I was invited to introduce myself. I don’t want my introduction to be about cancer. I don’t
want to use the word cancer ten times in this blog post, but I probably
will.
I have stage 4 terminal lung cancer. Today, I am on oral chemotherapy and I’m
doing really well. Statistics say I have
a 1% chance to live five years. Thanks
to a mutation, I have a good chance of being in that 1%. But of course, numbers are irrelevant—either
I live or die and there are no guarantees.
This blog was not set up to be about cancer. Several years ago, after being inspired by
Brene Brown, I started this blog to “tell the truth” about my life. Looking back, my plan was to have an awesome
life. (With a few ups and downs of course,
but I trusted that it was not going to have to play out like a crappy reality
TV show.) Now this. My blog has been hijacked. My whole life has been hijacked.
Last night I had a showing of some paintings made since my
diagnosis. Just before it was my turn to
speak (about my cancer of course), I thought, “I really don’t want this to be
my story.” I really don’t. I want to have a cooler introduction.
When I was about six years old, I wore a gold “ERA”
necklace. It was the early seventies and
the equal rights amendment was on the table.
I felt proud of being young and passionate about something. That has been my life ever since. Anyone who has known me
in the many circles I have been part of, will tell you I am passionate, and
justice has always been just under my skin and on the tip of my tongue. Love
and justice have always been the themes of my life.
Here’s the introduction and life story that I worked my
whole life to build: I’m Colleen. I’m a
kick-ass revolutionary who is working to rip apart the lies that feed injustice
and showing up to build a better world.
(Of course, I’d like to include the vulnerable truth that I make a lot
of mistakes along the way, because, you know, Brene Brown.)
Okay, that story is really shooting for the stars. If I
can’t be that cool, I would like to tell a story of the quirky mundane life of
a queer pagan parent. Yeah, that is what
I was thinking when I started this blog.
Today when I was driving to Trader Joes (cheapest organic
milk in town), I caught myself appreciating the feel of the sun on my face in a
way that reminded me how much I love this life.
There is a certain way facing mortality changes everything. The drive to Trader Joes. The sun on your face. I remembered I was dying. I looked at my fingernail beds and noticed
the shape of them and wondered if anyone else would hold the shape of my
fingernail beds in their memory so that they might live on, or would they die with
me? That is what going to the grocery
store can be like for me now.
You asked me to introduce myself and I can’t make my story
not be about cancer. I can’t make my
story not be about death.
Here it is. I am Colleen—and I believe in love and justice. I have a big huge heart that loves so many,
but can’t save a single one from the wrath of pain that my death might cause. If I told you a story about how
happy and fulfilled I am living my life today, it would be true. Yet, it would be empty of the truth.
I hate cancer. I hate
that my life is about cancer. I hate
that the only way for me to properly and fully introduce myself is to tell you a story that I wish wasn’t mine.
