Showing posts with label feeling alone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feeling alone. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

OUR LADY WITH CANCER

It's Day 25 of the WEGO Health Activist Writer's Month Challenge and I'm to tell you a memory — but I have to write it in the third person. Here goes!

There is a woman, a very private woman (let's call her "Our Lady With Cancer") who felt oddly ignored during and after her breast cancer "experience." And it seems Our Lady With Cancer brought it all on herself. How so? In choosing not to tell everyone on earth about her diagnosis, she cut off a large lifeline of people that could have made her journey so much easier. 

You see, coming out publicly about having cancer is not in Our Lady With Cancer's blood. She is diligent about keeping references to her health off of Facebook. To her "friends" not in the know, they would never know what she is really going through. And that's the way she likes it. She continues to post pretty pictures and comment on others' FB posts, but she keeps the biggest secret of her life to herself — an attempt at controlling an uncontrollable beast.

She tells the people who need to know — the people she is closest to, her family, the folks she trusts. But she can't handle the thought of being talked about or rejected during this very vulnerable time. So she continues to keep "it" quiet.

She also tells a select few people who are large cogs in her social wheel... people she knows will get the word out. She doesn't want to have to say "I have cancer" too many times. She knows if she turns on the faucet, they will come to the trough.

So it comes as quite a shock when Our Lady With Cancer's pool of support slowly dries up in the weeks and months following her bilateral mastectomy. Though she doesn't talk about "it" on Facebook, she is still surprised when no one addresses her dance with cancer — publicly or privately.

Even members of her extended family are strangely silent. How can this be? She imagines how some would handle a cancer diagnosis — how it would be all they talked about, every detail dripping in drama, drama, drama.

Well, be careful what you wish for, Our Lady With Cancer: You never wanted too much attention, and so you never got it. Our Lady begins to question her worth as a friend, a family member, a patient, a human being in need. She struggles with asking for help when help has never been offered in the first place. The fear of rejection is stifling her vulnerability. 

One day she goes to lunch with a friend (who is also friends with one of the "cogs") and is shocked to learn said friend doesn't know she has cancer. WTF? Our Lady With Cancer emails another former friend — and finds that person similarly shocked. Turns out the cog has kept quiet — respecting the very privacy that is so beloved by Our Lady With Cancer. (Well, what do you know about that!)

Our Lady With Cancer attends a baby shower. The room is packed with people. She decides not to keep "it" a secret any longer. She will openly and gladly talk about her breast cancer experience with anyone at the party who asks. Yet, remarkably, no one does.

But this time, she is not silenced. Our Lady With Cancer brings "it" up. She shocks many in the room that day. Jaws drop left and right. She talks about her fears, her cancer, her reconstruction. In fact, cancer is all she talks about. When she leaves the party, it is with a newfound (and hard-won) freedom. And a lightness of being. An almost unbearable lightness of being.

Now Our Lady With Cancer mentions "it" whenever it is appropriate. On the hiking trail, she falls into conversation with another hiker and tells him she is recovering from breast cancer surgery; he in turn tells her about a close friend with breast cancer who just completed the Ironman. At a farmer's market, Our Lady With Cancer asks for help to her car because she cannot carry heavy bags after her double mastectomy; the woman helping her reveals her own battle with stomach cancer. 
Our Lady With Cancer is no longer afraid to talk about cancer. And she realizes an old school truth: People are not talking about her. They are not focused on her. They are focused on themselves.

After a friend is diagnosed, Our Lady With Cancer emails — expressing concern and revealing her own cancer. The woman writes back, "Yes, I know. I heard." Our Lady With Cancer understands that people do not always know what to say to people who have cancer. Especially private people who have cancer.






Saturday, October 1, 2011

THE HUNT FOR PINK OCTOBER

Exactly one year ago — October 1, 2010 — I had the mammogram that would alter everything. (It's sort of ironic that I found my cancer during the very month that has been hammered into our heads as the month to get a mammogram. So I guess that's the good news.)

Much has been written about the Hunt for Pink October, and prior to being diagnosed myself, I was blissfully unaware of how breast cancer survivors might feel about all this pinkification. My involvement in the surging sea of pink prior to my diagnosis was one of abject commercialism. In the world of women's consumer magazines (where I used to toil), the pages of each October issue were flush with pink products. We had to create 'thoughtful' stories structured around a breast cancer theme, drum up reasons to buy rose-colored, rhinestone-encrusted compacts, and entice readers to want to do downward dog on a pretty-in-pink yoga mat. It was all part of the job. We were providing a service (albeit a branded one) in which women not afflicted by the disease could in some way show their support (via the "percentage of proceeds donated") for those that were. And we were doing our best to educate the masses about breast cancer with our articles. But let's be honest: Advertisers loved seeing their "pink'd" items showcased on our pages — and that kept the wheels of profitability greased and spinning. 

Did I ever stop to think how "Pinktober" felt to a woman who actually had breast cancer? 

No.

Then I got diagnosed. Now I know. It sucks. Pinktober is just one ginormous reminder that I didn't dodge the bullet. And no pretty-in-pink yoga mat is gonna change my status now. 

(Copyright The Big C and Me)
Speaking of hues, who chose pink as the color of breast cancer anyway? 'cause I think they got it all wrong. Blue — now that's a color any survivor can wrap his or her head around. What BCer doesn't feel blue? Not all the time, of course, but I bet we feel blue more often than we feel pink. Yes? No?

You want to see real breast cancer pink? Check out a sistah post-surgery. No matter the color of our skin, our scars are the same: pink.

My one-year marker is the first of many dates I'll be noting in the coming months. The best place for me to reflect on these types of things is on the trail. We had a little rain today, and storm clouds were still swirling overhead, so after dinner, my husband and I went up into the mountains and were greeted by a rosy sunset of spectacular proportion. 

The Hunt for Pink October? I think I may have found it. In shades of blue and pink.