Since I posted last, much has occurred:
While still teaching, I have taken a Sabbatical from coaching this spring. I have taken the time to work on my professional life, tutoring over at the San Diego State Community Reading Clinic and working to finish up my Reading Specialist Credential. I should have everything complete by end of 2014.
I have enjoyed spending more time with Christine! This has been a blessing for sure!
In February, Christine and I delivered the inspirational speech at the Annual Mass of Hope. The transcript of the speech is below:
Fr.
Clavin, Members of the Family Cancer Support Ministry, Parishioners, Family,
and Guests, thank you for joining us tonight for the 5th Annual Mass
of Hope. With humility, Christine and I are honored to share with you our
journey with cancer and our experience with the Family Cancer Support Ministry.
Please
join us in acknowledging the members of this wonderful ministry (please stand
to be recognized).
*Before
we continue, I’d like to share with you that I saw my doctor today and am happy
to report that I am doing well!
________________________________________________________
You
have cancer.
Words that no one wants to
hear. Words that strike fear into the hearts to whom the statement is
delivered. Words that strike fear into the minds of the ones who love and care
for those who have it.
Karl Menninger, famous
psychiatrist, stated that “the very word ‘cancer’ is said to kill some patients
who would not have succumbed (so quickly) to the malignancy from which they
suffer.”
While cancer is diagnosable
and discernible as a biological mutation through medical examinations and
tests, the very label itself embodies a frame of mind that often determines
life and death. Hearing the word “cancer” is sometimes worse than the actual
disease itself.
During the year following my
diagnosis, cancer was all Christine and I talked about. It was, as St. John of the
Cross described, our Dark Night. Doctors’ appointments, medical insurance,
prescriptions, side effects from my treatment. Every ache was magnified into
another aspect of cancer. I’d come home and dump all my frustrations, anger,
angst, and fear on Christine. While Christine was supportive and understanding,
one day she had enough and turned to share her frustrations, anger, angst, and
fear with me. She had held onto these feelings for a long time because she
believed that her feelings couldn’t compare to the one who had cancer. If I
couldn’t share with my wife, with whom could I share? But I was being selfish. If
she couldn’t share with me, with whom could she share?
The conversation sticks
vividly in our memories:
Do we have to talk about the
fact that you have cancer again? Isn’t there anything else we can talk about?
You are my wife, I should be
able to share my frustrations with you about living with cancer.
Okay, you are my husband, and
I should be able to share my frustrations with you about you sharing your
frustrations with me about living with cancer.
We looked at each other,
paused, and realized that for the sake of our relationship something had to
change.
It was important for Andrew
to talk with someone who understood what it was to have cancer (thank you, Will
Hurley), dealing with treatment and side effects, while contemplating the
mortality of the whole experience. Only someone who has had cancer, is battling
cancer, or, like him, is living with cancer can relate to what that means.
It was important for me (Christine) to speak
with someone who understood what it was to live with someone with cancer (thank
you, Mary Brewer). To understand why someone who was normally positive and full
of life was now intermittently depressed and angry, or often sullen and quiet.
We started attending the
Cancer Support Ministry by chance about six months before this conversation
after we were invited by two friends (Erin and Andy Mangahis) to attend mass at
St. Gregory’s. In the bulletin on that day was a notice about the cancer
support ministry.
Through the cancer support
ministry, we learned to embrace cancer as an opportunity to love life, to love
God, to love nature, and to love each other and our families each and every day.
And through the cancer support ministry,
we emerged from our Dark Night to discover the radiant love of God and family
around us.
To have hope, one’s vision
cannot be dark and uncertain. One has to make a choice to embrace life, love,
and forgiveness, and to live each day with intent and purpose. We learned what
about life was worth living for.
We look forward to offering
support and encouragement to others who may have the diagnosis of cancer thrust
upon them. Cancer is, after all, a family illness.
Cancer is not a death
sentence.
Cancer is not the end of the
world.
Cancer is not the focus of our
lives.
Yes, we have cancer.
But it doesn’t have us.
Thank you. God be with you.
Dr. Zu has been out of town on vacation, so I haven't seen him since February. I am hoping to talk to him this week to find out the results of my latest blood work. My body is fighting something, and will feel better when I had a chance to talk to him. I have maintained my weight thanks in large part to good eating and a great appetite.
I am looking forward to vacation at the end of March. Time to re-create, re-charge, and to re-juvenate!
All my best.
