In an effort to be vulnerable and real and honest it is imperative to share a day in which cancer was not a blessing in our household recently. We often think of anger as a liquid substance- it can boil over and explode. Last week we had a day at our house where there was plenty of boiling over and exploding. Of course, the object of all of our anger was cancer but you can't really express anger to cancer. It is much easier to express it and spew it forth on those around you that you love.
The day began with discovering that our Jack Russell Terrier (about 15 pounds) had devoured a very large chocolate dipped Valentine's cookie. Due to a variety of circumstances we were not able to clearly identify the amount ingested until much later so the toxins simply had to run their course. Chocolate can be fatal and we learned of the side effects and what to expect and when to grow concerned. Of course, even typing this now I am smiling because it is quite humorous to picture Biddy running in figure eights around the house not really understanding why she was doing it but stopping only to pant and do it some more. It's humorous because she survived the ordeal- only to ingest an entire piece of pizza and some garlic dipping sauce last night but that's a different post.
While the dog was tearing through the house like a mad , well, dog... anger was surfacing. There was shouting about how we all worry too much. There was guilt for leaving a cookie out downstairs on a table unwrapped. There was anger for irresponsibility. There were the inevitable words spoken that you later wish you could take back. It was ugly. Anger was boiling over and covering our household. Everyone retreated to their corners and caught their breath. It passed and we all realized that our anger was really about cancer and the fact that treatments are coming that scare us to death with their potential side effects and astronomical costs. For those of us outside the treatments we dread watching someone we love get sick and then feel well only to get sick again. For Brett there is simply the dread of being sick and the what ifs- will my hair fall out? will I be able to work? will there be lasting side effects? after all of this, will it work?
The dog's figure eights in a maddened state served as a perfect metaphor for our household that night. We are all doing figure eights, mad with anger and worry and dread, and we are all pausing to look up at each other bewildered. Just as the dog's anxiety and hyperactivity passed within a few hours, our anger subsided and we re-oriented ourselves to what is truly important. We weathered the toxins and worked them out of our systems and allowed peace and faith to return. The ugliness of anger is that when it boils over it almost always spills out over the ones we love. The beauty is that they love us, they understand, they can forgive in time.
I hope there are no more figure eights in our house in the future from dogs or humans. I hope we can find a straight and steady course and hold hands and walk together as we face down the true focus of our anger. I also hope we can let go of the anger and replace it once again with peace and blessings. But, we're human after all and I'm sure we'll still have days in the pressure cooker.
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