Another hard post to write: Leukemia

I have this folder in my favourites menu that I never open. It's called Leukemia. I'm not even sure what's in there anymore because I have avoided opening it for so long. I collected various websites that I thought would hold useful information about the disease over 3 years ago when I first found out that my mom had been diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL).

I have ignored it since.

I don't want to think about it. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want it in our lives.

But it's still here. And it's so freaking scary that sometimes I think I can't breathe. And every so often, I have to cry hard just to let the top level of the pain out, so I can continue on.

In so many areas of my life, I am an open book. I've always been that way, never seeing the point of trying to pretend that I'm something that I'm not. But in this area, in the dealing with the fact that my mom has cancer, I've kept my feelings pretty private. Even within my family, I have only been able to brush the surface of the realities and the fears. It's strange to be so private about something so huge, but my answer about it is often, "It sucks. I hate it and I don't want to talk about it."

Because CLL is considered a chronic illness, patients go through treatments when their symptoms start adversly affecting their quality of life. The goal isn't to erradicate the disease, but rather to put it into remission for a period of time. So, for example, my mom had 8 monthly rounds of chemo that finished nearly 3 years ago and then did fine for about 2 years. Then her symtoms returned. Now she is back on chemo.

This time, it seems to have hit us really hard. Maybe it's because she seems sicker this time. Or maybe because it feels like the disease is in control right now. Or maybe it's the feeling of defeat in that she has to go back on chemo again. We all know that chemo ain't pretty.

I find myself bouncing around between three of the stages of grief: denial, depression, and anger. The anger, though I know it is something I have to go through, is surprising. I can be ok and then it just hits me, overwhelming me with fury at the disease:

How dare you touch my mom like this? How dare you make her suffer? How dare you cut into our family like this? How dare you make us trample down this unknown path?

This is hard. This sucks. I hate it. I don't want to talk about it, but I have to. It's too big to hold inside myself.

It's here. It's real. It's in my life. It's in my family.

It's leukemia and I hate it.