Desperately Seeking:Someone who will let me say I am scared about what might be. That this disease freaks the crap out of me. Someone who will let me not be tough for a few minutes, but break down and cry about my anxieties.
There is so much pressure on cancer patients to stay cheerful and only focus on the positive. I think this is overrated and can stifle the process of coming to terms with this terrible disease.
"You can beat cancer with a positive attitude!" Bah! I wish that were true...but it isn't. If it were true, we wouldn't have lost so many people we love to cancer. On the contrary, it is perfectly natural- even healthy- to imagine various possibilities of what could be. Have you ever really watched children play? If you have, you would notice that they act out "scary" scenarios as way of understanding the world. Sometimes, my little two will play like one of them has died in a terrible accident. The other one acts out the whole sad, devastated scene. This is their way of learning about death and scary situations.
Few adults play-act these kind of scenarios as expressively as children, but we still run them through our minds. How many times have you mentally rehearsed a difficult situation in your head before having it? How often have you played out "what if" scenarios in your mind? We instinctively know that these rehearsals help us feel ready to deal with challenging situations.
I understand the impetus from well-meaning friends who interrupt with "don't say that, just stay positive!" when you talk about fears about what may come to pass in your cancer treatment and the progression of your disease. They don't seem to understand that speaking about these anxieties is a means of release. The patient ends up feeling like she always has to act happy and fine all the time, and stifles the desperate need to talk through all of this. Unfortunately, oftentimes caregivers feel the same responsibility to put on a happy face around their loved one with cancer, lest they bring him down or pierce the bubble of positivity. It ends up becoming a farce-like scenario you might read in a "Missed Connections" ad, where both people are looking for the same thing and don't realize it is right in front of them.
I have two phenomenal caregivers in my husband and my mother. And while they are the ones who often bring me up when I am feeling blue, I cherish the conversations we have where we let each other know how fucking terrifying this is.
Of course, this goes far beyond cancer. How often do we hide what truly bothers us, pushing aside what we really want to say or do because we are afraid of how others will react? I say, go for it! Speak about it. Be bold. You may find that you are less alone than you think, and you can laugh together rather than crying alone.
As a cancer patient, I ride a see-saw between hope and acceptance, especially since I am still waiting on all of the details. There are some days when I feel almost normal, where cancer takes a back seat and it is easy to hope that this could go on for some time. Then, of course, there are days that the knowledge of what I am facing leaps into my face and and refuses to be ignored. The unrelenting nature of lung cancer can feel just enormous. Fight as we may, our "war" does not have a clear victory at the end. This is a marathon that lasts a lifetime and the finish line is six feet under.
Yeah...acceptance.
I am well aware that everyone's case is different, but hope softens the crash of acceptance. Perhaps there is a way to get that see-saw to balance acceptance of lung cancer with hope for more time here on Earth. I strive to find that equilibrium.
Love and Stuff,
Shanna <3
No comments:
Post a Comment