Around the time when my father in law was losing his battle with cancer, I was getting a lot of pressure from Katie and my mom to get a certain test done. I had been holding this test off for years because deep down I knew the answer. It was the uncertainty of my knowledge that kept me from giving me up at times and falling completely into self pity. As long as there was the slightest doubt in my mind, I could keep trudging through life with a certain innocence. Mothers being mothers and wives being wives, though, they convinced me to go have this test done. So after I had the test done and found out that I couldn't have kids, I was furious with Katie, with my mother and with God.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was diagnosed as a stage 5. That is the highest level and it is nearly always fatal. I was optimistically given a 1 in 5 chance to survive. At the time, the priority was on keeping me alive. The doctor pulled my mother aside and told her of the side effects. He said that if I were to survive, I would be smaller than average, I would most likely have diminished kidney function that may require dialysis or a transplant in the future, and due to the chemotherapy I probably wouldn't be able to have children. All that mattered to my mother was that I stay alive. She didn't care if I would only have part of one kidney remaining or that I might not be able to have children. She just wanted me alive.
When I pulled through the cancer and then surprised everyone by functioning normally, everybody was quick to tell me how lucky I was. My whole life I'd had people tell me that I was lucky to be alive. Perhaps. All I saw, though, was that I was smaller than everyone else. I have no real memory of surviving the cancer and the treatment, so it was hard to be grateful. When I found out that I couldn't have kids, it made things worse. That day I hated God for the first time since I had come to believe in him. When some privileged father of four children who never had to go through cancer and it's effects or had to deal with alcoholism told me how lucky I WAS, I wanted to go through the roof. In fairness, they were trying to be kind and helpful. To me, though, that type of ignorant patronizing was unforgivable. And it was worse to hear from people that 'You can adopt. DNA doesn't make you a father'. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. Katie wanted to have children. Even if it meant going to a sperm bank. To me, that was the epitome of not being understood. I was dying inside and here was my wife saying to me: my desire to bear children is so strong that I don't care if I bear somebody else's children.
A huge part of my pain in all of this was my ego. Real men get their wives pregnant. Real men do not have to have their wives go buy sperm to have kids. I could even have dealt with adoption, but that's not what Katie wanted. If I was to keep from living in self pity, I was going to have to redefine what a real man was to me. It would be nice to say that I went off into the woods and came back a man with an understanding of what a real man was. It would be more truthful to say that I stayed angry at God and Katie and my mother. I wallowed in self pity for months as my understanding slowly changed. I may never know what a real man is, but I know some things that a real man does or does not do: A real man accepts his limitations, however painful they may be. A real man does what's right for his family, even if it causes him pain. A real man makes mistakes, but learns from them; and a real man doesn't feel sorry for himself.
While I was slowly coming to an understanding of how the test results would affect my life, I managed to stay sober for a few weeks. One long 4th of July weekend I stayed home while Katie visited her sister in Sacramento. She was barely out the door when I left to go buy beer. I got home and was pretty drunk when I thought it would be a good idea to play some poker and blackjack online. I lost quite a bit of money and started drinking more and more. The rest of that day is pretty much a blur, but I remember the hangover well. It lasted the better part of 2 days. When Katie got back she was understandably upset. I set about getting sober again and went back to meetings. About two weeks later I interviewed at her brother's company. I'd been at the same job since the first time I sobered up, but was looking for a change. They gave me the job and I gave notice at my company.
At the end of July, 2006 I started working with Katie's brother. Football season was coming up soon, and we were looking forward to Redskins games. We bought tickets to see them play in a Monday night game to open the season. The game was scheduled for September 11th, 2006. 5 years after the towers came down. Security was heightened as we got on a plane the morning of Saturday the 9th. Just Katie's two brothers and me out to catch a little game of football....
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2 comments:
and, Real Men aren't afraid to lay it all out on the line for everyone to see. What makes a man isn't what other people think of them, it's what you think of yourself and whether you grow through life's challenges or let life pass you by while you wish it was different. You're "real" by me.
I think a sign of a real man is someone who can find genuine joy in life's simple pleasures... like the original NES for example.
I've also thought it takes a real man to question his masculinity. So I guess we're both ok.
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