Feeling Like the Cheese…

I often compare my cancer experience to a game of Farmer In The Dell.  Only in this version it’s Cancer that takes a wife… and a child… and a nurse.  And I, well, I am the Cheese.  And I stand alone here in my survivorship.

That’s how it feels, anyway…

Ironically, at the last appointment, my oncologist thought to talk with me about “moving on” with my life since I’m “cured” now and all.  Moving on from self-identifying as a cancer patient.  Moving on from surrounding myself with cancer blogs and cancer patients.  Moving on from the death and loss.  Is that even possible?  She postulates that at some point in survivorship it becomes unhealthy to continue hanging with the cool cancer kids.

Yeah… I get that.

That whole “moving on” thing has looked particularly appealing in the last week or so, as we of the breast cancer and Mothers With Cancer worlds hold virtual vigil at the bedside of Susan Niebur.  She has single-handedly done more for breast cancer education than anyone I’ve ever known.  Susan is  one of those people who attract others.  In fact, nearly every woman I know in the cancer world, I know because of or through, Susan.

And the world is going to lose her.

Cancer will take another wife… a mother… a planetary scientist… an advocate… a friend.

I can’t be the Cheese!  I refuse!  I will seek out the unwilling members of this effed up club!  I will support them!  I will encourage them!  I will cry with them and for them as I clutch their hands tight, refusing to let them leave the circle, too!

It’s the least I can do…




7 Responses

  1. Yes, yes, yes. I’m with you. I can’t forget my sisters who are still fighting, and those of us healthy enough to advocate need to keep advocating for them.

    I’m holding vigil also, and when I get tired I think of Susan.

  2. My hope is that there will be many cheeses and that you won’t have to stand alone. More IBC cheeses I say. It has to stop taking so many of us.

  3. You are fabulous! Cindy

  4. Wow, this struck a chord. I am also with you. Everytime one of these ladies leaves us we lose a bit of ourselves. Sarah who was diagnosed around the same time I was with the same cancer. Susan. I am having a hard time looking at the stars in the sky. It was my husband who told me (after many years of unwavering support) that I should maybe move on and from that day forward I made sure my “in private” viewing option was turned on whenever I came back to this site. We cannot leave those in the same boat behind. I am not really hiding anything from him. I just think I am sparing him the feelings that go along with worrying about me. Isn’t it funny how we all seem to worry more about those around us than ourselves. Thanks for a great post.

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