On Being Angry

Relay for Life has always been a big event for me and for my family and friends. For the past 11 years we have walked all night in solidarity. Mourning those we have lost, remembering them. And also celebrating the victorious. Celebrating me, really. My heart has been so much a part of this event. I get sad when friends or family can't make it or simply don't make the effort to be there, because it has always meant SO much to me. As the time draws near and people across our town are starting fundraisers and gathering teammates, I am struggling. I am angry. My Facebook feed is inundated with Relay reminders and updates and with each one I find myself growing more and more upset.

I am angry, friends. I'm angry at cancer. So much so that I have been contemplating NOT participating this year. 

Here's why.

I used to feel so empowered by being a "survivor". And walking at Relay made me feel like I was doing something good. I was taking a stand and showing cancer that I won. And that I will continue to fight for others like me. Then this last year happened. And my cancer came and kicked me right in the teeth. Again. Not in the form of cancer, but disguised as "infertility".

If I dive a little deeper into the heart of the matter, I get even more heated. I really struggle with the divvying out of cancer research monies. When less than 5% of the governments funding for cancer research goes to Childhood Cancer...I just can't. Cancer is THE #1 cause of death in children, yet it is the LOWEST funded cancer research in the nation. Why? My cancer, Ewing's Sarcoma, is a rare form of pediatric cancer. So rare, they didn't know how to treat it back in 2005. So rare, that in 2005, they didn't know that the treatment they were using would cause the patients who were lucky enough to survive, CHILDREN, to be infertile in their later years. I apologize for the unnecessary use of the Caps key but like I said, I am angry. 

I don't really know where I am going with this friends. Which is why I decided to write about it. I am at a stalemate. A part of me wants to wear that purple shirt, walk that Survivor lap, and remember all the special people I love and have lost. Another part of me wants to burn all of my purple shirts from years past because they serve as a visually painful reminder that cancer is still so much a part of me, sucker punching me...11 years later. 

I "beat" cancer. I am alive. But my life...my life will NEVER be the same. My husband, who didn't even know me when I was going through treatment, HIS life will never be the same because of MY cancer. Chances are fairly high that we won't ever have children due to the toll that my cancer treatment took on my body when I was 16 years old. I don't want to celebrate that. I don't think I can. 

And I know, I know so many of you beautiful and amazing people that are reading this are thinking, "No, Moquie! No. You won. You are alive, and that means more than anything else in this world!". I get that. I get it. It's true. And I love you for it. I am happy to be here. I'm thankful for all I have. 

But ya'll, I'm just...so angry. 

With love and a confused heart,
Mo

 Kaibab Plateau, 2016. I'm using it here because it's peaceful, and...I'm angry.