Americano-Jimmy is not, of course, the only person to worry about getting cancer. Some people are more vocal about their worries, but there's always a barrage of warnings and rules and advice and things. Many people say, in a sort of resigned tone, "In the end, everyone's going to die of cancer," but I suspect most people think and hope they're going to be the lucky ones who escape unscathed . . . to die of something else.
Last night I got home from work kind of late and hadn't eaten yet. The Sixes had kindly made me a plate of food so all I had to do was microwave it and eat it. (One of these days I'm going to tell you just how great it has been having the Sixes here at this time.) I took a plate out of the recently-run dishwasher and placed it upside-down on top of the plate of food, because, as I said, "If I microwave with plastic over this, I might get cancer."
Heather-of-Six and I both laughed really hard when I said that. We've been making other "I/you might get cancer" jokes since then, although we both agree there's something a little morbid about it.
But here's what I'm discovering. Actually having cancer starts to alter how you think about it. I mean, my parents bought me a juicer so I can increase my intake of vitamins and minerals through fruits and vegetables. This juicer is Awesome. Heather-of-Six and I made some apple/carrot/celery juice this morning, and the juicer completely annihilated the vegetables in seconds, and the juice was delicious. I plan on using it a lot, both for health reasons and because it is So Cool.
On the other hand . . . I have cancer. There's no more of this pending, waiting, worrying, what-if-I-get-it, hoping-I-don't stuff. Too late! I already did! So--well--it feels like a lot of the pressure's off. I can drink the juice because I like it, and I can take supplements if I want because it would be nice not to go through this again and that might help. But there are no guarantees (I wasn't living that unhealthily before, and I rarely microwaved with plastic).
I kind of feel like I can relax now.
6 comments:
Jenn,
Your ability to make me chuckle through these posts as well as tear up shows me three things:
1) You are a phenomenal writer
2) You have a wonderful depth of insight into this whole thing
3) I know it has been a life-long desire of yours to be used by God, and well, He's using you for a great and powerful work.
Reminds me of that great Mother Teresa quote, which I´m sure I´ll butcher here: "God promises not to test us beyond what we can handle...I just which he didn't trust me so much."
We love you Jenn, and are praying for you.
So I've been praying for you.
I read about the cancer last week and I didn't know what to say. So in typical American male fashion I didn't say anything.
It occurs to me: our whole silence-in-the-face of cancer thing, it's really about arrogance and playing God. We can't do anything about it so we don't talk about because we don't want to be reminded of our powerlessness. So I'll apologize not only for myself but also the other knuckeleheads in the world who are selfish enough to run away from this stuff.
I agree with Dave about your writing--and I think there's a book in this!
Dave--that quote is GREAT. I love you, too. Thanks for praying--and staying connected.
Jeff--Thanks for saying that. I had been trying to process those kinds of "responses." I always appreciate your honesty. Thanks for praying, too.
Mom--Oh don't worry. I'm already being barraged with requests for a book. (Well, okay. If two suggestions equal a "barrage of requests.")
Jenn--
Have any of the two requests been from publishers?
Also, you probably shouldn't spend so much time in front of your computer, you might get cancer.
Dave-my-brother--Sadly, no. And yes, I have thought of that . . .
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