Making Friends with the Darkness
Surviving cancer has been a long, hard process of identifying the demons that haunt the dark places in my life and befriending them.
First, I tried the disease itself. But that's too big. I still haven't gotten to the point of forgiveness to my own body for the betrayal it's put on me. But I have accepted it, and recognize it as an amoral force of nature.
My real first victory was over denial. Accepting the diagnosis was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I don't remember if it was the first or second chemo session that convinced me completely, but it was early. And for this I'm thankful, it let me jump right into the photo project which has enriched my life and delivered a tremendous amount of meaning to me. And maybe it'll help someone, too.
There have been dozens of little and big anxieties. I used to hate needles, now I have four perminant IVs in my limbs. Eighteen chemo cycles over two years is enough exposure for most. My treatment was repetitive, it's easy to make boring or anxiety like that.
A secret I only just started telling is that three days before the HIPEC surgery, when I had the consent forms filled out but hadn't sent them in, I very nearly didn't. I had won a minor duel with denial on routine stuff, but not when a dozen organs were on the line. But the fortitude I'd developed in eight months of treatment carried me through, and for my trouble I was gifted certainty. But not granted our desired outcome.
Befriending death is the difficult one. I've been working on it since accepting my diagnosis in September 2022 and since accepting my surgical fate in June 2023. I've come a long way. I know the form death will take (it's private, don't ask), and I know my last act will be to embrace it as a close friend. And I know that this will happen on their time, and I'm not ready yet.
There's more, so much more, buried in my Facebook wall (I've read it all for a project), but today I want to celebrate a small, but important for me, victory. The Antler's Hospice is a beautiful little album, perhaps nothing worth writing about these years later, but I like it's tragic beauty. I banned it from my playlist in 2022 because the central metaphor of a hospice was too much for me while coping with terminal illness.
Friends, I listened to that album straight through. In the cold dark of the hospice I've called home for over a month. My partner is in the next room, but she's asleep. And the nurses largely leave us alone after dark. It's just me, my headphones, the inky darkness of a Northern Ontario night, and the hum of my medical machines.
How I imagine it supposed to be listened to it.
I've become fast friends with Hospice again. I only hope this small victory can apply elsewhere. But if not, I have Kettering back. And thats beauty I want from the world.
From the comments
James Petrosky: The song I have forgiven for hitting too close to home. It's a beautiful and powerful song.
Brennan Moline: James Petrosky thank you as always for sharing powerful art that speaks to you
Gena Radcliffe: “I still haven’t forgiven my body for the betrayal it’s put on me. But I have accepted it, and recognize it as an amoral force of nature.” This is beautiful, powerful, and deeply relatable.
James Petrosky: Gena Radcliffe it took me so long to get here, and it requires constant work as the cancer creates new nightmares, but it's given me so much peace and mental stillness.
Cathy Petrosky: You have taught this old lady so much. For this I am so grateful. 🥰
Dennis Dorion: Your mom is so right. This past, short 2 years will have changed so many lives. I hope in some way we can pay it forward. Each day is so precious. It is so easy to look at the big things and miss all the beautiful smalls. You have been able to capture all these smalls. I am beginning to see these smalls because of you. Thank you so much for being you. ❤️💜
Consider donating to St Joseph's Hospital in Elliot Lake, they do excellent work for a small community. They're working on improving their oncology area, which is very close to my heart. These improvements will allow more patients to recieve their treatment in the community they live in, rather than traveling two hours each way to the nearest cancer centre.
If you want to keep your money closer to home, then please consider donating to a hospice. The one here has given me and my family so much joy and comfort in a very difficult time in our lives time. I don't think I'd still feel as alive and vibrant, and I would not still be creating, without the care this hospice provides. Hospice is a gift we all deseve at our appointed hour.