Tuesday, June 19, 2012

why waiting to talk to The Cancer Team is hard

A month ago we were laying bed deliberating if we should spend a few weeks driving across the country or vacationing in the Maldives, spending restful days in thatch hotels on stilts in cerulean water. Last night we lay in bed talking about what scares us most about cancer.

"Let's just go on vacation," I said. "The cancer will still be here when we get back." He didn't laugh; it wasn't funny.

Ten of the Scariest Things:

10. What if this is all very minor and over quickly and it turns out I'm being melodramatic and scaring people I care about for no good reason? 

9. Maybe I'm not being rational or tough enough and I lack the appropriate business-like attitude to keep track of the bills and appointments and treatments and options and medications. For example, I have never updated my license plate tags on time and I guess at my taxes. 

8. Maybe we will run out of money and we will feel the consequences of this and the crappy economy in which I am struggling to find full-time work that uses my degree forever and my husband will put off his ambitions because of me. 

7. The mri scans are disconcerting and I have to go in today for another ultrasound and maybe another biopsy (though from the way the nurse was talking, I strongly suspect that by "maybe" she meant "certainly") and biopsies make my whole body get the weak-wrist feeling.

6. Cancer is a big burden to everyone around me. 

5. Maybe they'll cut off my breast and it will be painful and maybe it will turn out that I am shallow and not strong. 

4.  If I have chemotherapy my hair will fall out and my mouth and insides will hurt and my body will turn into a billboard announcing, I HAVE CANCER! to the whole world.  

3. If I have to have reconstructive surgery and/or treatments, it could interfere with my ability to start work in the Fall which really mucks up the plans the husband and I have made.

2. If I have chemotherapy I will instantly go through menopause which could make me infertile and we may not be able to postpone treatment for long enough to have eggs harvested so maybe I'll never get to be pregnant or give birth to a big-headed beautiful baby that I made with the love of my life. 

1. I don't know anything yet.

I will make a list of things I am happy about and grateful for later, but right now I'm feeling much more frightened than gracious. I'm trying to channel my friend Sarah, who is the most gracious person I've ever met, but it's not working, and sometimes I think I'm allowed to feel like this.


4 comments:

  1. oh god, cancer's no burden on us. i'm totally GLAD you have cancer, as a matter of fact, just so i can finally give you a fraction of the crazy generosity that you've shown me the past few years. NO not really, but truly you have given such extraordinary generosity and care to everyone in your life, no one is going to feel anything but glad to repay some of that by helpin you through however we can.
    also, there's nothing to feel thankful about with cancer. i'd be feeling pissed and un-grateful all day long, in fact. i DO think one silver lining is that it will bring our crew back together really strong, which i think is high time that happened and that we could all use, in different ways. still, it mostly just sucks balls. no sense in pretending otherwise. it WOULD suck incredibly hard to lose a breast, and suck so heartbreakingly major to go through menopause (i did not know that!). it all just blows and is really scary too. that's not being weak, that's being real.

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  2. I think you'll feel every single emotion ever felt by human beings ever. I think it's okay to feel weak and scared and pissed off. You are the kindest person, ever, and YOU consoled ME when you told me. I hate cancer, and I hate that you have it. I have grand plans of showering you with love, and I will (along with everyone else, of course) be right there for you any way this plays out. Thank you for being honest, and sharing this list.

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  3. Be scared and mad and anything but gracious. I can see no reason why you should be gracious. Cancer doesn't deserve your grace. It's an uninvited guest and an asshole. But, of course, since you're you, you're looking for grace. Don't worry about that. It's in you. Grace is your nature. Don't waste it on cancer.

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