Cancer: The "Gift" that Keeps on Giving

Please notice that "gift" in the title has quotation marks around it, to signify sarcasm.   I do not,  nor have I ever,  believed that cancer was a gift (yes,  people have actually said this about their own cancer).   Cancer is a nasty ass disease that takes and takes and takes.   Four years after diagnosis,  and it's still taking.  I wrote a blog post about two years ago that touched on the subject: The Cost of Cancer.  Those things were anticipated, expected.  But this time,  it's gone too far.

You may know that my family and I have season tickets to the Redskins games.   You may have heard me tell the story about how my father camped out overnight at Griffith Stadium for those tickets,  before I was born.  Those tickets have been in our family for over 54 years.  When my dad got sick, he had the tickets transferred into my name, because I was the youngest daughter, and because he knew he could trust me to see them distributed fairly, as they had always been (not that he didn't trust my sisters; I think it was mostly because I was the youngest, and I still lived at home at the time).  I did my best.  Each year, family members have had the opportunity to buy the tickets.  For the past few years, though, it was difficult to sell some of the tickets.  After I received my terminal diagnosis, I transferred the tickets into the name of my oldest son, who was close to turning 18 at the time.

I do understand that things change.  Up until a few years ago, the Redskins were able to boast about a sell-out crowd for as long as I can remember.  Those tickets were hard to come by, and easy to sell should we need to.  A few years ago, that changed.  Tickets are now being sold at the box office on gameday, some for less than what we pay for season tickets.  I myself haven't been to a game in years.  I just can't.  That's a whole 'nother blog post....

So, here's the latest thing that cancer has taken away:  my family's Redskins season tickets.  Why am I so upset about it?  After all, I haven't been to a game in years.  Let me try to explain:

• I feel like I've failed my family.  These tickets have been in my family for so long, entrusted to me.  My dad put them in my name; I put them in my son's name; he should be putting them in his future child's name in twenty years or so, and so on.  Now, because we can't afford the $3000 price tag, we've had to give them up.  I feel that I've failed my parents, as they entrusted this to me.  I feel that I've failed my sisters and their families.  Those tickets were my responsibility, to be handed down from generation to generation, and now they're gone.

• That leads me to sentimental value.  I won't say anything more; I think I would just be repeating what I said above.

• Just as a pregnant woman "nests" (gets ready for her new baby), I feel as though a dying person does a similar thing.   You've heard of people getting their affairs in order.  I think it goes deeper than that.  Or, I guess in my case, just last longer/is spread out more.  I've done a few things -- I've given away a yarn stash that I realized I wouldn't be able to use in my lifetime; I am trying to sell off things imporant to me (to pay the bills); I'm downsizing in general (I don't want my family to have too much to go through after I die).  I feel that giving up the rights to these season tickets is just one more "You're dying.  You don't need them anymore.  I'm CANCER and I've come to take away everything dear to you."

My son has heen paying for them since my diagnosis, but can't anymore, as he's helping us more and more with medical bills.  Yes, I checked with my sisters (who checked with their children) before the decision was made.  Nobody wants to take them over.  They all live too far away, and haven't been to games in years, either. 

So tonight I grieve over a family tradition lost to cancer.  And tomorrow, I'll get up and go to work with my usual smile on my face.  Yes, I know I'll get over it, that it's really not that important in the grand scheme of things.   It's just really shitty.