Gift

I can't tell you how many times I have read about "cancer as a gift." Worst. Gift. Ever. I want my gift receipt (receipts, actually) and I am returning for a full refund.

I "get" the idea that having terminal cancer suddenly makes you see the world filled with rainbows and people who sing their way through each day (kind of like the Buffy musical!), but really ~ I think that is a load of crap.

Cancer sucks. I can't find anything good about spending lots of time at the cancer center (actually, I can, the people...all of them...are great). I don't think this port in my chest had any wrapping paper or a bow on it. I am positive that the bags the chemo drugs come in are not gift bags. And if they are, we really need to talk about marketing. The handful of pills I get to swallow each day are an exciting combination, but again, not a present.

I have read the same phrase used to describe the way people see life after losing a loved one. By losing someone close, suddenly people embrace each day and the people in it. But I wasn't throwing any time by the wayside before we lost Cora ~ I knew that our kids would only be little for a short time and I was savoring that time. Savoring the moments when they want to sit near you, and give you kisses and hugs in public, and would rather play with you than their buddies. I loved it. I still love it.

I think the term "gift" in this sense is bullshit. I think it is used by people who knew all along that they worked too much, or were in crappy relationships, or never attempted to find the good in things. I didn't need this "gift." I didn't suddenly start finding the good in life when I found out I had cancer or when Cora died. I already had it, I still have it.