It was not all that long ago during a conversation with my dad, that I expressed my concern about only writing the positive stories for my blog. “I’m Facebooking my story,” I explained, comparing my posts to the similarly rose-colored ones people put up on social media. “It’s not accurate,” I said. At the time, I was discussing my professional blog, and asking for his advice on how to remain professional but still share an accurate view of what teaching is really like. The sentiment, however, more so than ever, pertains to my personal writing as well.

“Stay positive.” If I had a dime…

Believe me, I know that being positive is the only way through this, I know. But where exactly is the positive? This diagnosis cannot be saved with “silver linings.” I can point out and even celebrate each and every small victory – the brain MRI was clear of tumors, for example. Yea! The BRAF mutation we were praying for came back exactly as we had hoped, positive – yea! But the more we learn, the more even those silver linings don’t feel like victories. The brain is clear, for now, but melanoma loves to travel to the brain – it may be only a matter of time. And that BRAF mutation? Yes, it may give us an additional treatment option later on, but it also means the tumors grow faster. Doesn’t really feel like a win.

My husband coughs like a two-a-day smoker, sleeps more than he is awake and feels completely powerless over what is happening to him. Nothing tastes good to him, his appetite is down and we haven’t even gotten started with treatment side effects yet.

Treatment starts later today. We head once again, to Ann Arbor where we have an hour-long class to teach us about the treatment, an appointment with the oncologist and then his first immunotherapy. All the research we have done has basically said there is absolutely no way to predict how or if he will respond to the treatment.

But “Stay positive!”

James and I have realized the urgency with which we need to have some difficult conversations so we’ve started the “one hard question per drive” game. It’s lovely. Whether we drive to the grocery store or all the way to U of M, we try to discuss one hard topic. And while I drive and we talk, my heart just falls to pieces every single time. Out of these discussions have come tasks like calling the lawyer just to make sure the will is good to go; reevaluating the way we have the cars titled; follow-ups with financial advisors; and believe me when I say, far worse topics as well. We hold it together and talk like it’s a Saturday morning discussing the bills or upcoming vacation plans, but it’s anything but.

Stay positive.

And while all of this is happening to us, I think back to my parents. They must have had the same conversations and then some. We were young, then. I can’t imagine those that have to worry about children in all of this.

Stay positive.

A friend asked me recently how’s my faith? My all-too honest reply was “nonexistent.” My anger, however? That’s pretty prevalent.

My mother, I expect might be disappointed in me. She never ever seemed to waiver during her battle with cancer – not in her faith, and not in her confidence. Maybe she did privately, I was, as I mentioned, young, and surely she wouldn’t have let us kids in on her own grief, but she never seemed to doubt God. If I am forced to “silver lining” her death, it is that I am certain she brought more people to those pearly gates with her testimony than were originally headed that direction.

I also realize, of course, that there are far worse things happening to millions more people in the world. Our struggle, despite all that it is, would still be a welcome change for the atrocities some people are currently suffering. I know that. I do. But I still selfishly want more for us.

This afternoon, we will have yet again a “hard question” drive. And our return trip will be full of even more unknowns where patience is the only way through. Our spring break “vacation” next week will hopefully be uneventful at the farm, and we will remain hopeful that side effects are minimal and the impact on the tumors is significant. We will, as much as we possibly can, stay positive.

But, I will also be angry and resentful. I will also be frustrated and irritated. I will be impatient and anxious. I will be worried and fearful and stressed. We will fight this disease. We will give it every ounce of energy we have to defeat it and all the while I will pray for miracles. I will pray. But my words will not always be kind or grateful. And He is just going to have to forgive me for that.