Cancer. Round Four.

The time between my posts is getting longer and longer, which at times I think is a good thing but then again, maybe not. Good because this blog has been my form of therapy for the past two years and it's good to need it less and less, but bad because I don't often let things escape like I used to. If my therapist Cynthia were reading this, she would be rolling her eyes and saying, "Yes! You never let it out!" This is her biggest gripe with me, unfortunately, and after two long years of therapy and a $25 co-pay with every visit, not much progress has been made in that department.

However, it comes out every once in a while. When it does, it is usually cynical and dripping with sarcasm. Yikes!

I suppose I've been bottling some things up out of respect for and the wishes of my aunt Janny. Not many people know, and I have not been able to freely talk about the fact that she has cancer.

Just a little sidenote: My mom had 4 sisters, 3 from the same dad and 1 is a half-sister with a different dad but they loved each other as though that was never an issue. The 4 sisters with the same dad, the Lightbody side of the family, have now all been diagnosed with cancer.

My aunt Janny has bladder cancer. She had to be unusual and couldn't just have breast cancer like everyone else. For those of you who have read my previous posts, you know that my aunt Janny is the one who "took over" for my mom after she died. I had a hard time getting close to people after that and resisted it because I was afraid I would lose whoever I would get close to. For some reason, it was always in the back of my head that this may someday happen to my aunt Janny.

And now she has cancer too. I'm not saying I'm going to lose her to this or that everyone I love gets cancer and that it's my fault. But a little part of me wonders if it's my fault, if you want the honest truth.

She had surgery yesterday to remove her bladder. When faced with the decision to keep her bladder and have chemo or remove her bladder altogether while still facing a possible chemo treatment later, she almost didn't hesitate in deciding to go through with the major surgery. At the doctors office that afternoon she said, "Your mom and aunt Polly couldn't remove their cancer, but I can." And that she did.

She is now in the ICU after having experienced a nearly five-hour surgery with tubes and machines all hooked up to her. She is awake and talking but uncomfortable, of course.

I am currently battling a terrible virus that has prevented me from going to work all week, so I have stayed away from my aunt Janny and it is killing me. My family has been giving me updates so I feel better about the whole thing. It's very hard to be away from her.

So, to my surprise, my phone rang tonight and it was the hospital's number. My stomach sank into my feet--I know that number too well. My mom was in the hospital so often that I had it saved in my phone under "mom." I instantly recognized it and quickly had to remind myself not to panic. The raspy, tired voice of my aunt Janny was on the other end of the phone call, and it was so reminiscent of my mom's sick, fighting voice that it was actually frightening. I barely talked and I let her do most of the talking, mostly because I knew I would cry if I opened my mouth. I hung up the phone with her and was taken back to that place. That place I do not like to go.

At home, by myself, my parents at the hospital. My mom getting chemo while I'm at school or work, not knowing how it's going and waiting for a phone call. Finally, the phone would ring, and it would be her. That same voice. My same worry. Today took me back to that place.

It really shook me.

I remember my last phone call from my mom. I was sick, and I wasn't allowed to visit her because she was only two weeks out of her transplant and I could jeopardize everything if I passed on my germs. But I didn't have to because the hospital and their own, home-grown germs did that for me and took her away.

I am not ok with watching another one of my family members suffer like that and have to endure things that most other people can't even imagine. I'm not sure what this is that is happening to our family but I want it to stop. When this all started, back when my mom was diagnosed and my aunt Polly was still living, I tried to put on a brave face and fake a positive smile through my day. I actually got compliments on how upbeat I was..."Your family must really appreciate your positive outlook." Right.

I find it hard to fake that sort of thing anymore. After my mom died, I continued to put on a smile for everyone and all that got me was a nervous breakdown and therapy. So I stopped and tried to let myself be upset and sad if I needed to be. I feel myself reverting back to that person, that quiet, angry person that keeps things in. I don't want to fake a smile if I don't have to and I don't want to be cheerful all the time because that's not how I feel.

Truth be told, I am angry. I am very angry. I can't believe another one of my family members has to deal with this, another one of my mom's sisters. Cancer. Again. When will it all just stop? The only good thing coming out of this is that I am not distracted by school anymore, and I can help my aunt Janny the best way I know how. I may not have a cute little smile on my face but at least I can snuggle and watch movies and cook and clean. Just like I did for my mom.

My aunt Janny has seen the best and the utter worst of me--she knows when I'm faking and she doesn't like it. I'm happy I will get to be myself with her. Maybe we will all come out better on the other side.