I was
speaking with my brother this weekend. He's the one I am heading to England to
see next week (NEXT WEEK!!!!). He has a friend there that is having difficulty
dealing with her own personal battle with cancer, and he has asked that I speak
with her. I am excited for the chance to meet with her, and hope that I can, in
some small way, help her.
In talking with my brother, I was expressing how hard it is for a cancer
patient to live life after a diagnosis, and how difficult it can be to have to
make some changes. It's not the large, life-changing things that most people
talk about. It's some of the smaller, less obvious things that have to change,
and that have an effect on your emotions. Things like having to check
"YES" next to the question on a form that inquires as to whether you
have had cancer. And then, having to fill that information out. It changes how
you view yourself, and it's certainly going to change how other people view
you.
Jim brought up a good point - it's not just the people that are dealing with
the cancer that are affected in these ways. It's the family of the cancer
survivors that are also affected. Now, my entire family has to check
"YES" in the space that indicates that a close family member has had
cancer. They are forced to answer the questions, forced to endure the testing,
all because of something that I had to go through.
I have mentioned before how I am dealing with some survivor guilt - it's the
gratefullness of being alive that fights with the question of why I was allowed
to live. And, along with that is knowing that my illness, my disease has had a
rather profound effect on my family. My parents have to live the rest of their
lives knowing that one of their kids had cancer. My brothers will have to live
with this. My kids will have to live with the knowledge that Mommy had cancer.
It's a frustrating feeling. You all know how proud I am to be a survivor - one
of my favorite moments of post-chemo-dome was at the luncheon on Friday. I was
looking at the table that had all of the name stickers on it, and there was
mine, standing out from everyone else's - "Michelle Hastings, Cancer
Survivor." (I don't think Cancer Ass-Kicker would have been
appropriate.)
Along with that pride comes a sense of shame. A sense of indignity. A sense of
failure. Did I do something along the way that made me sick? Did I give the
cancer the fuel to grow? What could I have done differently to make sure that I
wasn't a statistic? There's the sense of shame, in asking myself how I could
have put my family and friends through this? Why couldn't I remain a healthy
wife, mother, daughter, sister?
So, my conversation with my brother definitely gave me some food for thought.
While I have been so focused on how I am personally handling the emotions, the
feelings, the struggles, I have to ask myself - what have I done to make sure
my family is being taken care of emotionally? What have I done to make sure that
my friends and family are okay?
Have I been selfish? Is that okay? I don't know the answers. It's a tough
question to ask. As a patient, one of the first things that is drilled into
your head is that this is the time to take care of yourself. This is especially
true with mothers, because we tend to ignore our own needs to take care of
everyone else. And, it's pounded into our psyches over and over by everyone -
this is your time. This is time for YOU to take care of YOU, so that YOU are
around to take care of everyone else later on.
When does that point stop? It's a tough line to walk - I know I still need to
take care of me. I need to make sure that I take the time to allow my body to
heal, to allow my feelings and emotions to process. I need to make sure that I
provide my body with the tools it needs to beat the cancer. But, where do I
draw the line. I am a caring person - I want to take care of everyone. I want
to nurture my family and be the best mom I can be. I want to nurture my husband
and make sure that whatever time we have together is cherished. I want to spend
time and make memories with my parents, my brothers, and their families.
But, how do I help them through the cancer ordeal? Can I? How do I ask them -
hey - how are you doing, now that your daughter/sister has/had cancer? I know
that they are proud of me - I'm as sure of that as I am my kids names. But, I
wonder if I have done enough to take care of them. Did I ask enough questions
about their feelings? Did I think enough about how this was affecting
them?
I just don't know. I really just don't know.
Comments:
Although
it's on a completely different scale, it's something that we as the family have
to internalize and integrate into who we are. I may not have been able to come
home to see you when you were first diagnosed, but I've been over here
championing your cause as much as I possibly can.
Anyone I meet who is having issues, I ask them to please get it checked out.
There are talks about breast cancer or testicular cancer in schools, but no one
seems to mention the other things that could indicate an problem. I go out of
my way to pester people who are shrugging things off in order to get them to actually
go and speak to a doctor about it.
I'm sure we could have a really productive therapy sessions with each of us
sitting down and talking about how cancer has changed our lives. Although none
of us will have anything quite as drastic as you have, I'd wager pretty heavily
that we've all had some sort of change in mindset, outlook or behavior.
"Did we do something when she was younger that helped contribute to
this?"
"Should I have come home and helped her through everything so the burden
didn't fall solely on her husband and my parents?"
In the end what matters the most is something you've said over and over again.
We must all find our new normal, and recognize what goes into making it.
My sister is a cancer survivor, and I am incredibly proud of her. I am
incredibly proud that her friends rallied support around her so quickly. I am
incredibly proud that my parents were able to make such a drastic change in
their lives to provide direct support for her, even when it was difficult. I am
incredibly proud that my brothers were able to continue living their lives in
the midst of so many drastic changes and continue to improve themselves.
I can't say the experience was difficult for me, because almost all of my time
was spent thinking about how it was effecting YOU. But I think I can say that
we've all taken something important away from the experience that we'll carry
with us forever.
March
10, 2009 at 2:40 AM
Not
being a survivor myself, but being the parent of a survivor, I think what you
feel is absolutely normal and completely ok.
There are times when I wonder why Joshua was spared when I have to watch other
kids that I've come to love lose the battle. Don't get me wrong, I'm so
thankful my child is ok, but what about all those other parents? Why were they
chosen to endure the worst hardship EVER imaginable?
The only thing you can do is KNOW that there was a reason why you were spared.
I know Joshua's battle brought SO MANY people on their knees to God, praying
and begging that this small child would be ok. What more could I ask for?
Through my family's pain came SO MUCH GOOD.
Of course, hindsight is 20-20 and I'm not sure I was so confident of all of
this when we were walking down that path, but now, I can see the
"why". And yes, everyone who knows my child has been affected. But
mostly for good. And they have all adjusted to the "new normal" and
are more thankful than they were before.
I do know what you mean, though, about having the little things become big
things. Whenever I have to fill someone new in on Joshua's history, it's like
reliving it all over again... not necessarily in a bad way, but it's something
I will have to do for the rest of his life.
If you want to talk, feel free to get ahold of me :)
March
10, 2009 at 7:48 AM
Ah,
you don't know this about me but I am the most IMPATIENT person in the world! Yes,
that sign belongs to me. I am working on being patient. I need to work harder.
I absolutely HATE filling out papers or telling the nurse for the umpteenth
time what my history is. I mean, for godssakes, doesn't the computer you are
typing into save anything???
I check the cancer box and I check the surgery box but I am not for the one
millionth time going to write down all the surgeries I've ever had in my life
along with the dates, hospitals and who what where and why! That's in that dam
computer somewhere and you better go locate it because I am not telling you yet
AGAIN!
Ah, but I rant and I am trying so hard to be a patient and kind person so I
better run along and take my Zoloft before things get outta hand.
Thank goodness for cancer because I appreciate life now and am trying so hard
to be a good, kind and patient person. You should have seen me before. Well, no
you wouldn't have wanted to. :)
Did we do things to make ourselves have cancer? Heck no. Like I told my family
doctor who didn't want to sign off on the colonoscopy; shit happens, let's just
deal with it. Colon cancer runs in my family so I knew somewhere down the line
I would get it. My mom's baby sister, Wanda Jean, died at age 29 from Colon
cancer. If I hadn't have been diagnosed my sister, Kim, may have. She got her
colonoscopy checkup right away and had precancerous polyps removed.
I can honestly say I'm glad I got the cancer because I would NOT have wanted
anyone else in my family to get it. They might not have been as strong as I am.
I'm another ASS KICKER just like Michelle!
My mom stayed with me the entire 6 months I was undergoing Chemo. She said
there wasn't anywhere else in the world that she needed or wanted to be. I
thank my dad for letting her stay. I could not have gotten through it without
her. Cancer drew my mom and me closer together.
March
10, 2009 at 9:04 AM
