When I checked the headlines online this morning, I saw that Luciano Pavarotti died… another victim of pancreatic cancer. Although his was operable. And he lived more than a year after his diagnosis… an unbearably low number of patients do. (It’s a statistic that makes you shudder: 15%. And that’s number doesn’t reveal anything about what that year is like and whether or not it’s worth beating the odds.)
Pancreatic cancer is simply not a cancer that most people know much about. I knew nothing about it until Mom was diagnosed. And then I got too scared to do much research because I just didn’t want to know.
I’d like to think that Pavarotti’s death will at least bring about some discussion of the cancer. But it won’t. When you read a story about a celebrity diagnosed with breast cancer, it is filled with statistics and information about the disease. What I’ve read about Pavarotti was a dull recap of every note he’d ever sung.
Maybe Pavarotti’s cancer won’t change the big picture. But it did something to me. It made me stop and really think about what the disease took from me and from Kaitlyn. And it reminded me of why I quit working to spend time with Kaitlyn. Yes, I was miserable at work. But part of that was because my mom’s death made me realize how precious our time is and how much more of mine I wanted to spend with my daughter. It sounds goofy and cliché but it’s my story.
It’s a reminder I needed after a difficult day of struggling with one strong-willed four year old yesterday. So today when I picked her up for lunch, it was with a better outlook. Lunch together isn’t taking time out of my day or setting ourselves up for a struggle over the tv, or going back to school. It’s a blessing I’ve been handed… a chance most Moms don’t get to spend more time with my beautiful little girl. She wanted to have a picnic on the floor, using the pillows off the couch for tables. Sure! She wanted to give her stuffed Pooh Bear his own juice box. Go ahead. She helped me make our pizza. We played with her dolls. We ate on the floor. (with a blanket acting as a table cloth) I drew a pretend pizza slice on Pooh’s paper plate. Did Kaitlyn ask to watch tv? You bet she did. Did she fuss about going back to school? Yea, she did that, too. But it didn’t define our time together. Playing and enjoying each other’s company did.
I don’t know how many years I will get to spend with Kaitlyn. Twenty? Forty? Sixty? Maybe. Maybe less. Maybe more. It’s not a question we get to know the answer to. So I’m not going to waste my time. That doesn’t mean I won’t spend some of that time snuggling with her on the couch watching tv. That’s some of the time I spent with my mom that I remember most. It was special to me. And I think to her, too.
Pancreatic cancer is a horrible, horrible killer. I’m not a doctor, I can’t even think about blood without getting grossed out. I’m not going to find a cure. But I am going to find some way to fight it and to help others fight it. I am not going to let my loss be for nothing. I may never even realize the good that will come out of it. But I know this… good will. It has to.
Very well written. I’m proud to be your father, knowing what values you put on life itself and those in your life.