"It Is What It Is"

"It is what it is." Seriously, what does this mean? We all hear it. We see this saying everywhere. I say it on a pretty regular basis myself. As I try and put this into the context of my life and what is going on right now, it makes me feel and sound seriously delayed. Like DUH!

Here's what I mean.

"I think this is a most likely a mid-grade glioma." If I repeat said catch phrase, "Well, it is what it is." We still don't know what the heck IT is! You can look it up. It's potentially "brain cancer" although we've been told several times they don't use that term to describe what they are looking at on the MRI. It's a lesion. A brain lesion. A tumor. A glioma. What it is, is....A big, old, fat, stinking pain in the neck, or rather, head! It's a "cause for serious concern because it isn't holding tight. It's growing. It looks as though it's increased in size in the last 5 months. We will most likely need to react and remove what we can, biopsy the tissue to determine the grade of malignancy and treat the rest with radiation and chemo."

This was our latest neurology appointment. We made the 200 mile round trip drive to the neurosurgeon and again left with no definite answers, only more questions. There is no way to know if this is a benign tumor, or not, without surgery. The doctor presented Scott's case to the "tumor board" on Tuesday morning and called us with their recommendations. We will wait for another MRI  and one more appointment on the 5th of January to determine when or "if" surgery will be scheduled.

My emotions are mixed and it's hard to understand exactly where we are in this process from day to day, still. Scott says he is fine. And maybe he is.  I don't want to speak for him. I can only imagine how difficult this all is for him, because it's devastating to me.  He assures me he isn't going to die. "It's all going to be fine. This is just a hiccup and we'll get back to it soon as we can." He's awesome with telling me what I want to hear and helping me try to avoid "worrying too much."

On our way home, he literally turned and said to me, "I guess it is what it is."

"What the hell does that even mean?" I shouted with tears in my eyes.
He threw his hands in the air and confirmed, "I don't know!"
"Why do we even say that?" I sobbed.
 "I have no idea." He whispered.

There is nothing else to say when someone is right. So we rode in silence for long time. He reached over and held my hand and all I could think was, "It is what it is and I can't change this no matter how much I want to."

Giving up control, is not easy for a control freak like me. I want everything in my world,  at the very least, to have the appearance of being under control and well cared for. This is where I find comfort. Pretending all is well, even when I know it isn't. I do know how ironic and superficial this is. It is what it is.

There are many more hills to climb, more tears to shed, more anger to express, and the cycle of grief to live and re-live. I am no where near acceptance. I don't want this in my life, and more importantly I don't want this, AT ALL for Scott. Who in their right mind would choose this?  I am obviously not in control. No matter how sad, sorry, angry, frustrated, afraid, grief stricken, and hurt I am...it will not change the fact that there is a tumor of some sort, causing seizures and headaches, growing inside the man I love. And I can't do anything about it.

So I sit and contemplate how best to show my love and undying support. I take in as much positive psychology as I can. I practice courage. I practice being kind to myself and kind to my family. I practice patience. Notice I say "practice." That is the hardest part of all. Patience...has been an extremely hard lesson for me all my life. But I have come to understand the serenity of the things out my control and knowing that what I can't change, I must live with in one way or another. It's completely up to me to decide how to live with all of this.

I'm not good at pretending. So I don't usually do it. When I do try, I don't usually succeed. I'm a, wear my emotions on my sleeve, kind of gal. If you see me with a smile, it's because I genuinely have something to smile about. My heart is a bit more heavy today than it's been in awhile but I still find reasons to smile. Even if I have to pretend I'm not dying inside. I am not sure what IT is, exactly that will bring me comfort. I'm not sure what IT is that I need because what I want, I can't have.

It's impossible to know what to do because there isn't really anything to do.... but wait for the doctor to say what he thinks is the best course of action and then to see what Scott wants to do. I know he will do what he thinks is best. I really wish we could just do nothing and keep on going like everything is as fine as it appears. I'm completely okay, in this moment, to pretend and think I can get away with it.

A stupid brain tumor. That is what it is. I know I can't really pretend it's anything else. I've tried. I don't have any hard and fast answers for why, how to stop it, or change anything about it at this point.  Yes, there is a treatment. There is a glimmer of hope that we can beat this for good. So for now, what it is, is....we are holding on for the ride and doing our best to keep hunting for the kind of hope that will keep us from drowning in uncertainty.