Elephants and Tea - December 2019 - 40

Dear Cancer...

Dear cancer,
I know we got off to a rocky start in our relationship, I guess that is something that could have
been expected, considering our relationship was
unlike most. I was busy trying to kill you, while
you were busy trying to kill me... it's a bit hard to
get to know someone or something under those
circumstances. But there we were, doing what
we both do best, surviving.
Now that it's been almost twenty years
later, I have had a lot of time to reflect on
the fifteen months that I fought you, battled
you, and hated you. The fifteen months you
drug me through your hell. You changed me
in so many ways. Most days I'm grateful for
the change and other days, I slightly resent
it. I find myself wondering who I would have
been without that change, without you, after
all I was only eleven when we met, my life
hadn't even fully started. I was just a child
who was thrown into what should have been
a grown-up's world. These boxing gloves felt
far too big, but there I was putting them on,
lacing them up to the best of my abilities and
getting ready for our match.
There I was, eleven years old, suiting up
against this enemy I didn't even know. I
knew nothing about you besides the fact that
you wanted me dead, and you had already
begun to take me down quickly without my
acknowledgment. Therefore, the first thing I
learned about you was that you played dirty,
you fought an unfair match. You came into
my life so quickly and abruptly, almost like
Mother Nature when she is mad and on the
loose. No signs, no warnings, no nothing.
Anything and everything in her path can and

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will be destroyed... that was you. You were on
a mission and I was standing firmly in your
way...you were not happy.
Here I was, standing on this unfamiliar
turf, completely and utterly ready for war. I
had always been a peacemaker and a peaceful person. I never liked conflict or drama,
I avoided it at any and all cost. I especially
did not like war. I never understood why
people could not get along and learn to live
together. You came into my life and showed
me exactly why. There I was, this just barely
turned eleven-years-old, suiting up for war.
I was mad, completely livid and absolutely
enraged. You were slowly taking things from
me that were mine and only mine, they were
never yours for the taking. You were slowly
building your home in me when that home was
never vacant. I quickly found myself putting
on my war paint and bellowing my battle cry.
I needed you dead and I without a doubt did
not care to what extent I had to go to rid of
you. I wanted you dead at all cost. No matter
how many times they had to open me up, how
much poison was pushed down my veins, how
many tubes I had hanging from my body, or
how radioactive I had to become. I wanted you
dead even if it meant almost killing myself,
even at eleven years old. You were going to die
one way or another, with or without me. This
was a side of me, that you showed me, I never
knew existed and for that I'm grateful. I now
know what I am capable of and how much I
can withstand. Like a willow in a hurricane,
my roots are strong and deep, I only have you
to thank for that.
Then, there was the aftermath. The after of
you. I honestly thought my battle with you was

the worst it could have gotten. I was wrong,
I was so wrong. Rebuilding myself after you,
at almost thirteen years old, was absolutely
brutal. That alone was devastating all in itself.
Coming back from the almost dead is a scary
and incredibly hard thing. There were times I
questioned my survival and why I didn't just
let you take me.
My life would never be the same in wake
of your aftermath. You destroyed me... we
destroyed each other, in the most horribly,
painfully destructive way and I was the one
paying for it on a daily, sometimes hourly
basis. You had been set free, but I was not. I
was now trapped in this body that no longer
worked the way it once did. I was trapped in a
living and ongoing hell. Here I was at almost
thirteen years old, realizing that my life would
never be the same. Realizing that I would never meet society's definition of "normal", not
even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
There had been too much damage. But it
was worth it, right? Worth the PTSD, worth
the night terrors, the flash backs, and being
haunted by the memory of you most days? Was
it worth the pain that shot through my body
at times? Like thousands of fireworks shooting off at once. Were you worth the anxiety
and depression and not being able to get out
of bed? Were you worth the panic attacks?
The ones that stormed my life in an instant
and left me curled up on the floor just trying
to somehow breathe. Were you really worth
not being able to open and use my mouth
properly? Worth the daily struggle of eating
and even brushing my teeth? Was the death
of you worth all of this and so much more?
Were you really worth me trying to claw my
way up from the almost dead?
You were worth it. It might not have seemed
like it at the time, but as time rolled on like the
fleeting of summer and the folding of winter,
you became worth the daily struggles. You
were worth the cancer family I gained. You
were worth the lifelong friends I would make.
You were worth the knowledge I had attained.
You were worth the place I would soon call my
second home and all of the kids I would come
to help later on in life. You had plans for me
that I couldn't clearly see until much later. I
thank you for that. I thank you for giving me
the tools I needed to turn around and help
others. I thank you for allowing me to be a
beacon of hope in the mist of another's fog.
Thank you for allowing me to be lighthouse
that helps guide them to their destination,

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Elephants and Tea - December 2019

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