The Nuance of Slowly Dying

The premise of death is one which worries everyone, regardless of which schema we reside in. Our daily routine and activities are carried by our uniquely-human affinity for progress. We partake in these actions with the idea of moving forward, often feeling empty when they're not completed. Whether this emptiness is from disappointing ourselves, our contemporaries, or a superior, the fear of shame is enough to keep progress in motion. Though what happens when one's routine and activity is based upon the intent of regression and prevention? One would think the shame of disappointment to be void in these ideas, though when regression is the expected outcome, shame still persists.

While surviving sounds like a miracle, tragedy sits in my mind like an undying worm. At the age of fifteen I was given less than a year to live, yet here I am ten years later. Engulfed by the responsibilities which have brought me this far, I am reminded of why I'm fighting with each action; living solely to prevent my disease from growing. My day starts with cooking in order to obtain the nutrients I need to fight my disease. Following a meal I compulsively clean to prevent foodborne-illnesses, as my immune system is not in shape to engage in multiple fights at once. I am traumatized by my diet, being too scared to eat out in fear of not being able to control the ingredients and cleanliness. This has practically caused an eating disorder, as if I eat something I feel is harmful, I will quietly find a bathroom and throw up said food. Not just am I spending most of my day cooking, I am spending a ridiculous amount of money on eating food with healthy ingredients. When I am left with little to no time or money to enjoy my hobbies, I have to remind myself that it is for the regression and prevention of my disease.

Our everyday routine and activities can be exhausting since they are often duties we undertake out of obligation or necessity, rather than doing what is preferred. We sacrifice our personal time for work or school, as we know that the money earned will grant progress in the form of saving for a worthy investment. In doing so, a fulfilling sense of accomplishment is gained, offering a reason to keep working. Four years ago, I had to leave a nursing program after three years of study to undergo treatments. Over the past two years, I had to quit three jobs to focus on these treatments. The timing and effects of the treatments left me in a realm of defeat; If I can't work, how am I a sustainable human? Following many treatments, a disease in my leg called lymphedema has taken prominence. This disease causes my leg to swell in size throughout the day, which becomes extremely painful. Dealing with this issue has made me reliant on medical equipment to mitigate the effects, leaving much of my day to dealing with my leg alone. I am left in a position to indirectly demand help, whether it be from my family or friends. The unpredictability of my energy levels means that I no longer commit to plans with people who care for me with the confidence I once had. Any social interaction is tainted with an awareness of my limitations, often leading me to withdrawing from invitations, fearing that my presence may be a burden. Often unable to find the words to explain the intensity of this grief; it's easy to summarize that I'm not living for myself, rather the regression and prevention of my disease. Hearing people discuss the monotonous nature of their schedule adds to my increasing cynicism. What I would do for even just the opportunity of being in their position.

In my moments of reflection, I yearn to gift someone the softness of my unlabored hands, to caress their heart with sweet affirmations which echo the depths of my devotion. Yet, as each year goes by in this fight, things just seem to become increasingly difficult. Who would I be to expect anyone to join me in this painful existence? I long to share my life with someone who understands the depths of my pain, someone who can grasp the beauty within my fleeting existence, but the fear of burdening them with this reality leaves me in a state of hesitation. This paradox is simply a delicate dance between the desire to connect and the instinct to protect both myself and my potential partner from the pain my illness will bring. The person who I would have loved in a reality where I am allowed to be Jared - a reality where our dreams are allowed to unfold with no constraints - does not deserve my impending instability. They should not have to navigate my uncertainties, nor should they carry the weight of my fears. My world is one which is defined by unpredictability and sorrow, one where plans can dissolve in an instant, where joy feels undeserved. The prevention of my disease has left me in a position of constant emotional repression. I have ultimately arrived at the conclusion that by choosing to love no one, I in turn love everyone, as I spare this potential chaos.

My cancer has reached its tendrils into every aspect of my life, affecting my diet, schedule, work, and social interactions. The once simple choice of choosing dinner for the night has become a complex part of my day. My daily schedule, once filled with a rhythm of commitments and social opportunity, has been prioritized by doctors visits, treatment, and rest. My desire for affection and having someone to love has turned into a bout of mental gymnastics for the purpose of protecting the potential person. Although the effects on my body and the pain I experience is significant, they are minor compared to the decline in my appreciation for the small joys in life, as even these small joys become nuanced by the overreaching battle. Daily activities and routines are driven by a desire for progress, though in a fight against stage four cancer, my day is driven by this disease; regression and prevention.