Cancer family effect...

I think a dreadly disease gives perspective to everyone involved, but most especially with your family. I find it interesting how it affects each child of mine in various ways and also amazed to see how dissimilar they are to one another. My oldest son pretends that it never happened. He has never mentioned it, never showed up at chemo, and asks me to babysit any time of day or night. After bumping into one of his friends I found out that that is the way he deals with it... we are extremely close and yet his friends also tell me that he never brings it up and changes the subject when they do. It is his way to cope.

My middle two sons are the men with the feminine side. They wouldn't like this analysis, but there is nothing dearer to me than a man who can cry, talk about their sad times, share their insecurities or do those little things that make your heart break. My son, Josh, writes too and makes a book for his wife every Christmas. When he was here last weekend, he read 2011 to me... and in the middle of it realized that he mentioned my illness, and (in doing so) broke down in tears. It's hard to have a clue as to how this hurts those in my life - not knowing if I will even get through this year is so hard for them. This is what breaks my heart about cancer - to hurt the ones you love so deeply is beyond heartbreaking. Yesterday, he sent me his children's book... I helped him edit it, and am going to illustrate it for him with all my spare time. What a great thing to be able share this between us during this time.

My third son has not surprised me in his reaction to all this. Jake is a person you tell your secrets to, and does things for me that many men his age would never consider. During chemo, he would come next to my bed and just rub my feet while I was asleep. There isn't a day when he doesn't call and mention my illness. These are moments in your life that you don't forget - even when you pretend to be asleep. He shows his worry the most, and he is my sensitive boy. Even this flu of mine this week made him fret for a bit until I started feeling better. A woman will be lucky to have him as their partner one day.

Then there is Rachel, my strong-willed, sensitive, creative and guarded daughter. We are nothing alike. I look at her and see my husband who is also guarded and (acts) unemotional with people. (the opposite is true). The funny thing is, she is the most social out of all of us, but I run a close second. Rachel has been a little like her oldest brother (by ignoring things) but sends me "high-five-you'll-do-fine-don't-worry-so-much" texts. Her texts are frequent but very "buck-it-up-cheerleader-esque."

Ironically, you need all different types of support. Bruce's reaction has been more culinary-like in his sympathy. You know, "would you like some capers on that lymph node?" or "how bout some Vodka sauce on that chemo body-ache"? You need a myriad of reactions because sometimes you crave the awwww, the tears with your friends, or just sympathy ----so you might have a clue that someone actually cares. But most of the time you couldn't possibly live with that overkill, and the "get-on-with-it-bacon-and-eggs-bone-marrow-test reaction is much more soothing. I'm glad I live with Bruce because the hard-ass approach is probably best for the daily cancer-diet. The non-reaction is more important than they realize because it makes me feel like a normal healthy mom. God, I wish I were.

I am lucky enough that I have so much family that I get to pick the reaction of the day. All of them count, even when there is no reaction at all.