Some have noticed and asked why my writings as of late are about things that occurred many years ago – friendships made or tiny little ramblings, but no “current reveals”. My excuse is that my “current” is nothing to write home about and, frankly, I’m not great at “reveal”, either. That being said, here is my attempt.
I currently work only two days a week. The original plan was for me to spend the rest of my spare time getting my life packed and organized, and then be mobile, and then be reinstalled. It would be a huge undertaking, and likely emotional, but the payoff would be both amazing and completely and totally worth it. E-yep, that was the original plan … and what do we know about things that we plan? Exactly – they change. You can (and should) plan on it. Since that change, I’ve found that I’ve had a lot of spare time with very little “plan”.
Now, for those at home keeping score, you’ll recall that the average health of females in my extended family has left PLENTY to be desired these days. One would think that the amount of unexpected spare time I now have plus the health issues of my aunt, my cousin and myself would add up to be a bad equation. Ah, yes, that would USUALLY be a good assumption – but I have over three decades of employing a great “c” word to deal with these things … “compartmentalization”. So I have been able to be a fully-functional, highly effective, part-time employee to my company, even though I’ve slept in my own bed less than 8 times in the past two and a half weeks as I support my family the only way I know how. Those that work near to me have no clue about how I spend my down time – which is exactly how I like it to be. Actually, it’s how I NEED it to be.
There are those that would argue that compartmentalization is very close to running away – and I see that similarity, and it does not bother me. Not in the least. In spite of my participation in the Lewis & Clark last year, I’m no marathoner – but I am a fantastic runner. So, while I embrace the common health issues in my family, I find myself unable to apply that information … that diagnosis … that WORD … directly to me and my health situation … even though I walked down this road 20 years ago. So shoot me – I’m scared. Actually, that’s not truthful. I’m not scared – I am terrified. And my compartmentalization is starting to fail me, through no fault of my own. There be cracks in this armor in places where I noticed no previous weakness.
How do these cracks demonstrate themselves?
As a company representative, I had to attend a luncheon on Friday. I made sure that this event had NOTHING to do with anything “health” related, because that could wreck my whole “keeping the line between my personal and professional life” intact. The keynote speaker started her session with an inspiring story about how she took over the family business as her husband was about to succumb to … Cancer. I made it back my “big city” offices, where Scott and I wound up on the phone for close to an hour. It was a terrific (and much needed) conversation, and he never asked me point-blank what was going on and I never told him. In fact, I caught myself making sure that I didn’t say anything more descriptive than “sick” when it came to my own current health situation, which rather sounds like I have a cold.
While driving on the way home, I flipped down my sun visor and a small leather bracelet that is more than 30 years old fell into my lap. I made it when I was a child, for another child, and it is decorated with my astrological sign … Cancer. The letters waiting for me at home on Friday included requests for money from three different societies who spend their time and energy looking for various ways to research or treat or one day cure the many hundreds of known types of … Cancer.
On Saturday morning, after spending an amazing evening in my own bed with my own pillows, I watched a DVD of one of my favorite television series with the goal of “distraction”. The guest star was a VERY YOUNG Patrick Swayze playing a character who receives a surprising diagnosis of … Leukemia. Twenty seven years later Patrick Swayze is fighting … Pancreatic Cancer. Giving up on electronic means of distraction, I head to my favorite bookstore where I find a title that seems interesting - “We Disappear” - and the 21st word in the description of the story is … Cancer. I instead pick up a movie that I’d wanted to see when it was released and is now out on DVD. The lead character is raising his amazing daughters with a supportive but complicated family as he continues to recover from losing the love of his life four years prior to … Cancer.
Dammit - I never asked to be a poster child representative. I never wanted to be an expert. I never aspired to be the “go to” on what comes next down this hideous and thorny pathway. I’m not brave. I’m not strong. I’m not a saint. I have no desire to be anyone’s damn hero. This isn’t compassion … I’m just me doing what I can for my family while thrusting my head in the sand at the same time. I am avoiding my own health while entrenching myself in everyone else’s. The dance continues. My aunt is dying of Cancer – a little more each day – and I spend most of my nights by her side as she continues in her steady decline. My cousin is fighting her second round of Cancer. She visits the hospital daily for her own treatments as her strength slowly shows signs of returning while her mothers’ slips away.
Me? In a revolting replay of my life from 20 years past (a very nasty rerun, if you will) I recently had a friend walk away because of the current amount of drama in my life. This, at a time when friends seem too frightened to challenge me on the purposeful distance that I keep. Distance that I know is a side-effect from my compartmentalization, which I cannot give up. If I did, then I couldn’t say that I’m just “sick” anymore.
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3 comments:
I sometimes feel haunted by it too, cancer is EVERYFREAKINWHERE. It is possible we just notice it more because of the personal connection. I get pissed when I get the bi-annual letter from the treatment center wanting to know what I have done lately in my cancer treatment. I have called and asked them not to send them, they said they have to. I have tried marking them return to sender, no longer at this address, they just keep coming. I don't want to be reminded of it, I don't want to think about it coming back, but they won't let me be free of it. Bastards.
You totally nailed it ... "Haunted" is a perfect way of describing it (plus it is only an "a" away from "hunted").
I have had members in my family with cancer as well and I have had my own scare but snip snip and it is gone. I will it not to return. I just won't go there.
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