Control.

Last nights therapy session focused on being able to identify things we can and cannot control. Hayden traced her hand on a piece of blank copy paper and we wrote five things on each finger that we could control. She can control how we respond to situations and other people, how we present our anger, how well we will perform on a vocabulary test, who we become friends with and what outfit we chose to wear. On the outside of the traced hand, we wrote things we could not control. She can not control the weather, whether or not her classmates follow the rules, other people’s emotions, and whether or not someone likes her. It was a fun activity that kept her pretty engaged. 

Easy-peasy. 

Elementary. 

Designed just for little minds. 

But, as I laid down that night I got to thinking about my sweet, best friend and her troubles she has been faced with lately. She hasn’t even been in remission for six months yet here she finds herself faced with possibly another cancer diagnosis. 

No one, and I mean no one, should have to re do their fight with cancer. 

Cancer is like a gigantic, over whelming mountain covered with ALL the elements (snow, ice, tsunami sized waves, tornados, hurricanes, quick sand, and volcanoes). We can’t climb the mountain for a cancer patient, no matter how willing we may be. Instead, we have to be spectators and we have to watch these victims tredge up this impossible journey. 

Though we cannot hike this mountain for them, we can do everything we can to equip them and their family for the journey. We can offer support by attending appointments with them, praying for them, and cheering for them. 

They cannot focus on anything else but the top of the mountain, but life continues to happen all around them. We can do all the things they cannot do while on this trek. This is extremely important for victims who are also a mother and have a family that is watching them conquer this scary endeavor. We can just show up to wash their laundry, cook meals, wash dishes, walk the dog, etc. 

Life doesn’t just stop. 

Schedules don’t just freeze. 

Offer to drive their child to practice or ballet.

Offer to help with that pesky science project. 

Cut the grass. Take the leaves. 

Do the things. 

Don’t ask. Just do it. 

Sometimes the journey uphill is so strenuous and so overwhelming that they don’t even have time to look around and notice what needs to be done. 

Do. The. Things. 

Sometimes they will reach the top. 

And sometimes they won’t. 

And that sucks. 

Never, ever let them climb that mountain alone. 

I saw my friend climb that mountain. I saw her and her family celebrate atop the highest mountain of hope. I saw them move on and get miles and miles ahead of that damn, monstrously morbid mountain with the view of that ugly son of a bitch in their rear view mirror.. 

And then she sits in front of me on my couch.. with tears in her eyes and tells me there is a large chance that there is another mountain on the horizon. 

Heartbroken. Angry.Frustrated. Pissed. Why? Why? Why? 
And then there is Hayden’s handprint on her “control and can’t control” chart.
I can’t control my friend’s cancer diagnosis. I can control how I react to her diagnosis and how hard I plan to fight on the bottom of that damned hill. 
Today I sit in the lobby of this waiting room with her by my side. They called her name as the doctor was ready to begin this procedure that would tell us if what we see, is in fact, another hellacious mountain, and I saw her in a totally different light as she walked away. 
She has more “gear” and better quality “hiking boots”.. she has more ensight on navigation and compass reading. She has done it before, and she’ll do it again. 
I can’t allow the things I cannot control detour me from doing the things I can control. I might not be able to climb the hill for me, but she knows I am controlling the things on the bottom.