Emotional Triggers

If you don't know a lot about cancer, when the doctors are saying "You have cancer" to you or your spouse, what you hear is "You aren't going to live". From that point on, it's a frantic race to find a cure, but it's also a mental race to prepare for what you believe is the inevitable.

Truth be told, there are so many people that survive cancer. Even advanced stage cancer. And you know what? When you look at them, you can't tell that they ever had cancer. They just look like everyone else. There's no scarlet "C" emblazoned on them, although I imagine lots of newly diagnosed people would be relieved to see how many people have beat it.

In our household (as I'm sure with many others) we take on tasks that "belong" to us. I do the laundry. Jim mows the lawn. I do the cooking. Jim takes out the trash. I pump my own gas for the car and get my oil changed, but if there's something wrong with the car, Jim takes it in. It's the unwritten rule book. I've taken over most of the tasks while Jim heals, but even still, if I can't open a jar of jelly, I hand it to Jim after a couple of twists.

During the mental race to prepare for whatever the future may bring, there are different emotional triggers for us. When I learned to mow the lawn, Jim believed that I did it because I thought he wasn't going to make it. In reality I learned to use the mower because the grass was getting long and our next-door-neighbor that was cutting our grass had a quintuple bypass. Mowing the grass makes me feel like a contributor at home. I don't think I'm the world's best caretaker, but everyone wants to believe that they are helping Jim in some way.

My emotional triggers are different things...like the car seats. Children's car seats are a pain to install. The statistics for people driving around with their kids incorrectly latched are astonishing. We got to turn Jake's car seat around a few weeks ago. Jim wasn't strong enough to do it, so I tried to do it myself. It took me around 45 minutes, I was a sweaty mess, and I scratched up my knees installing the strap that goes into the cargo area. I asked Jim to come down and check my work. While on the way outside, Jim said "Did you move the straps?"

No.

Right then and there I knew I'd wasted my time. I was so angry that I had a full-out 2-year-old temper tantrum out in the driveway, complete with tears, stomping, and plenty of fist swinging. Car seats are one of those things: I don't know how to use them, and if for some reason Jim doesn't make it, I will be lost. I was so upset that I couldn't even have Jim explain to me how to fix the car seats - I just gave up and went inside.

Jim's emotional trigger is the basement. He wants the basement done in case something happens. He wants our kids to have a nice playroom, because he knows that if it doesn't get done, I can't do it myself. Jim's Dad is working on the basement this week, which is a blessing because it takes a big load off Jim's mind.

It's hard to talk about the hard things. We are having to face the reality that two traditional treatments haven't worked. But we are still hopeful that one will work in the future. We'd be fools to give up. We'd be fools to give in. Cancer will never prevail over us mentally. We are a formidable mental opponent for cancer, no matter how low we get. We have faith and we have people who lift us up when our faith gets low.

When they gave Jim his diagnosis in the hospital, the doctor (not Dr. Haid), gave a time frame on how long he thought Jim would live. My number one goal in life is to prove him wrong. He doesn't know how long Jim will live. None of us know. Mercifully, Jim doesn't remember what the doctor said, and I won't ever tell him. Who can pin a time frame on someone's life? People have come back from worse, and I hold hope that Jim can, too.

Sometimes we get depressed or an emotional trigger makes us upset. But it doesn't mean we think he won't make it. It means that I don't ever want to live a day without him here to install car seats. It means he wants to see his kids play in the new basement. It means we will push on together, striving for many more happy days when we won't be taunted by emotional triggers.