.
I’m going to continue to write about all kinds of things, but cancer will still be one of them. I never intended for this to be a cancer blog, I just wanted to share my personal experiences.
Now, my vision is to make it a blog of hope, humor, and inspiration. If my story happens to be a part of making that happen, then it was never really about me to begin with.
“2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2-4)
“Consider it a sheer gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don’t try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way.” (James 1:2-4 MSG)