The Cancer Starter Pack

 The Cancer Starter Pack

By Joel Shults

F*#% Cancer T shirt. Check

GoFundMe site. Check

Light Blue prostate cancer support ribbon frame for Facebook profile. Check

Start My Cancer Journey blog. Check

Actually, I'm doing none of those (with the slight deviation on the blog thing, since this is one). But I don't intend to do a play by play as some do. And I'm not criticizing those who do that because I often read them and they have a lot of value. Mostly, I'm writing this for me to look back on in a year or two and to help myself navigate an uncomfortable new territory. The discomfort is not that I have cancer, but what kind of person I should be now that the Big C is trying to define who I am.  I resent the invasion. I have submitted myself to other forces before as a  soldier, police officer, and follower of Jesus but to be forced to submit to a cancer-fighting lifestyle is insulting to my existential integrity.

The first issue, in my mind, is disclosure. Really, how many people should I expect to care about my current, transient crisis? It is a universal phenomenon to have seasons of distress. Doubly and triply so in our current culture where even the most mundane activities of life can lay claim to victimization and moans of hardship. This is where I cue "Sounds Like Life to Me". 

I'm analyzing me here for my sake, so I'm not trying to create some persona for the reader, but I am mostly a lone ranger. An I'd rather do it myself and owe no favors guy. I don't ask anybody to be strong for me. A guy who knows that people have enough crap to think about without me tossing some burdensome thought into the mix. Oh, I talk it up when it comes to giving other people counsel. "Don't be a loner. People are glad to help. We need each other. I get by with a little help from my friends".  So, I really, at this point, am not asking anyone for anything other than the prayers of my believing friends. Not asking for "vibes" - no offense. But I'm sharing the news because I might just decide not to walk this entirely alone, other than immediate family, of course. And I don't want to insult anyone by not telling them since there are people that would want to know and, of course, the folks who want to be in the know and will gawk at every trainwreck to help them be thankful that it's not happening to them. Again, not being judgy - one of my favorite pseudo-sympathetic statements when someone has a problem is to say "Hey it could be worse - it could be me!" I may retire that little witticism. We'll see.

The second issue is fear. In fact, the whole arena of human emotion is something I have navigated in general by 1) realizing that we have the ability to shift our thoughts to the front of the brain where rational calculations take place as opposed to the lizard brain that pumps out emergency alerts at every threat to our body or ego and, in a related fashion 2) recognizing the biology of feelings. I've written dozens of articles on mental health for first responders and have done a ton of research on PTSD. I've got some counseling competencies and have an intellectual grasp on the whole emotions thing. But my practice, since childhood, is to avoid much expression of emotion and to obtain mastery over that part of myself. I facetiously tell folks that I'm cold-hearted, but I'm not really. I just know that conquering fear and anger is important in my former police duties. 

I would also like to think that I have demonstrated courage and resilience in my life and we all know that there is no courage without fear to be managed and no resilience developed without testing. The cancer thing is very different. It was not breathtaking to get the news from the doc, mostly because I fully expected that diagnosis. And I knew that the news was going to be taken harder by Cheryl and the kids, so my thoughts were naturally about them first. That's not a noble thing, that's a dad/husband thing.

So does cancer scare me? Maybe not as much I would have expected. In terms of risk management, the odds are good that in a year I'll be done with the whole thing and moving on, with, of course, the specter of recurrence. But it might kill me. That part, to the extent that one can really grasp one's mortality, doesn't shake me. I'm heaven bound regardless. I do feel my body tense at the thought of some of these tests that are upcoming. I'm more than a little claustrophobic. My pain tolerance has never been fully tested, as far as I know. I like to boast that I've been back on duty after being knocked out and hit by cars, but that's just God's grace and protection I also know many people that live with chronic pain and some brothers and sisters in blue that have been shot, stabbed, crunched, punched, and crashed. There are those with limps, gimps, winces, scars, and walkers and scooters. I'm not there yet. I've preached that everyone's trauma is their own and it's not a competition, but really, how much of a fuss am I licensed to make when I've lived this long, this healthy, and this richly? 

I'm willing to allow myself to experience fear, sadness, anger, disappointment, and anxiety but as long as I have control over my brain those thoughts will be transient, informative, and passengers not drivers. 

Finally, will I pray for a miracle? Of course! But every prayer must include the same asterisk that Jesus' prayers had: nevertheless, not my will but Thine. Miracles teach short lessons quickly forgotten. Struggles mold character, reveal character, and teach others who are watching. My main prayer is that whatever challenges arise that my Creator will make good use of them. I've always prayed that I will be a quick learner of lessons - that's part of the "lead me not into temptation (overwhelming testing). So there's that.