Is it all worth it?

I've met some incredible women on my cancer journey; I've had a chance to learn my own strength; I've had a chance to implement positive change in the world (3-Day, Race, etc.) through my breast cancer journey. My marriage was shaken beyond what I'd imagined possible, and survived; my friendships were tested and given gold stars. Still, the question is asked, is cancer worth it?

This question is often asked in the cancer community. When I was at the LiveSTRONG event in Portland in 2005, I met a testicular cancer survivor who saw my bandana over my bald head and said, "Cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me. My life is so much better now!" He's lucky he was able to walk away from me, his words made me so angry. "The best?" I practically spat at him, "My husband and daughter are gifts, the best thing that ever happened to me. Cancer is a disease!" The poor man was trying to reach out to me, and looked surprised, and looking back, I'm surprised at my own rudeness toward him, but I was in a bad place.

Well, today the question came up again on the YSC boards, and as usual, there are two sides: those who think that the disease has brought more joy (friendships, etc.) than pain; and those who feel differently. Here is my response.
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It is NOT worth it, and that is why I fight so hard to find an end to the disease on both a personal and a public level.

I look at my daughter when she's sleeping, and I vow that I would do anything to stay on this planet, mothering her. Yes, I want to write my book; yes, I want to retire with my husband; yes, I want to revisit Tuscany; yes, I want to run a marathon....but I'd give it all up just to be here to be her mother, to love her, to hold her, to reassure her, to tell her how beautiful and strong and kind she is.

Cancer is trying to take that from me, and I'm resentful about it.

I don't believe that it's 100% a terrible experience, because with deep sorrow comes deep joy. Because of the depth of my sorrow, I've been granted an opportunity to do more meaningful things with my life, I've learned the quality of my friendships, and I've seen my marriage tested beyond belief only to survive. I've met incredible women, that's certain. And I've learned a new type of compassion and empathy; I relate to people in a different way that I believe is healthy and empowering and helps me to feel even more connected to humanity. I will take joy where I can find it, and there have been many joys along the way.

But I'd give them all up to stay here with Tessa. I would give up these new joys for the old ones. The old ones were so innocent; I didn't know I was missing anything, because I was so happy. Life wasn't bad at all before cancer. I wasn't on the wrong path, I didn't have shallow friendships.I don't feel particularly bitter about it all, I just feel filled with the desire to change things. I can accept where I've been as long as I feel that I can find meaning where there is none.It's meaningless that I got cancer. I'm creating meaning by fundraising, speaking, and changing my life to change the disease. That's ME, though, not cancer. Cancer is a devil, and there's nothing good about it. The joy that comes after cancer isn't because of cancer, it's because of an inherent beauty within ourselves, and in our desire for something more than cancer, that makes us create new, wonderful, positive meaning where there might only have been pain.

Cancer is not a gift. I've paid, and paid, and paid for my learning. The cost has been too high. I'll take my learning, since I paid for it, but the debt is overwhelming.

And yet? I think I see where others come from when they describe cancer as a gift in their lives. Lance Armstrong says it, and he's not a fool. I just feel differently.