Life Sucks! (But it doesn't have to)

Life does suck.  We all know it, we all experience it.  We may call the parts that suck trials or struggles or temptations or tests or something else.  These parts of life, as much as we dislike them or avoid them, are EXPERIENCE and without them, life would have no meaning.  Case in point:  researchers have discovered that they can remove the "negative memories" in the brains of mice, while leaving the "positive memories" intact.  They hope to be able to replicate these results in humans.   (To read more:  http://mashable.com/2013/09/25/erase-bad-memories/)

What if we could erase our bad experiences?  Forget that dirtbag in college who broke our heart, forget the death of a sibling, the horrible skiing injury, the car accident, getting caught cheating on a test?  How would this reshape our consciousness?  Surely for the better, right? However, when people were polled about if they'd unload their bad memories, they responded with a resounding "NO!"  Most people would not consign their negative memories or experiences to the trashcan so quickly.  As some said, "These experiences made me who I am today." 

I have to agree, and my agreement hinges on some poignant personal experience.  During the Spring and Summer of 2012, I noticed that a chronic, and diagnosed-benign, cyst in my breast was growing larger, becoming painful, and moving toward my armpit.  Some quick online research told me that cancerous tumors don't grow quickly, don't move, and aren't painful. Safe! I thought and put it out of my mind.  There were plenty of other things to focus on during the last half of 2013:  son on a mission in Virginia, another son facing first some legal troubles then a serious football injury then surgery, a daughter's wedding.  Lots to do and lots to think about, no time for figuring out how to obtain health insurance, how to get to the doctor, how to pay for said services, especially when our household income was already stretched far too thin.  

In August and September of 2013 I began to notice back pain that ranged from uncomfortable to severe.  I went to the gym each morning and was in great shape.  I assumed my pains were associated with muscle strain.  The pain became worse as the lump in my breast continued to grow.  I developed a new theory:  the size and weight of the lump were causing a change in posture resulting in muscle pain.  In hindsight, of course, I recognize in these excuses an unwillingness to face what I probably knew in my heart were significant health problems.  

As my physical pain reached new and almost disabling proportions, I found myself on my knees constantly, praying to my Heavenly Father for relief, for mercy, even sometimes for death, but I did not seek medical treatment.  I was convinced that the needs of the other members of my family exceeded my own and that a less chaotic time would come in which I could address my own problems.  I hid my pain from my husband, my children, and my extended family, thinking I was appropriately prioritizing myself last, as the scriptures seem to suggest we do.  

When my struggles could be hidden no longer, family began to urge me to seek treatment.  I began by attempting to sign up for health insurance.  This took much longer than expected and when I finally completed my online applications I learned I would not be officially covered until January 1, 2014.  I was determined to wait until that date before going to see a doctor.  At this time I was in constant, severe pain both night and day.  

Late in December, my mother convinced me to finally see the doctor about the lump in my breast, which had grown to the size of an orange.  I agreed.  My doctor knew immediately that it was not a simple cyst.  He referred me for a mammogram and ultrasound.  The next day, these tests as well as some biopsies confirmed that I had breast cancer.  I was devastated and emotions ranged from self-hatred to sorrow to anger to despair and depression.  But worse was still to come.

The next morning, I awoke, sat on the edge of my bed, and sneezed.  Pain lanced through my neck, accompanied by muscle spasms that felt like a boa constrictor around my throat.  The feeling was so intense I felt sure my head would pop off.  My husband Jeff was at my side immediately, but neither of us knew what to do.  Each time I moved, even slightly, the pain and muscle spasms returned with greater intensity.  Jeff called 911.  Paramedics arrived, immobilized me, and loaded me into an ambulance.  Again, I prayed to God for either relief or death as the ambulance screamed toward the hospital.  

Once at the hospital, I was given pain and muscle spasm relieving drugs through an IV, then taken back for an MRI.  The results showed a broken neck - one vertebra in my neck had completely collapsed when I sneezed.  The MRI also revealed the cause of my severe back pain:  several ribs were broken, some in the process of healing, some new.  The days that followed are a blur of medication, pain, and bad news.  

The cancer in my breast had already spread to my lymph nodes, liver, lungs, an ovary, and my bones.  The cancer in the bone was concentrated in my spine, ribs, and breastbone.  The cancer had eaten away the vertebra in my neck, causing it to collapse.  More damage threatened.  Ribs had been weakened in a similar way, causing them to break.  Cancer had also compromised my left hip. Only days after my broken neck, my hip could not bear my weight; I found myself both bed and wheelchair bound.  It was a surreal nightmare.  I was given 6 months to live.

Fortunately, a talented team of doctors at St. Alphonsus in Boise, Idaho, had a treatment plan that they hoped would buy me more time.  We began with radiation treatments to strengthen the bones in my neck and spine.  These treatments were miserable; the treatments by necessity had to include an area of the stomach near the spine.  This caused intense nausea.  Between the bone pain which was not entirely controlled by the medication, the nausea, and the complete lack of mobility, I felt half dead. In ten days I had lost 30 pounds.  After that ten days of radiation, I received a chemotherapy port by surgery.  This device would help the doctors deliver the chemo each week.  

In future posts, I'll provide more details of these days and those to come, but my purpose here is to provide you with an example of the idea that LIFE SUCKS.  But I would still agree with those who would not give away their negative experiences.  Would I erase the memory of those terrible days, hanging between life and death?  No.  They have made me who I am today and who I am today is better than who I was before I was sick.  

I maintain that life is difficult, but I now understand that these difficulties are not the barriers to life, they ARE LIFE.  They suck, but they don't have to.  That is, once we confront our struggles, whatever they are, with the idea that they are the building blocks of our lives, we can see them in a more positive light and learn to use them to make ourselves better people:  better at loving others, better at recognizing our blessings, better at understanding our connection to God, better at utilizing the Atonement of Jesus Christ, better at forgiving, better at being patient, the list could go on and on.  

In future posts I hope to provide/host more discussion about how faith is a necessary therapeutic component to bettering ourselves through trials and overcoming trials.