On the best of days I'm okay with people knowing or asking questions about my cancer. On the worst of days I'm not and I find it extremely hard to pretend that I am. Last night was one of those days. We went out to meet an old friend and some of her friends none of whom we knew...most times I'll tell you about my cancer before you've had a chance to inquire, giving me ultimate control over the situation...last night wasn't one of those times and the thought of reconnecting with an old friend and meeting new ones consumed me. At times making me remote and distant, leaning towards inflicting displeasure on myself before someone beat me to it. Meeting people whether it be an old or new relationship after cancer, chemo, weight gain, and funky hair can be a bit daunting at times. My self-esteem is really suffering and for me that takes a toll on my normally funny/up-beat personality.
I was relieved to see that after meeting our friend she wasn't one of those people that immediately says, "ooh your hair is so cute" or "wow you picked up a little weight" So I spent the first half hour anticipating those dreaded comments of which I was prepared to smile, nod, and agree all the while wishing that everyone around me would just disappear. Time came and went and still no annoying comments. Our mutual friend then proceeded to talk about herself for the next hour! Finally the world didn't revolve around me and my troubles...I didn't have to talk about how I'm feeling, how I was diagnosed, when will I go back to work, or what I'll do next. I can't remember if she new about the cancer, but I know that if she did, someone did me a big favor by giving her temporary amnesia.
The mind game that cancer plays on you is taxing. It's something that you can't escape, something you have to learn to manuever around. A task that's easier said than done. I know that life will never be carefree for me again, but I'd like to get as close as I can to that feeling. Last night came close. We had a great dinner, scary haunted houses, and some salsa dancing to top the night off. I forgot about my hair, weight, and all that cancer has left me with or without.
5 comments:
Salsa dancing? You are indeed talented! :)
I know what you mean - sometimes we see 'monsters' that aren't there.
Its a fine line too. Sometimes I get upset with people for talking about my cancer - and sometimes I get upset for them NOT talking about my cancer... ;)
never happy are we? I'm the same! Sometimes I want everyone to pretend nothing happened, and other days I want to bash them for assuming I'm ok, and forgetting that, as yet, I'm not...quite...
Think it's us? Maybe we ought to have special message T-shirts - one to say: 'speak to me about it!' and the other to say: 'don't you DARE say a word!' ;o)
Kia, I saw your birthday pics on Facebook - you look lovely. And our hair is about the same size! [another thing we could have a T-shirt about...]
hair, cancer...grumble grumble...heh heh
Hi Kia. We are a neurotic lot, aren't we? Talk about my cancer...don't talk about my cancer. I know exactly what you and the other gals are talking about. Can't people read our minds? I feel like I am whining when I talk about my cancer. What's with that? Sigh...Have a great birthday on Sunday! Hugs.
It does get easier...I am 13 years cancer free. I thought I would never have a moment where it wasn't about me and MY cancer. But eventually it all settles down.
With that said...I did have an experience from hell - where I, like you, was ready for the "old" friend to say something about my hair or my weight. She had no idea that I had been sick. We stood on a street corner with another friend for almost 30 minutes. Not once did she ask about me...she talked and talked about herself. Just when I thought I was in the clear (my inner commentary was rapid)...she said "What's up with your hair?" and pulled my baseball cap off my head...THAT WAS ATTACHED TO MY WIG! She was shocked, I was shocked...she didn't know what to say! I said "I have cancer!" and snatched my hat back. Ummm - she never appologized and we never spoke again. Yep. At least I have a good story 13 years later. (And a rocking head of hair).
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