Talk about it

This cancer stuff is tiring.  It's not just the physical aspect of fighting off all those rogue cells and surviving the treatments, both chemotherapy and radiation, that drag your energy down.  There's also the subtle but constant emotional tax of facing your own mortality that saps energy too, and if you're like me, the uncertainty of whether you're going to outlive your new car's warranty takes its toll too.

There's not much you can do for the physical strain; it's part of the territory.  You CAN do a little something about the emotional part though.

Talk.

I know, you don't want to bring everybody down by whining about your stupid ol' cancer.  Think how lucky you are!  You're getting helped!  New drugs!  New treatments!  Things are a lot better now than they were even 10 years ago!

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you're thinking: "It's not fair!!  I didn't smoke (or drink, or get sunburned, or didn't eat meat or...  Pick your virtue.) and HE did, and I have cancer and HE doesn't!"   Or you're thinking "Phooey!  Self pity isn't going to do any good, so let's just can it right here and be happy and upbeat!"  That's a dandy attitude to have and personally, given the choice between that and feeling sorry for myself, I'll choose upbeat pretty much all the time.

A thought about being upbeat:  I know there are lots of plucky individuals on TV and in the newspapers who are always a-smilin' and never seem to have a bad day.  There's no way in the world that you're going to convince me that they're like that all the time.  I'm sure they have bad days too, days when they just get tired and wonder if it's all worth it.  They wouldn't be human if they didn't.  If they can have bad days, why shouldn't you?

So what do you do?  It takes work, and we already know we're tired from this disease and treatments, and you've got a bratty kid, and the shower leaked soaking the carpet and gas prices keep going up.  Where does the energy come from?

Other people.

I found this out when I dropped the bomb at work that I'd have an erratic schedule because of chemo and radiation treatments.  Everyone's jaw hit the floor pretty much at the same time, because I hadn't mentioned anything about cancer with a big C.  Sure, everyone knew I was constantly at the dermatologist having SCCs and BCCs cut out, but that was cancer with a small C.  I turned it into a joke because I knew that the mortality rate for these cancers was practically nil, so I could afford to joke about it.  But MCC is cancer with a big C, something no one has a good idea about, something rare, something you could die of.

So after I dropped the bomb, I started getting emails (we IT people never talk directly to each other, we use email and instant messages and blackberries, even if we're sitting right next to each other) from my friends about how sorry they were to hear the news, that if there's anything they can do for me... and so on.

And it felt good.  I think the psychologists call it "validation", meaning that what we are and what we're feeling is real and proper, that we have a spot on this planet that cannot be filled by anyone else in the universe, a spot that will never be replaced by anyone else, even after were gone.

It's going to be up to you to broach the subject.  My method of dropping the bomb may not the best way, but I couldn't think of any other way to do it (You: "Mornin' Paul, how's it going?", Me: "I have cancer.") but the important part is that it gets done.

And (this is important): you must talk back.  Tell them that you appreciate their thoughts and concerns.  Tell them that you don't know what's going to happen.  Tell them that you're scared.  This lets them know that there's a human being out there.  No one wants to help superman, because superman has it all under control, we'll just get in his way.  By letting them know that you are in no way related to superman, you give them permission to help.

This is important too:  Believe what they're telling you.  They are sorry it's happening to you.  They are willing to help with anything you need.  They do care about what happens.

I had trouble for the longest time with this.  I was afflicted with a very responsible upbringing and was taught to be reliable, conscientious, productive and self-sufficient.  Nothing wrong with those virtues unless they're taken to an extreme.  The first chink in that armor came with the first kidney transplant and dialysis, keeping me from being fully self sufficient.  I managed to overcome that by becoming ultra productive, after all, I had to be worth all the effort and electricity and medicine and stuff that kept me alive!  You may be burdened by other equally unrealistic (and stupid) beliefs, but whatever they are, don't let them get in the way of accepting help from others.  It took me the longest time to believe that someone might think me of value simply because I was a nice guy. 

I was talking to Mike at work the other day warning that I had absolutely no idea of what my chemo and radiation schedule the next couple of months was going to be.  He said "Yeah, I know.  I have a friend who's halfway through chemo and radiation now."  That felt so good to hear!  Not that I was happy that someone else was afflicted, but that here was someone within arms reach that had an idea of what lay ahead for me.

So talk about what's happening to you.  I'll bet there are more people than you know who want to listen.