I’m a Weeble

I don’t remember the last time I got really good news from my oncologist. Just when I think things are going well, BOOM, something gets in the way. So far, the only progress that has been made regarding my health has been made by the tumors, which continue to get bigger and have gotten more aggressive recently. Almost every time I have gone to the doctor in the last few months, a bomb has dropped and my spirits drop with it. There have been times when I thought I would never regain my positive outlook on life, or even stop crying for that matter.

In August, I was taken off chemo after just barely starting because it was doing too much damage to my liver and bone marrow. The news was devastating to me – how was I supposed to fight cancer without any treatment? I felt like a soldier without a gun. I usually try to be stoic in the doctor’s office; however, this time, the news was a little more than I could handle. I crumbled – and, once again, I thought there was no way I would be able to crawl out of the depths of my disappointment. But I did. I’ve discovered I’m a Weeble.

People of a certain age remember these egg-shaped character toys that featured the tagline, “Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.” There have surely been times during the last two years that I have been parallel to the floor, but somehow I keep returning to an upright position. I’m not sure why this is. It most likely was the way I was raised. My father had a wonderful, positive outlook on life; he expressed his faith through his actions every day.

In a post last year, I talked about denial, optimism, and faith – a combination that I believe are characteristics of Weebles, at least they are for this Weeble. Denial comes in handy when I look in the mirror and don’t see a sick person, and I’m as active as I ever was. A stranger would never know what’s going on inside my body. In fact, I refuse to identify myself as being sick and have banned the word from my friends’ vocabulary, as well. Don’t get me wrong – I am not pretending that I don’t have terminal cancer; however, it doesn’t need to be my main focus in life.

I think that denial helps me be optimistic. I have found that once I absorb the bad news from the doctor’s office, I can pick out a nugget of news that is positive, making the bad news fade into the distance of denial. Yes, I had to have a lung resection, but two of the tumors taken out were the biggest ones at the time. Yes, I have a lot of tumors, but there aren’t any new ones. Yes, the tumors have gotten bigger, but now I’m eligible for a clinical trial. I can hang my hat on those nuggets and be optimistic again, hoping for the best.

Then, of course, there is faith. Once shattered when I found out the cancer has returned, my faith is stronger than ever. For the first time, I intimately understand something my father always said: “I don’t worry because I’ve turned all my troubles over to the Lord. If I’m still worrying, I haven’t truly turned them over.” I don’t know if I’ve quite done that; however, I do know that I have a calmness that I haven’t experienced for a long time.

I hope the Weeble in me continues to do its job – just wobbling, but not falling down.

Share the strength.

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