Malignant

I write about the power of trying, because I want to be okay with failing. I write about generosity because I battle selfishness. I write about joy because I know sorrow. I write about faith because I almost lost mine, and I know what it is to be broken and in need of redemption. I write about gratitude because I am thankful - for all of it.

-  Kristin Armstrong

Hope - Part 007 : April 5th 2015

When there is a slightest bit of hope, don't you wanna know that? 

These are the most frequent question that almost everyone will ask me when I told them I really do not wanna know how my condition is and how things are at this very moment. There was one question that is burning in me to really wanna ask them back. 

Can you name the single worst, most malignant symptoms of terminal cancer? 

It's hope. It's recurrent. And it keeps creeping back in no matter how many times it gets ripped apart.

UM gave me hope in a phase 3 clinical trial. It failed.

NYU hope radio surgery would work. It didn't. 

And Cancer Institute Malaysia, has high high hopes for portent combinations of chemo and ablation. No go.

And every time the hope goes, it takes chunks of you with it. Until you can only find comfort in that ONE thing, that you know you can count on. 

They ask me why am I calm. I am not calm. I don't show doesn't mean I feel okay inside. They asked me to find comfort in a higher power. It's not that I do not believe. I only have this one question. Why would God let that happen, and I don't understand it. You can do everything right, and it doesn't even matter. Why.. I've been looking for answers for the past 7 years. 

There is a thing we say when someone dies. We say it to the families left behind. We say. I'm sorry for your lost. It's a pad little phrase, and an empty one. It's doesn't begin to cover what actually is happening to them. It lets us empathize without forcing us to feel their devastation ourselves. It protects us from feeling that pain. That dark, sinking relentless pain. The kind that can eat you alive. And every day, I thank God for that.

I know what it is walking into a hospital knowing that my condition is just a little to no chance of success. To do all the planning, treatments, and hoping and labor knowing in the end, it may amount to nothing, ven when it's impossible.But I know it is asked of me. If I can't do it, if I am not willing to keep looking for light in the darkest of places, without stopping, even it seems impossible. I will never succeed. 

I can't get too close to just wanna give up. If I felt even a little of the love, the joy, and the hopes that my love ones are saying goodbye to, I wouldn't even able to function. Sometimes, I just wanna look you in the eye, tell you to " just take me home. Take me home, take me to bed and just hold me. "

That some little bit of support, some bit of peace, some bit of closure. Something good. Some little piece of beauty in the mist of some place dark. An unexpected gift. Just when it needed most. That was that one thing that happened - You.

These few weeks hasn't been great for us. I know that you have been the light for me every single day. Keeping my smile going even when things are so bad. You kept my hopes up when I have lost them. You kept the optimism going when I have none to begin with.  You are the one thing good I have now. You are the one thing that keeps me from not believing things are bad. You are aart of that support that I always wanted on top of what I already had. You kept me going forward. 

But there is one thing I hope you'll read it here. The one thing you and I always avoided. If things goes the way we didn't expect to go... Remember this.. And I will keep on fighting on until I draw my very last breath of air. 

You have lost somebody. And you are hurting. But you will get through this. You can survive this. You are strong. It's okay. You are gonna be okay. I promised. And I will always be the one to tell you " Niey " before you go to bed. #3 always.