For decades this weekly space has featured personal reflections from our editorial staff.
The authors have shared various topics and experiences, and some have talked about cancer — either their own personal battles or those of family members.
I’ve read their words, sometimes through tears of joy for the author’s triumph, and sometimes with deepest empathy at the loss of life.
My logical self tells me daily that we will die sometime.
In the meantime, we should live our lives each day to the fullest because we don’t know when our time on Earth will run out.
My other self just can’t get past that someone’s seemingly healthy life suddenly turns and faces death sooner than expected.
What would I do if faced with the same experience?
Would I be happy and carefree right up to the last minute?
Or would I wallow in self-pity, cry hysterical tears because my time was coming near.
My niece received news late last month that the brain tumor removed 10 years ago is back.
And it’s back with a vengeance after not being there six months ago.
She suffered a seizure — an event she hates more than the word cancer — sending her to the hospital and an immediate MRI.
She’s weighing her options for treatment — looking forward in life, while my own mind floats unfocused, thinking about the “what ifs” and the “what could happen.”
Ten years ago that first cancer diagnosis at age 20 didn’t stop Heather from moving forward. She went through radiation, chemotherapy and ultimately surgery with her mom and dad at her side.
She beat the cancer the first time.
Can she do it again?
This time the decision-making includes Heather’s husband and two small children.
As they wait for doctors to suggest a treatment, my niece is planning improvements around the acreage they recently purchased.
Eventually Heather’s horses will move to their new home. Among the animals is Stormy, the horse my sister had at the time of her death 10 years ago.
I recall praying for a favorable outcome for my sister – Heather’s mother, but my faith in God was tested when those prayers ended with a funeral.
I commend those who face medical emergencies while reassuring those not facing an end to life that somehow things will be OK.
As I turn the subject of living with cancer over and over in my head, I am hoping the same calm my niece has found for moving forward is also found in me.