When I was diagnosed, my doctor cried and I consoled her.  I wasn’t shocked I had cancer since I was told, at the age of 18, that I had precancerous cells that would turn to cancer - it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ I would have cancer but when.  When I was diagnosed I told my doctor then that she was telling my brain what my body already knew.  And then I went outside and watched the sun rise.  That December 22 was as beautiful a day as any other and I took the time to enjoy it.  My doctor phoned at 8pm on December 27.  She confirmed her diagnoses from a few days before, told me I had an aggressive form of cancer and asked did my family know this was likely the last holiday they would have with me… I assured her I would beat the cancer because any other choice was not an option for me.  And then people I knew started dying of cancer.  And for me, survivor’s guilt set in.  And so did debilitating depression.

I waited until a week before surgery before I told anyone the reason why I had to have it.  Do you know the most difficult part of being diagnosed with a grim prospect?  The reaction from other people.  They either cry and require comfort.  Or they say, “You’re strong, you’ve got this!”  Trust me, if I was as strong as you think, I wouldn’t be talking about it with you.  Sharing the burden makes me less afraid and I am better able to cope.  Having to comfort you, forces me to use up my energy reserves and leaves me utterly exhausted.  I don’t need to comfort you, for once I need you to comfort me.  I need your support, not in a pitiful way, but in a way where I feel strong from your presence and actions.  Your words sap my strength and make me feel emotional and foolish.  This is what happened with my friend and it’s why she reached out this me.  She knew I would understand.  Because when her twin sister and family found out what she was going through, my friend was pretty much abandoned by all of them.

My friend is a beautiful woman from the inside out.  Her battle has been really difficult for her twin sister who has had a rough time facing mortality.  I guess she thought the two of them were invincible and cancer reminded her they’re human.  They get cut and they bleed. Their cells rapidly multiply, they can get sick and die.  None of us are immune.  But for my friend, her twin sister’s reaction meant she used a lot of energy keeping her sister from collapsing in a mental breakdown (envision sister on the floor, snot dripping from nose, tears running unchecked down her cheeks, hugging herself and rocking back and forth wailing to the heavens, “WHY, LORD? Why ME??? Haven’t I proved my faith to you, you’ve got to test me some more?” Rocks her body some more, hiding her face in the crook of her arm then whips her head up to face the heavens as a booger strand clings from her arm to her nose. She ignores it and it snaps as she loudly wails then lifts her fist toward the heavens yelling, “Cancer? Cancer!?!  That’s what I have to contend with?” Shaking her finger wildly in the air to  emphasize her point before pounding her fist painfully against her heart she laments, “There ain’t nobody who has ever beat cancer in our family.  Why are you doing THIS to ME?  Why, Lord?  Why are you TESTING me? Sometimes I hate you!”  Then she loudly sobs, hiding her face in her arms as she rocks back and forth, shrugging everybody off when they come to comfort her.

And my friend who has cancer?  Everyone forgets about her and focus on the squeaky wheel. cancer isn’t happening to the drama queen sister; it’s happening to the stoic, brave, courageous woman who is fighting for her life, silent and alone.  She’s afraid but she’s fearless as she goes through treatment everyday, praying and building her faith with God and never once asking Him, “Why me?”  It’s amazing these two women developed from the same egg, identical on the outside and polar opposite from the inside out…. And though I have no doubt my friend is going to be fine, I’m sending her ridiculously sappy messages almost daily and silly cartoons weekly to keep her spirits up.  Why am I doing this?  Because cancer taught me life is too short and everything can turn on a dime.  From my day of diagnosis until last Friday… I know thirty-one people who have died of cancer.  Thirty-one.  There’s no vaccine for cancer though - is it because it’s a silent world pandemic? Or simply that it’s not contagious enough?  My cancer is genetic.  Many cancers are environmental, such as lung cancer if one smokes.  And other cancers are completely random.  Through them all one thing remains the same, no matter how strong someone may appear to be, chances are they are not.  The person one is before cancer is completely different from who they are during and after the fight to beat it.  If you don’t know what to say to someone who is fighting, just tell them, “I have no words but I’d like to sit with you anyway.”  Sit in silence, play cards, look for new recipes to try on your next visit (where you will cook and your friend will drink wine and you’ll laugh, and live and build memories - no matter how terminal the diagnosis.). I was told I would be dead within a year.  My surgery was three years and four months ago.  Last Friday my cancer Doctor and I shared our last visit.  I no longer need to do a follow up to ensure I’m cancer free.  In two years, I’m considered a survivor.  It’s bitter sweet for me.  I struggle with how it is I survived when so many incredible people I know died as I strove to grasp the metal ring to recovery.  And now I’m able to help others focus on their recovery by staying positive and using laughter to heal.  I have always maintained cancer can’t grow where there is light.  So I kept the darkness at bay during my recovery.  But there has been a lot I didn’t deal with and I notice the anger is always brewing inside of me, just underneath the surface.  And I really feel the slow boil turn to a quick , heated burn when someone tells me, “You’re strong, you’ve got this.”  And I interpret your words to mean, “I’m too weak, I can’t handle this… exit, stage left!”  I’ve lost many friends who’ve never returned since I was diagnosed.  I’ve been slandered, gossiped about and have been told I’m “crying wolf” as far as my health goes.  I have no words for that but I would like to see specific examples of when I’ve done that.  It should be both enlightening and entertaining.  

I guess what I’m saying is, even as we open our borders and let down our guard … as we open up our socializing with one another more, we are going to be sharing our COVID survivor stories with one another.  Please choose your words of support carefully.  Don’t inadvertently slap one another down by using words or phrases that compromise the extent of trauma a person has lived through.  For all you know, the person sharing their story is feeling weak and a bit defeated - they’re sharing as a way to fill up their reserves and lift their spirits.  Now that COVID is losing its grip on humanity it’s time for another kind of hero to step forward.  One that can listen, encourage, motivate and strive to help people accentuate the positive while we relearn how to keep life real.  And we can do that without compromising ourselves or by focusing attention on ourselves rather than on the person who needs the support.  As we learn how to navigate this new normal…

Take care and have a great week, everyone.