Last night I had a vivid dream: I was piloting a small two-seater plane and it was going down!
I was flying along and all was well, then suddenly everything went black! When I came to, we were plummeting to earth. We were going straight down! I desperately reached for the controls, and not knowing how exactly it happened, I somehow landed on a fairly pleasant island. I walked around and explored it, met lots of interesting people, but I desperately wanted to go home. I searched and searched but couldn’t find a runway. I went around asking for help, but couldn’t figure out how to get my plane to take off again. I was stuck on this little island. Stuck and yearning for home!
I think what may have triggered this dream was the conversation I had with our 10 year old daughter last night just before bed. A dear friend recently passed away, and we were talking about grief and some of the ways his wife might be feeling, and what the journey of grief is like. And because I take eight pills every day and lung cancer is our ever present reality, lung cancer was there last night too, just below the surface of this conversation with my daughter. I let her bring it up, and we talked a bit about it, and once again I heard words that break my heart, words that no mom wants to hear from her little girl: I don’t remember what you were like before lung cancer.
I’m tearing up this morning, sitting at the computer writing this. I wish lung cancer had never entered our lives. I wish we could escape it. I want to be healed!
Lung cancer unexpectedly plunged our little plane into a nose dive. By some miracle we didn’t crash and burn but now we’re trapped on this little island and it feels very small.
I’ve been privileged to meet wonderful people here. I’ve learned a lot and grown a lot. I’ve experienced so much grace and kindness from many sources. I’m so grateful my life has been extended… but I want to go home: I want to be healthy again! I yearn for life without appointments, needles, scans, anxiety, frustration, daily pills, pain and far too many limitations. I yearn for life without lung cancer!
I dream of a cure for lung cancer!
November is Lung Cancer Awareness Month.
One in thirteen Canadians will be diagnosed with lung cancer.
Lung cancer is the deadliest cancer.
Funding for lung cancer research is abysmal.
Far too many of us are dreaming of a cure for lung cancer.
Would you help us?
Wondering where to give?
http://www.lungcancercanada.ca is a great Canadian charity
https://lungevity.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=portal.home&participantID=36888 is still accepting donations for ALK+ research (US charity, but will help us)
https://lungevity.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=portal.home&participantID=37532 will help me go to the big Hope Summit in DC in May
More to come…
Our memories are not just cognitive. Our personalities, our actions, they are shaped by the people we’ve met and the things we’ve known. Whether we “remember” or not, those times and people continue to live in and through us. Your kids are the people they are because of the love and wisdom they received from you, both pre-lung cancer and post. Their lives are memories in the world.
Thanks Dr. Nicholas
… but is a cure too much to hope for?
So well written Jill. Thank you! Your faith and spirit are amazing strong in the face of your daily struggles. We have no idea unless we’ve been there. I only wish for you strength, love, peace and joy. Loads of hugs too. You give me insight also into what it must be like for my friend who is battling pancreatic cancer. I think of her young kids too. All our love to you. Really thank you for taking us with you in your writings. Your honesty and courage are beautiful as are you.
Thanks for sharing your dream Jill, your powerful interpretation and your journey. You continue to be in my prayers. Psalm 91.4
“He will cover you with his feathers. He will shelter you with his wings. His faithful promises are your armour and protection.” Thank you, Marcia!
I will pray that hope floats to the surface in your life and in your dreams. There is a cure coming, Jill. The day and your dearest loved ones are our gift for the days we find ourselves in now. I will pray for joy to come and colour your dreams. God is near.
Thinking of you Jill, such courage in sharing your journey
Thank you for sharing your thoughts Jill. We continue to pray for you and your family. Your writing struck a chord with me. I too have been struggling but with a different issue, depression, it is just as you say “I want to be healed”. Thank you for sharing your struggles and hopes.
Minna (and David)
That dream is such an apt description. However, as awful as this is, look around that island at all the wonderful people. And know that you are not alone. xoxo