Things That Make Me Cry

I haven't cried much in the past two years -- not when I first heard the doctor say the word "cancer", not when I was told about the treatment I'd have to undergo, not when the cancer came back, not even with the latest news that the cancer has spread to my brain, lungs, liver, and bones.

This is not because I'm a stoic and I think it's weak to cry. I think a good, cathartic cry is great therapy and I highly recommend it (within reason, of course). But each time I hear awful news, I go into problem-solving mode: What do I need to do? Is there a way to fix this? And most times, there's somebody else there with me that I need to console, which keeps me too busy to cry. We all know this instinct to forget about yourself to make things okay for someone else, especially those of us who are parents.

But there are two things that DO make me cry: 1) thinking about my kids, and 2) the amazingly kind things people are doing for me and my family.

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I didn't cry until one night when I went to rock Toby back to sleep. He was just five months old at the time and I was walking back and forth holding him in my arms, singing "What a Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong. I got to the part that goes, "I hear babies cryin'. I watch them grow..." and I started thinking about the possibility that this little bundle in my arms would have to grow up without a mommy and I felt so sad for him and cried my way through the rest of the song.

Yesterday, I learned that an oncologist in the U.K. who is a friend of a colleague of a friend of a friend...(can't even remember how many people in this chain) is presenting my case to a group of ten doctors to see if they can offer any suggestions. This doctor was at his own mother's funeral when he got the call about me and apologized for having to call back a few hours later. When I heard about this, I cried.

When I read about my friend offering to auction off her phone and throw in her own cash to raise money for Max's brain cancer treatment, I cried. We need to raise $80,000 dollars in about a month, and here she is working on $1,000 at a time, with such optimism and enthusiasm. This is the same beautiful hope that made another friend's six-year-old daughter offer up her piggy bank. I cried and smiled at the same time.

I think there was a time when I would have expected, rather than been surprised by, such acts of kindness. That must have been when I was about ten years old. But the more I saw of the pain, hate, and cruelty in the world, the lower I set my expectations.

I've learned in these last few years of fighting cancer, that there is more good in the world and in us than I'd believed. That's cause for tears. Happy tears.