Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

Our Land: How Long Would You Like To Live?

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Today’s Our Land Series post was written by my amazing friend Zoe of Rewritten. Zoe is one of Tucker’s biggest cheerleaders and her enthusiasm over his dare-devilness has brought me smiles and hope and confidence, more often than I can name. I admire her a lot, and appreciate her friendship so much. She’s simply awesome. She’s been through a lot. Of course, she’ll be the first to dismiss that, but trust me that she has. She’s wonderful, and is finishing a BOOK. I can’t wait to read it. She’s contributed before, with this powerful piece about her partner, going back to Tibet… if you haven’t read it, it’s a must-read. Seriously. After this one, of course.

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Our Land: How Long Would You Like To Live?

I want to thank Kristi for allowing me to continue bombarding her with my little rants. It’s great to have a place to bring an idea and know that despite what people may think, it will be heard. 

I went searching for pertinent quotes that I could use to write this post. Finding one would have no doubt made it much easier to write. I did find a few – like my personal favorite – which doesn’t illustrate my point, but does make me laugh.

My veins are filled, once a week with a Neapolitan carpet cleaner distilled from the Adriatic … However I still get around and am mean to cats. John Cheever

As with most quotes about cancer and the like, many were too sappy for my taste. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but let’s just say I was pretty much left to my own devices.

I’m So Confused! 

Life often demands we acknowledge the presence of absurdity in our everyday lives. Living with illness has afforded me an intimate perspective of these paradoxes and how they intertwine on a regular basis.

I am no different from anyone else, yet as fate would have it, I have been singled out to live the majority of my life with a disease that has been described by better writers than myself as being, “as rare as it is unpredictable, ‘smoldering’ in some people for decades, turning others to quick tender.” *

The way I see it is, being ill for the long haul is a paradox in and of itself. I mean who knew that you could have cancer for decades? Yes, I have rolled the proverbial snake eyes in terms of my health, but I am still not very different than those who suffer with other, more widespread illnesses (people with neurological and systemic disorders, even people living with the aftereffects of a stroke, head injury, or birth defect. I could continue ad nauseum).  What it amounts to is that I am writing from a perspective of someone with a unique and incurable disease, and, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that my experience is not unique at all. I believe that what I write here is true of most people living with any chronic illness. 

I was diagnosed in my late twenties. At that time I had swollen lymph nodes much like I had experienced throughout my entire life. I had one lump in my neck since the age of eleven which doctors year after year would brush off with a nonchalant “lots of people have chronically swollen glands.”

Nothing to worry about, right? 

The fact is that I probably had lymphoma at that time, but was not experiencing any other observable symptoms. Truth be known, I didn’t have any effects of poor health until treatment started in my early thirties. Therein lies the paradox of illness. Many cancer patients will progress and feel worse with treatment. Many will die. Much suffering occurs that is not directly related to the symptoms of illness. The remedies can cause problems that the cancer would not—some from which people cannot recover. 

Living becomes a tradeoff, trying to balance time against function. 

During chemo, you’re more tired than you’ve ever been. It’s like a cloud passing over the sun, and suddenly you’re out. You don’t know how you’ll answer the door when your groceries are delivered. But you also find that you’re stronger than you’ve ever been. You’re clear. Your mortality is at optimal distance, not up so close that it obscures everything else, but close enough to give you depth perception. Previously, it has taken you weeks, months, or years to discover the meaning of an experience. Now it’s instantaneous. ~Melissa Bank

I am forever grateful for the opportunity to live well beyond my expected life span. Please do not misunderstand that… I am, however well aware of the struggle and the confusing paradox that exists between living and dying.  Through that lens I realize that the previous quote is true, but clarity is fleeting. The bloom will leave the rose. 

How long would you like to live?

How long would you like to live

How would you like to spend that time? Living? Or surviving? Would you want that time if it meant that you might be so fatigued on a daily basis that you would have to stop most if not all activity by three in the afternoon? If that level of fatigue never went away after treatments were done?

It will be present all day, every day, and increase after even minimal activity.  Anything beyond a casual stroll will no longer be available to you. You have to plan the stroll so you don’t overdo it that day. Perhaps you’ve lost major organs or the partial function of others. You no longer digest properly, you can’t even pee like you used to. You may be incontinent and have to worry whenever you go out in public or to family functions.

You have time, but it is littered with weekly trips to the hospital for intravenous treatments where needles connect you to tubing that delivers chemicals that often leave you nauseated for days. There will be frequent hospitalizations because of your new inability to fight off infections.

Each week, you visit with others who are in the same or more deeply sinking boats—knowing that suddenly, one of you may not be back.

Those are just the physical side effects—they don’t include the toll it takes on your social life. I’m not talking about dating. I’m referring to becoming financially unstable because treatment has a cost that is often not covered by insurance. There’s missed time at work.  You may have to leave work entirely.

Are you prepared to learn the fine art of negotiation? You’re going to need it if your insurance company decides to put a price on your life. It may become necessary to mortgage the house, or find a spare thousand to travel for that second opinion at the Cancer Institute. Do you have family or friends that can lend you some support? How much more bad news can you give people you love without feeling guilty? You are not the only one making sacrifices here.

Yet you’re grateful to be alive. Go figure!

These are the paradoxes of illness. We all want to survive. We’re genetically bred for it. Thank God we have the options, but are you prepared for the physical and emotional costs? These and others are the daily contradictions we become accustomed to dealing with.

Most physicians won’t approach you about faith because they won’t be comfortable enough in the pervue of non-science. Yet, if you mention spirituality to any oncologist, you’re likely to get nothing but encouragement. Ask anyone who is faithful and sick, and they will most likely tell you it’s their hope and devotion to God that gets them through the hardest times of their illness. Confidence in a higher power lends confidence to the self.

[lpoklSpiritual support is encouraged, as is psychiatric support. Yet, in discussing this with my colleagues (in psych), there is an overwhelming implication that faith is seen as a form of denial, a defense from the ugly truth. Speaking to my peers in intravenous rooms, many have forgone therapy for religion.

However, as is evidenced by where we had this discussion, all have put their faith in the science of medicine, but are hoping that God sees fit to answer their prayers for health. So where will the two cross paths? 

Studies of people who have survived long term trauma like war camp imprisonment or lost at sea in a life boat, will tell you that the optimists do not survive.** Constantly believing they will prevail, leads to repetitive disappointment and an eventual giving up. When you give up, you die. The optimists are the first to jump ship. The pessimists will go next, for the obvious truth that there was very little faith in a positive outcome from the start, but they in some way accepted that they would most likely not make it out alive. The pessimists gave up next. When you give up, you die. So who survives? The pragmatists will inherit the Earth. Practical people have faith in their own belief systems. While arguing with my psych colleagues, this means, “So what if for you, God translates to denial… it doesn’t mean that to me and that’s what’s important here.” If I can accept what I cannot change, and change how I react to that, I will not give up. Why? Because when you give up, you die. 

How does one do that? How can you make peace with “Please answer my prayers” when the life is being drained out of you?

Okay, so here is where I lay a little acquired knowledge on you.

What I Have Learned From Living With Cancer 101.

I often worry about my relationship with God and spirituality overall because I don’t feel like I pay it enough mind. There are times I used to feel as though I was moving away from God because I found myself praying when I needed it and never mind the rest.

I don’t think I’m rationalizing when I say that I no longer think that way, and now realize I don’t pray to be rid of this illness or to not have to deal with it, but instead find myself asking for the strength to manage what I already have. I have influence, but one thing cancer has taught me is that life is clearly not up to me and another plan is also in play. So while I can now deal with the idiotic occurrences in life (e.g. when my health insurance gets discontinued for no apparent reason) better than I ever did, I am not one to be thankful for my illness and will probably not start now.  I do see the benefits of tolerating my situation verses expecting miracles. It’s kind of like if I’m driving down my street and see all kinds of emergency and fire vehicles around the house and I think “Please God, don’t let that be my house!” I don’t think the fire will miraculously stop and move to my neighbor’s place. Perhaps I should be thinking “If it is my house, God… help me to deal with it.” It is truly one of those “Thy will be done,”***sort of moments isn’t it? 

Good can happen

It’s all so confusing, because who doesn’t want to believe that life will be fair? Who wants to give up their plans, because God has another one for you? Who wants to suffer, realizing that it’s part of the overall design?

The paradox of illness, faith and life is that there will be suffering, and with suffering comes acquired knowledge and strength. It doesn’t have to make sense. It most likely won’t make sense.

Accepting that you don’t have to like it, but you may have to live with it is what will ultimately help you do just that.

unnamed (13)Zoe blogs under an assumed name. She has an inordinate love for her dog Skip for whom she started her first blog Tale of a Caniche. When not working as a psychotherapist, she contributes to her more recent blog, rewritten dedicated to the eventual and shameless promotion of her book and other inanities. She also co-hosts a poetry blog with Lizzi the Considerer at The Well Tempered Bards.

*My Bright Abyss: Meditation of a Modern Believer by Christian Wiman.
**The Survivors Club by Ben Sherwood, 2009
***”The Our Father” The Bible, Matthew 6:9


  • zoe - Awe Kristi! You are the best! Well next to my number one adventure man of course! Thanks so much for the intro, but really the opportunity to be on a site like yours is just so perfect… thanks so much! xo me and skipsSeptember 11, 2014 – 10:20 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Thank you so much for your wonderful words, Zoe! You and Skip are fabulously fabulous.September 11, 2014 – 10:52 amReplyCancel

  • zoe - do I get to say frist when I wrote part of the entry???? tough! FRIST!September 11, 2014 – 10:21 amReplyCancel

  • Kristi Campbell - Totally.September 11, 2014 – 10:52 amReplyCancel

  • christine - Zoe, you are one wise woman.September 11, 2014 – 1:11 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - 0:)… oh wait… you said smart not angelic… now I have you doubting the smart part! Thanks Christine! It was a long read for a woman with as many kids to run after as you do!Although its Thurs and as I recall that is Cuckoo home day!September 11, 2014 – 5:36 pmReplyCancel

      • Kristi Campbell - She actually said “wise” which is different from smart, just saying 😉 But you are both.September 11, 2014 – 7:30 pmReplyCancel

  • Elizabeth - Great great post. Wow.September 11, 2014 – 1:50 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Thanks Elizabeth . I appreciate the read…it was kinda long!September 11, 2014 – 5:38 pmReplyCancel

  • clark - “It doesn’t have to make sense…”

    for a lot of us, that in and of itself, can be the biggest hurdle. Dealing with conditions and conditions are not the problem (for some of us), it getting past the ‘but, that’s just not right!’*
    I get much from the reading this today, which, I guess, is one more element of acquired knowledge. This being one of the gifts I take from this here Post here.

    * being a subset of the ‘it should make sense’September 11, 2014 – 1:52 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - well , I DO have a secondary roger… that just aint right! (another subset of “ít should make sense.” THanks my friend.September 11, 2014 – 5:40 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I got a lot from reading this today too. And still have a hard time getting past the “BUT THAT’S JUST NOT RIGHT” shit. Because, it’s fucking not just right. It’s NOT okay.September 11, 2014 – 10:29 pmReplyCancel

  • Sarah - This is one of those posts that will stick with me for a while. Well done, Weldon. I’ll be off pondering.September 11, 2014 – 1:58 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Thanks Sarah!! I appreciate it! You are a solid thinker (compliment) so that is high praise indeed…September 11, 2014 – 5:42 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I love well done, weldon. And I’ll be off pondering it for the rest of forever too. Zoe is awesome for this, and for all of the rest of her Zoeness.September 11, 2014 – 10:39 pmReplyCancel

  • Emily - This post was extremely helpful to me. As Kristi knows, my 10-year old son was diagnosed with a type of pediatric cancer last year. My despair has ranged from “why him?” to “please God help him” and so on. Cancer has taught me the same as it has taught you – that it does not discriminate and how we deal with it emotionally, spiritually, and of course medically, makes all the difference. You are an inspiration and I mean that in the most sincere way.September 11, 2014 – 1:59 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Oh man, that is just soooo unfair! For you to know of this first hand is unfair enough but for your boy to be the reason you do is just awful. Having seen so many young people over the years the one thing I do know is they are the most resilient people of us all! Often they are also the wisest in what their innocence lends to their perspective on the whole situation. One of the funniest things a kid ever said to me in an iv room was “Im not sick anymore cuz I fight dirty!” My best to you and your family… and remember to fight dirty!September 11, 2014 – 5:48 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - FUCKING CANCER. (sorry but really FUCKING CANCER). And thanks Emily. I knew you’d relate to this one… and I wish you didn’t.September 11, 2014 – 10:45 pmReplyCancel

      • zoe - FUCKING CANCER! What can I say… it bears repeating.September 12, 2014 – 6:00 amReplyCancel

  • Kristi - Asking for the strength to deal with what you already have seems to me to be a very wise thing. It’s very much a “thy will be done” moment.

    I rely heavily on my faith to help me make sense of all that is unfair in this world. When I can keep an eternal perspective, when I can focus beyond this earthly life, I can have faith that the atonement of Jesus Christ will overcome not just sin, but also pain, disappointment, and suffering of all kinds. Does that mean that I will have no trials nor struggles? NO! But it gives me the peace and strength to endure the challenges that come.

    (The quote on the lightening photo is well-stated.)September 11, 2014 – 3:47 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Thanks so much Kristi… Ive really struggled this year with my spriritual life …and whether you know it or not, you (Christine and Dyanne as well) have been so helpful and inspirational in helping me to find my way even part way back. Thank you!September 11, 2014 – 5:50 pmReplyCancel

      • Kristi - I’m happy to hear that I’ve been able to help. I have found in my own life that it is during the more challenging times that I grow the most spiritually. It sounds like you’ve developed deep insights through your years with cancer.September 11, 2014 – 6:33 pmReplyCancel

        • Kristi Campbell - I can’t say anything better than Kristi did. So I’ll just say that I’m glad that Kristi, Christine, and Dyanne are so much better at this than I am and that I thank God that you’re here, sharing your words, and your story, and well, this. All of it. If that makes sense.September 11, 2014 – 10:48 pmReplyCancel

          • zoe - YOu make so much sense … its amazing to me how much people who I have met out here have given me in terms of guidance and knowledge that they have no clue about…FOr instance you and advocacy , perseverance and raising a free and adventuresome soul despite (maybe even IN spite of ) your own fears about it… lot we can all learn from that… I read your post about the scribbly pic… thats when you think yeah, conforming is good sometimes but man this is art and no one thought Pollocks art was real art either…my kid sees things differently… there are times that seeing the sky as purple in your world may not be an advantage but do they outweigh the times when you get to say “WOW , cool sky!”September 12, 2014 – 5:58 am

  • Allie - Kristi and Zoe, I don’t know how to comment, yet I want to. Did I enjoy the piece? Hell no! Damn. Did I admire it? Hell Ya! I’m so very sorry for all that you’re going through. And the part about negotiating with the insurance company – just pisses me off! I am a veteran of those wars, sister! Although my son’s future did depend on those battles, at least his mortality did not. God bless you.September 11, 2014 – 4:24 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Thank you Allie! I understand that insurance thing all too well… it was preparation for dealing with the cell phone company later on I guess… This whole thing has been an adventure in financial survival… sadly , not a unique story.September 11, 2014 – 5:52 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Allie. Yes. what you said. I want to say so much more but what? What, really?September 11, 2014 – 10:49 pmReplyCancel

  • Roshni - You write so matter-of-factly, without any hint of self-pity; it’s just amazing and I am in awe! Thank you for putting such a wonderful personal perspective that we can all learn from!September 11, 2014 – 7:11 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - I think long term illness has given me the advantage of being nonchalant. There was a time that wasn’t so….there are still times that are less so, but after this much time I know what im dealing with and that lets me plan for the unpredictable (if that makes any sense!)September 11, 2014 – 8:28 pmReplyCancel

      • Roshni - It absolutely does make sense. I’m sure no one can expect anyone in this situation to be a saint, but given the circumstances, you have a wonderful outlook!September 12, 2014 – 1:52 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Roshni, Zoe is awesome awesome. Thanks so much for your comment!September 12, 2014 – 11:39 amReplyCancel

  • Josie Two Shoes - Wow, Zoe, this was a POWER piece of writing! So much to reflect on! Thank you for a clearer understanding on what your life entails, what being alive means. I wonder if in your situation I could also say “I want to live”, or would I chicken out and say that I don’t want to? We talk about quality of life over quantity, but I know that each of us measures that differently and relatively. From what I know of you and your blog you, you instill your life with meaning and quality experiences, even when it takes a physical toll to do that. You are not willing to give up and let the boat sink, even when faced with tough realities.

    While on the surface and on my blog I sometimes appear to be an optimist, in truth I don’t see myself as that, I prefer to call myself a realist… I try to deal with what life brings. The hardest lesson to come to with for me is that life is not fair. I wish it was, and I think it should be, but it’s clearly not. That being said, it’s still not a dark world devoid of love, light and joy! The harsh realities, the brutality of life often makes me cry, and yet I can look at the sunrise, or a laughing baby, or a playful pup, and smile in the goodness that coexists with evil here. I prefer to focus on the good, believing that I can attract more of that to my life if I do.

    For several years now I have formed my prayers not around the specifics of “I want, I need, please do this”, because I know it really doesn’t work like that, at least not for me. I pray for clarity, strength, and courage, for me and for whoever is in need of that in their life. I pray for grace and compassion, I pray for surrender where it is needed, I pray that God will use me to be a missionary of kindness and comfort. Often I just pray to surrender my will and desires to the greater will of God, knowing things will work out if I reach that place of acceptance and stop trying to steer the sinking boat!

    As you can see, post really got me thinking. Zoe, it is an honor to know you, I learn so much from you, and above all I appreciate your ability to find joy and laughter in the lifeboat!September 11, 2014 – 9:46 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I so very much agree that Zoe is one incredible writer and I admire her so much for sharing this story here – and honored that she knew it was a “safe” (if that makes sense) place to do so…
      I don’t know what I would do either, which, I think is the guts of this entire piece. I want to say YES HELLYESSSSSFOREVERYES I wantToNeedTo live… but I also understand that there’s a point to the pain and the everything else when that stuff slips away a bit, which is both terrifying and powerful and mostly terrifying…
      I really relate, too, to your “life is not fair” comment, Josie and Zoe… because it’s not. In my world, it’s NOT fair that at parent teacher night, I immediately knew my kid’s drawing because it was so much more um, scribbly than the others. BUT, it was also perfect, and I knew it was his immediately so it was his, if that makes sense.

      I agree. Zoe, it is an honor to know you. Here’s to lots of laughter in the lifeboat. For all of us. But for you especially now.September 11, 2014 – 10:56 pmReplyCancel

      • zoe - “I want to say YES HELLYESSSSSFOREVERYES I wantToNeedTo live…”
        Now that Ive had a few really close shots at death I realize I havent exactly made a choice to live as much as just done what I would naturally do… So unless there is a volition Im not aware of beyond the obvious of being suicidal( which I would never wish the agony of on anyone)…I dont think living was a choice for me… I remember being in an er PRAYING to die because I was soooo ill… but nope… kept going… energizer bunny-ish I guess….

        …and you can bet that with both of us in a lifeboat there is sure to be a lot of really sick humor floating around out there!September 12, 2014 – 5:42 amReplyCancel

    • zoe - Josie, thanks as always… what a great comment! I often pray for surrender in circumstances… acceptance probably as I havent yet learned enough humility. I hope to have time to learn to ask for strength to be a missionary of comfort… I do it but often am forgetful when angered ( which is more than I would like) … Thanks for your kind words and friendship! xo me PS…September 12, 2014 – 5:38 amReplyCancel

  • Tamara - While I’m not too sure of the details, a friend of mine has a cancer that is years or lifelong.. but livable. I didn’t know that existed until she got it.
    And my father-in-law has a similar type of thing. He was told he can live with this kind of cancer for decades with certain medications. He’s almost 73 so.. it’s an interesting thing for him. Would he live for decades anyway, cancer free?
    All I hope for is his longevity, and importantly – his happiness and comfort during that. So far, so good.September 12, 2014 – 12:23 amReplyCancel

    • zoe - weird right!? THe odds of living longer have changed so much even in my short time with CA. WHen I was diagnosed I was given until 32 ish… Im now 51 (not so ish) and granted end stage but even that can last years… I suspect your dad and I may have the same illness… I was told it was rare for a young woman to get this… at that time I was one of 19 or 20 woman below 60 with it.Typically older men get it… hmmmm… go figure…September 12, 2014 – 5:46 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I didn’t know this type of cancer existed until Zoe shared her story with me either, Tamara.September 13, 2014 – 1:13 pmReplyCancel

  • Lisa @ The Meaning of Me - Well. I don’t know that I have anything to add here that has not already been said. I’ve come back here three times to read this and I still have so much to take in and mull over. I’ve been really griping about my body and my RA these last few days…but at the moment I kind of feel like “who the hell are you to do that?” But then I remember that everyone’s struggles are their own and they are all different…then the other voice takes over again. Like I said…lots to think about still.
    Here’s what I do know – you are brave and you are awesome. I don’t know you as long or as well as some of these awesome ladies, but I can tell even from that short time that you are wise. You get it, so to speak.
    My Grandfather always used to tell us “yup, life’s unfair. That’s just the way it is.” He used to say spend less time complaining about that and wondering why and more time figuring out what to do with the hand you were dealt. That’s all. Makes sense.
    Anyway, thanks for sharing this, Zoe – there is so much wisdom to take away here. You nailed it!September 12, 2014 – 12:35 amReplyCancel

    • zoe - SoLisa, if you got to the beginning where it says Im not really all that different than people with other chronic illnesses… I am not lying or kidding when I say I was thinking of you… Life is unfair but man is it relative… dont let that other voice bring you down … you have enough to struggle against without listening to untruths…Thank you so much my friend… listen to your grandad… wise man there!September 12, 2014 – 5:48 amReplyCancel

      • Lisa @ The Meaning of Me - You’re very right, Zoe. It is all relative – one person’s good day is another’s bad. What people need to do, I think, in general, is respect one another and support one another wherever they are. It’s about empathy (which is what we’re doing here at the Our Land thing) and really just being able to say “I’m sorry this sucks for you right now and I’m here to do whatever will help.” Honestly, when I have a bad day or even a full-out flare, all I really want is those around me to recognize, understand, help me if I need it and let me be if I don’t.
        My Grandfather was so wise…so wonderful.September 12, 2014 – 4:20 pmReplyCancel

        • Kristi Campbell - I agree with Zoe, Lisa. Each of our struggles are our struggles and we can’t dismiss our own because somebody has worse ones… BUT I do think it’s good to put some of our complaints in perspective if that makes sense by knowing and helping other people through theirs. Here’s to remembering to be here for everybody who needs to hear “I’m sorry this sucks right now,” no matter what the suck is.September 13, 2014 – 1:16 pmReplyCancel

          • Lisa @ The Meaning of Me - I like that – no matter what the suck is. 😀September 13, 2014 – 2:17 pm

  • Lana - Wow – this is one of the wisest pieces of writing I have ever read. So well done. Thank you for sharing this perspective with us. I think any other comment I make would be inadequate – so thank you, brave Zoe, and I’m sending every positive thought your way.September 12, 2014 – 1:04 amReplyCancel

  • No Hands SEO - I’m going to quickly understanding your current rss feed after i cannot find your e mail request hyperlink or ezine service No Hands SEO. Accomplish you may have any kind of? You should let me understand in order that I possibly could register. Cheers.September 12, 2014 – 2:57 amReplyCancel

    • zoe - Ah yes, the jellied canned meat of the blogosphere! How you sustain me!!!September 12, 2014 – 5:51 amReplyCancel

      • Kristi Campbell - Zoe, I was going to delete this but I love your reply so much that I’m keeping it. “Jellied canned meat of the blogosphere” = HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHA 🙂September 13, 2014 – 1:25 pmReplyCancel

  • Sandy Ramsey - First of all, I love that you replied to the spam comment! Classic, Zoe!

    This is not the first time I have read an incredible piece of your writing regarding your cancer. I have read through the thread and know that there is nothing I could add. There really isn’t anything I can say that will do this justice anyway. It’s beautifully and bravely written. Well done, my friend.September 12, 2014 – 7:56 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I loved that too, Sandy! “Jellied canned meat” made me laugh out loud. And yes. It is beautifully and bravely written.September 13, 2014 – 1:33 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Sandy, thanks so much… Like Kristi, it your site wasnt there I dont think I would ever write this stuff down! …and spam… yeah, spam…September 14, 2014 – 5:26 pmReplyCancel

  • Marcia @ Menopausal Mother - This is so beautifully written and you are incredibly brave. I’ve had many loved ones go through chemo–some survived and some did not. It was a brutal experience for every one of them, but it was interesting to see how they each handled it differently. You are one of the strong ones and your attitude is amazing. XOSeptember 12, 2014 – 10:41 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Marcia, I agree. Oh chemo, and all that it means. It sucks but today, seems like the best shot for life, which is terrible.September 13, 2014 – 11:33 pmReplyCancel

    • zoe - Like anything, the experience of chemo is relative I suppose… its the longterm aftereffects that are especially disconcerting to me while others would be sitting in the room getting sick immediately and couldnt wait for the next day… go figure… Ive had time to adjust my attitude which is most days as you see here but often enough NOT!September 14, 2014 – 5:28 pmReplyCancel

  • Lizzy - Muddle-Headed Mamma - There is so much wisdom in this post, I don’t even know where or how to begin to honour it. I agree wholeheartedly that confidence in a higher power lends confidence to the self. The more I live, the more I realise that life is full of paradox. People are always reminding us that bad experiences make us stronger but sometimes that just makes me want to shout ‘I’d rather be weak and happy!’ Sometimes I think that God gives us these enormous challenges in life to beak us down so we will come back to him through prayer because we’ve tried everything else and all we have left to do is prayer. Thank you for writing this Zoe and thank you for sharing it here Kristi.September 15, 2014 – 2:18 amReplyCancel

  • My Info - “I’d rather be weak and happy”….haha love that!! Finding happy in the ick seems to be the goal…..dunno….thanks for the great comment liza!September 15, 2014 – 6:21 amReplyCancel

    • zoe - MY PHONE IS SUCH A FREAKING LOSER! So… Lizzy… LIZA???? WHO IS THAT????? forgive me, but I do thank you for commenting and I love the rather-be-happy-and-weak comment! zoeSeptember 15, 2014 – 7:18 pmReplyCancel

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