Pushing the Limits
The other day when a friend suggested seeing The Peanut Butter Falcon, I said, “Alright, sure." But in the back of my mind, I worried that the indie movie- described as a “Mark Twain style adventure about a man (Zak) with Down syndrome”- might be a little heavy… I’ve already got more than enough emotional baggage.
Fortunately, it turned out to be a beautiful, uplifting story that left me in tears - the good kind. The gist of the plot is how Zak is actually very capable and ultimately thrives when he meets Shia LaBeuof’s character, who treats him like an equal as opposed to the rest of the world which focuses exclusively on Zak’s limitations. (Not trying to oversimplify, the movie is fantastic - great acting, well paced, funny. See it.)
Something about that theme of how too much coddling can be detrimental to development really hit home for me. Even as I walked out of the theater, I noticed myself leaning heavily on my cane, almost buying into the handicapped notion more than necessary. I immediately snapped out of it and straightened my posture which felt much better - physically and emotionally.
One of the most difficult parts of cancer is realizing you’re no longer in control. You have to rely on others and maintaining the proper ratio of independence to reliance can be a tricky balance because it’s often changing. It wasn’t long ago I hit rock bottom and needed all the support I could get. And while the situation has improved recently, I still require assistance from family, friends and especially my wife.
Every night after leaving work, Kori calls to ask if I need her to pick up anything or what she can make for dinner. She happens to be way better in the kitchen than I am but it’s more because she worries about me. Ever since the diagnosis, we’ve been in survival mode and “our” world has revolved around taking care of my needs. It’s had to be; the last thing either of us wanted was to lose one another. Meanwhile, she’s been fighting alongside me with two full time jobs at once- helping me at home while also holding down an extremely demanding career.
I may get most of the attention as the cancer fighter but Kori’s gone through the ringer just as much as I have and sacrificed everything for our love. Now that I’m slowly regaining my strength it’s time to start holding my own again. Yes, she’s been my caretaker, but first and foremost Kori is my wife and I’m her husband. We made vows to each other and I want to love, support and protect her even though I’m not the same Steve she signed up for.
My body, job and health may have changed but cancer didn’t spread to my soul. It would be easy to write myself off after life went crashing off the rails. The rest of the world would understand. But I’ve still got that fire in my eyes, and The Peanut Butter Falcon served as an important reminder to not let any limitations define me. I owe it to Kori as much as I owe it to myself.
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