It isn’t that I was having a particularly bad day. I wasn’t throwing up–like I’d done the last two Fridays and Saturdays. I wasn’t as tired as I’d been the day before, when I’d had to take two different naps. There was no pain to address. I just felt generally icky. And generally tired.
When my mom and my best friend asked how I was feeling, I could report on that, and they both responded with something along the lines of, “Oh good! Glad it’s not so bad today.”
Here’s the thing, though. It didn’t feel good. I could recognize that it was better than some other days, but I was tired, and I was tired of being tired and feeling sick. I just wanted a day where I picked what I would eat based on what I wanted rather than what wouldn’t make me feel even worse. I wanted to want to sit at my desk and work, and I didn’t. I knew I had nothing concrete to complain about…but the constantness of feeling bad weighed heavily that day, and as David and I went to bed that night, we talked a little about it.
And we talked about happy endings. Maybe this is going to sound strange, LOL, but bear with me.
A friend sent me a book called 50 Days of Hope: Daily Inspiration for Your Journey through Cancer by Lynn Eib. This is a truly beautiful little book that I absolutely love. In it, Lynn tells about her own cancer diagnosis when she was only 36, and how she kept running into people who wanted to tell her all about other people with cancer…many of whom died. She learned to interrupt them and ask, “Does this story have a happy ending? Because if not, I don’t want to hear it.”
I love that–it made me grin when I read it. It’s something I’ve observed a lot in the Type 1 Diabetes community as well, that as soon as a child is diagnosed, people want to tell stories about this or that person they knew who died of complications…and that is SO NOT HELPFUL. When you hear a teen gets their license, the first thing you say shouldn’t be, “So-and-so was killed in an accident on their very first solo drive,” right? That’s not helpful. Obviously bad things happen to people, but those don’t need to be the stories we dwell on constantly. Let’s instead tell stories of people being victorious, of people being successful, of people defying the odds, doing great things, finding healing.
And yet…I’ve noticed something else as the reality of cancer treatments stretches out day after day.
Sometimes, happy endings feel pretty mocking…when you’re in the midst of the rocky middle.
I’ve heard countless stories during this time, all meant to be encouraging, of people who “weren’t sick a day of treatment” or who “didn’t miss a day of work.” Now, at the outset, before I’d gotten started, I loved these stories. These were the happy endings I wanted to hear about! This was the hope I wanted to cling to!
But…
But my reality looks different, which I discovered as I went. I am sick. I am tired. If I had a traditional job, I’d be missing some days, or at least some hours. Maybe “many people never even get sick,” but I’m one of the ones who has, and after hanging over the toilet, those stories of other people who didn’t aren’t so encouraging anymore.
Here’s the funny thing, though. It isn’t that they’re discouraging or that I feel jealous of their experience. It’s that I feel a strange sort of shame, like I’m not doing it right. Now, I know intellectually this is silly. But it’s a real thing we experience sometimes, isn’t it? We feel as though we ought to have been able to do something to make it that way instead of this way. We feel like if they could do it without missing a day of work, then we ought to have been able to manage it too, and we’re somehow falling short. We’re a disappointment. We’re a failure. We feel as though we ought to have chosen something different, when the fact is that we don’t always get to choose.
We feel as though people are judging us as weak. Even though we know they (probably) aren’t, the thought is still there. I’m not “doing cancer” as well as she did. I’m not as tough. I’m not as strong. I’m not as able.
In those moments, other people’s stories, other people’s happy endings aren’t necessarily what we need to hear.
There is a happy ending on the horizon–I 100% believe that. But right now? Right now, I’m not in that part of the book. We’re still in the middle of the story, and sometimes I love just looking at it like a writer. Because then I can see that my inciting incident has to lead to some twists and turns. It has to include dark moments and wrestling with lies. It has to feel sometimes like “all is lost.” It has to, because those are the elements of a good story…and good stories borrow their elements from real life.
It has to have those negative things, because life does. And because the beautiful moments, the wins, the victories, the climaxes are only amazing because of the dark places.
Lynn Eib mused in her wonderful little book that she’d never met anyone who took their diagnosis totally in stride and didn’t experience fear or denial or get upset, at least a little. Well, I can honestly say that my diagnosis had none of those things. Because, I said, I’m a novelist. I’d already explored all the different plot options. I’d played them all out like a story in my mind, so when I got the news, I seriously thought, “Okay, Lord. This is the story you’re writing for me then. Okay. Let’s do it.”
And it still feels that way. I’m not afraid or depressed or defeated. But you know what…that doesn’t mean I get to skip to the happy ending, either. I’m still in the midst of it, and the midst involves some not-pleasant parts. I would have loved to be one of “those people” who bypassed some of these side-effects, but I’m not. There’s no shame in that, no weakness, no regret. Right now, I’m living through the rocky middle. It isn’t fun, and I don’t like doing it.
But I know it’s what leads me to the place I want to end up. I know that my role through it is to live it well and live it with God and live it with hope. My role is to know that even when it isn’t easy, there’s no shame in it being hard.
It’s so easy to compare our stories to other peoples’, both those who have it worse and those who have it better. But their story isn’t ours. Today, for that matter, is neither yesterday nor tomorrow. We only have our own stories, and we only have now. So let’s live them in the way God gives them to us. Knowing that tomorrow the page will turn, and even though we may not be able to anticipate how or when or where…God is still leading us toward that happy ending of each ordeal. All we have to do is walk it out.
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Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.
Whenever I’m tempted to compare like that, I remember in 3rd grade when I was starting to need glasses but hadn’t gotten them yet, I would have to get closer to the blackboard in order to read it. And one of my classmates would come stand by my desk and say, “You can see fine from here!” But I couldn’t. It didn’t mean I was weak or doing something wrong. It simply meant that we didn’t have the same eyes.
Thank you for sharing this, Rosanna! I have a different illness, but I love how you framed the journey. The last two paragraphs brought me to tears and ministered especially deeply to my spirit.
So glad it resonated, Kelly! Whatever our illness or condition, I think that is true for all of us. <3
Roseanna,
What a beautiful post. Your word show such wisdom and I’m sure they are an inspiration to many. I continue to keep you and your family in my prayers.
Thank you so much, Kelly!
I love your article because it is so true. In their rush to say something “helpful” people sometimes say things that are hurtful and not needed.
This is something I tell the patients who call me. I remind them to take its person’s experience with a grain of salt. Do not compare yourself to others. I have to remember this my self in my relationship with God.
My prayers are with you and your loved ones. Please check out Send Me on A Vacation.
So true! Comparison sneaks into everything, doesn’t it? And is never helpful! (And I’ll check out that website, thank you!)
I can so relate to everything you wrote. I remember writing in my journal “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired. I just want to feel normal.”
And sometimes people said things that were not at all helpful whether it was stories with tragic endings or Pollyanna pretend stories where everything was just fine.
Right?? Normal…I long for normal, LOL.
Roseanna, I am one of those readers in the background who LOVES your books. I also love your willingness to share what is true and real in this battle you are going through. You are an inspiration to me, even when you feel yucky, even when the days are hard, even when it is hard to see the end. I pray for you often. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much for your prayers, Rebecca! I decided at the start that I would walk through this as I do through the other things in my life–with openness and vulnerability and with the prayer that what God teaches me can be a benefit to others as well. <3
Just remember, your cancer is not the same as everyone else’s, nor is your treatment or for that matter your body. Each case, each treatment and each person is different. While I totally get what you’re saying, there is not a way to compare. ( Just because you are an over achiever and get a lot of the side effects 😉 Be gentle with yourself- this is your story an only yours. You are handling it like a Champ! Come on 10,000 words the other day. You rock❣️❣️
Absolutely right, Mama–though we all know that “don’t compare” is easier said than done! 😉 Something I have to relearn regularly, in each different circumstance.
Interestingly, your acute illness musings apply beautifully to those of us who have chronic illnesses; every one knows someone who cured herself by…. knows someone with the exact same diagnosis(es) and never complained, never missed a beat and was sooo inspiring… knows someone who just pushed through and kept on carrying on… knows someone with a much more severe illness who is doing more and handling things better….
I have struggled mightily with keeping my identity centered on who I am in Christ and holding onto his expectations over others’. He doesn’t expect me to react just like those other people because a) I am not they and b) our stories are different. We each have unique plot twists and side characters to deal with; different antagonists, too.
Thank you for the encouraging words to help maintain perspective, especially on those challenging days that aren’t as bad as they could be but are so far from where we want them to be! Those days seem to be extra trying.
Those days can indeed be the hardest mentally and emotionally! And yes, it’s a continual challenge to keep our identities rooted in Him through long trials. I know mine has an “end” in sight, but we have much chronic illness in our family too, and I see so many similarities!
How true and how beautifully expressed, Roseanna. From the moment you shared your diagnosis you have inspired me. I was not “one of those” people who escaped sickness during chemo, either. I needed my husband to take me for treatments, couldn’t eat for days, couldn’t read more than a paragraph I had to repeat numerous times, and couldn’t write–for months. I read this week that you wrote 10,000 words in one day–during these months of chemo! I’ve never written 10,000 words in one day before or since cancer. You are a warrior and God has gifted you in so many ways. I’m thrilled to see the way you honor Him not only through your writing but especially through this cancer journey. I hope you realize what a great encouragement and encourager you are. Comparison with others, whether with their journey or their accomplishments, never helps, never edifies. We are all part of the body of Christ, placed and gifted as it pleases and glorifies Him, as opportunities to help and bless one another. Thank you for reminding us. Well done, Daughter of the King!
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It’s my deepest prayer to honor Him through this journey, Cathy! And you’ve been such an encouragement to me. I know we’ve only met in person once and exchanged a few emails before all this, but I so appreciate you sharing your story with me and keeping me in your prayers!
That is so beautifully put. Having been on my own journey through cancer as I told you, I heard those stories of how people run marathons and worked. And they came to chemo by themselves when I always needed my husband with me. We all have our own journey. None are the same. I’m inspired by you and all that you share. And I’m praying for you.
I like to remind myself that I wouldn’t be running a marathon when not on chemo either, LOL. 😉 But those marathon runners probably aren’t writing as I am. Or doing what YOU chose to do with what energy you had. We all make choices, and those are part of us and our journeys as well. Thank you so much for your prayers, Jan!