How we carried each other through cancer
There is SO MUCH I want to write about how Kara and I navigated the stresses of illness and cancer treatment. But even thinking about the question calls up so many memories and emotions that I never get any further with it than adding a few vague topics into a Google document.
It's like my inner editor has roped off the subject with yellow tape labeled BIG IDEA DO NOT CROSS. Apparently, I would rather spin my wheels over questions like "who is this for" and "what's my hook" than "let the pain access the thumbs for writing and share the darkness within," to quote from one of Kara's blog posts ("Healing Is Hard," Jan. 6, 2020).
Not that it's always detrimental to consider audience and structure early on in a writing project. Or that writing is a linear act based on analytical and intuitive processes that should unfold in a certain order. But in my case, my subconscious seems to be telling me I'm not ready to write in depth about how Kara and I dealt with what proved to be a terminal disease. At least not in the current mishmash of stresses I'm facing.
Which is weird, because I can talk about the subject all day if prompted by specific questions. Throw words on a screen, though? Suddenly I'm in need of an academic advisor or a literary agent. Or both.
Okay, so maybe I'm not ready to pen my Fear and Loathing in the Infusion Room (which would be a misleading title anyway, as the pandemic made sure I didn't get to accompany Kara through most of her treatments). I'd still like to make some sort of written commentary about how my wife and I grew stronger and closer together because of her illness. Not every couple responds to illness this way, although maybe you already know that.
Here then, is what will hopefully be the first of an ongoing series of short reflections on what we did to support each other through some of the darkest moments of our lives.
Cancer copilot talk: The mailbox
Do you remember the animated sitcom, The Flintstones? It centered on two neighboring couples living in the Stone Age: Fred and Wilma Flintstone and Barney and Betty Rubble. In one episode, Fred and Barney are moving a piano when Barney gets his foot stuck under the massive stone. Because the piano is a surprise gift for Wilma, he runs to the nearest mailbox and screams into it so as not to draw attention (until the poor mailman comes along).
Kara and I were like that mailbox in our emotional support system. At different times, we would vent our pain in front of each other like Barney screaming into the mailbox, knowing how damaging it can be to bury our feelings or unleash them on the world. By doing this in private, and also talking about its value later, we learned to collaborate in shaping how we experienced our inner woundedness.
After a good cry, Kara would tell me, "Crying is natural, Charles, crying relieves pain." Likewise, after one of my many sputtering diatribes, I would thank her for listening to me by saying, "You're my closest friend. You're the only one I can show this side of myself to." These conversations not only helped us check in with each other as equal partners in our emotional support system, but reassured us that our suffering was all right, that it was not something to fix, avoid, or avenge. Let me say that last phrase again: Not something to fix, avoid, or avenge.
It bears repeating because it is easy to understand but hard to recognize in practice--partly because as a society we tend to believe the opposite and find quick validation in some medical authorities and Internet experts, not to mention family, friends, and peers. Which is not to say don't seek professional advice if you think you need it, only that a mailbox can go a long way when you realize life has dropped a piano on your foot and you don't want the whole neighborhood to know it.
And yes, people are becoming more aware of the importance of seeking emotional support. I just wanted to throw in my two cents as a caregiver. Or rather my two clams (I just looked it up--clams were one of the dominant forms of currency in the Stone Age, at least according to The Flintstones).
If you're not doing anything constructive, buy our books
In one of my favorite Christmas movies, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, one of Clark Griswold's relatives shouts at him, "If you're not doing anything constructive, run into the living room and get my stogie," while Clark is cleaning up trash spilled by another relative's Rottweiler. I'm going to be similarly annoying here and make my shameless holiday plug.
I'm sure you're busy with plenty of constructive things, but nevertheless, would you consider buying a book or two published by Kara and me under the imprint Biggy Sancho Books? Before Kara Sparkled On from her artist persona as Kara Picante Muir, aka Morocco Leonard (her pseudonym), we begat two of them.
Our joint publishing debut, Fiona Plays With Her Beaver, follows the struggles of a pug to recover her lost stuffed beaver and is TOTALLY INNOCENT and basically Lord of the Rings for children and pug lovers, I promise! Our follow-up, Pug Monster Gallery, transmutes the usual generic pug line drawings in kids' coloring books into horrifically heartwarming, fang-tastic gold for dog lovers, horror fans, and even budding artists. The Children's Book Review described it as "partially a humorous ghost-story collection, partly a coloring book, and wholly hilarious" (you can find the review here). This book is 100% Kara's imagination and vision and I am so proud of it!
Word on the street has it that both Fiona Plays With Her Beaver and Pug Monster Gallery are solid choices for holiday gifts. You can find them on Amazon and wherever else books are sold online.
A few years ago, we did an interview about Pug Monster Gallery. You can find it here.
But wait, there's free stuff, too
For some reason, the original audio companion to Fiona Plays With Her Beaver has disappeared from the Internet. Because this is not cool, I found the original audio file and republished it on my YouTube channel. If you have the book, you can flip through it with your family while listening to the charming and totally Fiona-approved narration by friend and voice actor, Rob Messel. If you don't have the book, buy it and get me my stogie!
Check out the audio companion to Fiona Plays With Her Beaver here.
Lastly for now, a jump into the Way Back Machine with this FREE holiday ebook! Inspired by a creepy Santa statue haunting my sister and brother-in-law's house in the creepy year of 2020, this cosmic cocktail of terror serves up "The Night Before Christmas" with a garnish of Yuletide depravity and debauchery. Don't read this one to the kiddos on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, or ever, ho-ho-ha! Seriously, if holiday horror movies like Black Christmas and Silent Night, Bloody Night are your thing, check out "Faster, Santa Claus, Kill! Kill!" We made this photo poetry book (for lack of a better label) just for you (well, not really--Santa made us)!
And with that, I am signing off with one more post to go before the new year.
Until next time.
--Charles Austin Muir
Comments