Biopsy and Cancer Burnout

I’ve been struggling to write this blog post for a week now. Everything is fine- the biopsy was fine. Things were scary the day after, and I rushed to Tulsa. We have amazing friends and family who did all the things we needed. We really felt prayers, and suddenly he had a completely normal CT scan with no fluids, no damaged nerves, etc. Recovery is slow and things might just be different now- a right-side facial droop, loss of right side hearing, and balance just good enough to walk with both hands out.

The thing is… I think I’m just tired of having cancer rule my life, my conversation, my writing. Earlier on, I had the energy to maintain some other spheres of life: a little volleyball, some church service, early morning walks. Now, I’m just so tired, and there’s not much for me to say/do/think BESIDES the ways DIPG has upturned our life. I could skip 7/10 of my conversations if my forehead just read the following: Yes, we’re still waiting to hear from Stanford. Yes, we did decide to rent instead of sell our house. Yes, he is home from the biopsy and doing fine.

I know next week will feel different. Every week does. But this week… I’m so tired of carrying this. These months of stretching and slaving and hurting… reaching milestones and passing deadlines… and for what? Just to do it some more?

We are not the only ones carrying a long-term burden. I can only imagine how many of you are carrying your own private pain, chronic illness, disability, trauma, or mental illness. I guess… we just learn to be sad AND make plans. To be tired AND live a life. To seek rest AND just to push. To have hope AND mourn for loss.

The scary reality is that if there’s no weekend from my problems, no holiday or day off, I HAVE to live sustainably. I’ve got to cry. Today. To ask for help. Today. To exercise, in some small way, and be outside sometime. To find my God. Today. Relief cannot lie in tomorrow. It must have space today- perhaps not in the literal 24-hour sense, but in the way I always live. Pretending I am whole postpones my healing until tomorrow, and I cannot afford to wait.