Sunday, May 6, 2012

same spot

I have started six posts since I last published anything.  I have tried to finish them, but I can't seem to come to any conclusions.

The perfect example of my problems as of late. 

It feels very much like I am having an identity crisis.  I am not quite sure how to answer the simple greeting question "How are you?"  This is always asked with the kindest heart.  But under the circumstances, it is matched occasionally by my angry heart.

Much like a teenager, I am awkward to talk to right now.  I find myself doing super lame things like...avoiding eye contact sometimes.  What?  This only adds to the isolating feelings that are inevitable with this kind of diagnosis.  I have been told by some of my closest friends that I am hard to read, or that I seemed shy or snobby when they first met me.  I can only imagine how I'm coming across now.  I am so sorry!  It's just that I don't know how I am.  Truly.  Or even exactly who I am.  Where I'm going.  What's my purpose on the earth.  I know the Sunday School answers.  I even believe them, I think it's just making that make sense into my short-term world right now.  I don't even know if I will be around next year.  What does that mean?  Where does that put me?  Should I be happy?  Should I be in despair?  Should I be smiling, or crying?  I do both all the time, within the same minute.  I guess I'm just a mixed up mess most of the time.

I know what to do at the hospital.  I have direction.  I am big-time focused on a big goal.  I can feel progress.  I know how to be a patient.  Those weeks that are so hard physically are not too bad mentally.  I want to live.  I want a cure.  That is enough direction in the hospital. 

We had the opportunity to tag along to Palm Springs this week with Josh while he attended a conference.  I was with my boys all day, all night.  We swam at the pool (actually it was the first time I didn't get in), played tennis, croquet,  mini golf, rode bikes, told jokes, visited a few fun places with grandma and grandpa.

But we had to come home and face reality:  Mom is going back to the hospital to start another cycle of IL-2.

Tonight my six year old was sobbing on my shoulder, "But why did you even get cancer?  Why do you even have to go to the hospital?"  A scripture came to my mind that I had read last week in the Temple:

If thou art called to pass through tribulation... and if with a drawn sword thine enemies tear thee from the bosom of thy wife, and of thine offspring, and thine elder son, although but six years of age, shall cling to thy garments, and shall say, My father, my father, why can’t you stay with us?...if the heavens gather blackness, and all the elements combine to hedge up the way; and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.  The Son of Man hath descended below them all.  Art thou greater than he?   Doctrine and Covenents 122.

"But I want to be with you forever mommy!"  "You will, baby.  You know that.  We talk about it in church all the time."  "I know, but I want to be in the same spot as you.  I want to always be in the same area.  Do you know what I mean?"  "Yes."  Tears.  "I just want to be touching you all the time."

I know exactly what he means.

Which is why tomorrow I check myself into the ICU and hope the gates of hell to swallow me whole, and spit me out, but keep the cancer please!!!  Give me some experience, fine!  But let me live!!!


No conclusions were reached here either I guess.  See?


  1. (tears.) As it was fast Sunday yesterday, and when times are toughest, I bet it's hard to feel the effects of so many people fasting and praying for you. But we do! Even sweet 8 year old Haley. We HATE HATE HATE cancer too and hope that this treatment gives it a big swift kick in the crotch.

  2. Oh Alisa; I'm so sorry! I can't even begin to imagine the internal turmoil you must be going through, the confusion and craziness. Yes, focus on that big goal this week and FIGHT! We'll be praying that the gates of hell spit you back out, cancer free! Love you.

  3. My heart is breaking for you Alisa. You are just one of the most beautiful, real people I know. You have every right to feel the way you feel. I can't even imagine how you are feeling but I know that there are a lot of people (myself included) who are angry for you. You are a FIGHTER... kick that cancers ASS (pardon my french...) Sometimes there just are no better words.

  4. I check daily for your posts. My heart just sinks every time, I want to say something that will make you better and comfort the hearts of your Children and Josh. Though we don't understand on the outside, I truly do believe you are one valiant spirit. You have taught me do much, though I know you'd rather not. And your feelings are real and you are allowed to own them. Hugs and thoughts and prayers.

  5. That little Luke just wrenches my heart out. I'm glad for another post, even if you think it doesn't make sense. Just like Luke wants to be touching you all the time, I want to be hearing you all the time. I love you. Good luck this week. Miss you.

  6. Alisa - all my love and thoughts are with you (and Luke and everyone else who just wants to be in the same spot with you).

  7. I understand 100% where you are coming from but with out the Cancer. You are so much better than me I know I would say I do all the let me go and stop this pain.
    I get asked that alot and lots of time you say I am fine or I am ok when deep inside you want them to just go away. You do lots better than I do I now just tell people what I think and they do not like that.

  8. I love Julie's comment about all of us who want to be in the same spot with you. I cried when I read what Luke said to you. Oh the heartbreak I felt. I can't imagine how your "mommy heart" hurt. This Mother's Day hope to be a little bit more like you, Dear Alisa. The love you have for your boys radiates! We all see it and can feel it through your actions, your words, and your just being. I am in awe of you dear friend. I hope to help you load furniture in and out of our houses for years to come.

  9. Dear Luke, keep hugging your Mom.

  10. Alisa, I think you explain yourself well.