The reality of today

I have spent the last ten days running from the reality of today.

…none of us would have to pray for miracle cures.

Thirty-four months ago today I was sitting next to my unconscious wife. I was holding her hand, reading to her, talking to her, and trying to bring us both to terms with the reality she had but hours left to live. I cannot say whether she came to terms with it. She died just before 8 p.m. without regaining consciousness.

The reality of loss

I do know I am still trying to come to terms with it.

…they have done their bit for cancer for the year.

It was a quiet death. There was a last hitch in her breathing, a last exhalation as I held her one last time and kissed her softly on the lips–and it was over. But the months-long struggle that led to that moment had been neither quiet nor easy. The reality of death is never as quiet or as pretty as it is made out to be in books.

The reality of NET cancer

NET cancer is a particularly nasty and drawn out way to die. So are most forms of cancer, truth be told. I’ve seen too many cancer deaths–seen too many deaths, period.

…my heart aches more today than it did a month ago.

But Jane’s was the hardest for me. If you have not lost a spouse to death I have no words capable of explaining it to you. And if you have, you do not need me to explain it. You know what it is. The closest I can come is to say it is watching yourself die and then having to go on living without half your soul. But that misses the reality by so many miles that it is not even in the same galaxy.

The reality of dreams

Some days I want to walk away from everything: I want to sell this house and everything in it; I want to leave this city and this region; I want to turn my back on this foundation, on NET cancer, on cancer–on all of it. I want to find a quiet spot on the side of a mountain somewhere and spend my days crying and my nights howling like a soulless creature until consciousness flees and I can forget this hollow darkness I live in.

Some days I want to walk away from everything…

That is a dream–and a tempting one. Reality makes demands that erase that dream. Jane’s battle with NET cancer and the things I have done since her death are helping to make a difference in the lives of others. There are more resources to work with than we had when she was diagnosed; we know more about the disease; we have new ideas about how to treat people who have it–how to make their lives longer and more comfortable, even if we do not yet have an inkling of an actual cure.

The reality of pink

But my heart aches more today than it did a month ago. The hoopla of Breast Cancer Awareness Month with its tsunamis of pink and its attitude that there is just one kind of cancer and that if we could just get every woman in the world to check her breasts regularly we’d have cancer eliminated by the end of the month wears thin very quickly when you know every part of that is a lie–and even more quickly when you have lost someone to some other form of cancer.

NET cancer is a particularly nasty and drawn out way to die.

It makes me angry. And it makes me inconsolably sad. Especially this year as I watch a friend of my youth wrestle with metastatic triple-E negative breast cancer. Five percent of the money the NFL raises this month through its pink-washing deal will go to breast cancer research. In fact, only a tiny fraction of all the money raised this month will find its way to that research.

The reality of NET cancer

But everyone will go home happy believing they have done their bit for cancer for the year.

…I am still trying to come to terms with it.

November 10, the 35 month anniversary of Jane’s death, is NET Cancer Awareness Day. It’s a Sunday. But not one NFL team will wear zebra patterned shoes or helmets that day. Outside the NET cancer community, few will notice it even took place. Some races and walks will happen. I’ll try to do my social mediathon thing. We’ll raise, worldwide, that day less money than 10 good size Relays for Life. For the entire year, we’ll raise less than what amounts to a rounding error of what the breast cancer charities will raise this month.

Reality sucks

The difference is nearly every nickel we raise will go to NET cancer research.

I have spent the last ten days running from the reality of today.

I wish every cancer group could say the same. Maybe then none of us would have to pray for miracle cures.

Some days, reality sucks.