To Those Facing End of Life From Cancer

Mary Sansone is a two-time survivor of acute myeloid leukemia. Catch up on all of Mary's blogs here!

I am a survivor of acute myeloid leukemia. I now also serve as a Comfort Care Companion for those who are passing away from cancer and wish to have someone with them when family is not available.

We, survivors, often express our gratitude for life, love, support, research, advanced treatments, expert medical attention and more. We say we are blessed. We hope to be an inspiration to those who are newly diagnosed or in the active stages of treatment. Our blogs during the holidays are constantly touching on gratitude.

Yet, there are patients who do not experience positive outcomes from their treatment. Some are facing end of life. Sometimes all modern-day options are exhausted. I worry that some of these patients read our blogs and think, “Why am I not blessed? My treatment is not working.”

Everyone has different beliefs. I am no theologian or any kind of spiritual master, but I believe (or try really hard to believe) that life and death are both divine. I have no idea what is on the other side, but I hope that the soul transcends to nirvana. I hope that when we pass, we at least experience an otherworldly kind of peace. I’ve seen that peace during the vigils with end-of-life people.

I wish to share to those adults: some of you have done way more than me in your lifetime. I spent at least two decades under the spell of alcohol addiction. I did terrible things. I wasted golden opportunities. I didn’t even strive to live up to my potential. I was fired from jobs. I got divorced. I never had children. I went through a depression. Yes, I later had many decades filled with sobriety and joyous moments. Right now, I am well. But for long periods, I caused deep sorrow for myself and my loved ones.

Often, family members do show up at a vigil, and they passionately share memories and details about their loved one’s life. I feel gratitude that the person experienced so much richness and love.

I am consistently awed by the gentle nature of these patients. (I only use the word “patients” for comprehension; the dying person is so much more than a patient.) They are grateful for a hand. For Vaseline on their lips. For a lollipop of water. For a smile. Yes, many are medicated, but their breaths are precious. Holy even. Their outreached arms prepare for an embrace with a passed loved one. When family and loved ones are present, the air is rich with galactic love. Even if family is not around, both temporal and secular love abounds; the hospice care, medical staff and volunteers experience something powerful and divine. Everyone holds you in their hearts.

It is difficult to write about the end of life — especially during the holidays. The Mystery is unanswerable. I just wish to convey to those who are presently facing end of life, that your care will help others in the future. You are loved and will bring love to future generations through your experience. The world collectively wishes for your peace.

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