Don't notice me

I tend to be kind of an introvert, so maybe it's not surprising, but the weird thing about being diagnosed with cancer was the hard to navigate line between wanting to be taken care of and wanting everything to be completely normal.

I read several bloggers who let their bald heads proudly proclaim that cancer wasn't keeping them down.  I can appreciate that, but I reject the converse idea that wearing my awesomely realistic wig and not talking about cancer made me it's victim.  

I believe every woman who goes through this needs to do what she needs to do and for me, not being "that cancer girl" when I didn't need to be was something I needed.

In a lot of ways I was very lucky.  My insurance covered the wig (my state mandates that, I feel like maybe that isn't true nationally, but I'm not 100% sure) and I found the most comforting and talented wig seller (Mary Aframe at The Women's Image Center--if you're anywhere near central Massachusetts, I highly recommend giving her a call!) who helped me select a style and color that were just perfect.  Feeling comfortable about looking "normal" was important to me.

I told my coworkers I was having surgery (hell, I was out 7 weeks) but I only told my boss it was cancer until after the nodes were discovered to be positive and chemo was required.  I know this may seem odd, I understand that, but I just wanted as much of my normal life to be normal as possible.

I did tell my church family, and their prayers and meals were something I clung to.  My family and closer friends, of course, knew and especially my inlaws were incredibly helpful.  I definitely benefited from letting telling some people about it.

Maybe I'm just a wimp.  I never know how to respond to sympathy like that--do I put on a brave front?  Comment and say something that may end up being TMI?  Grin and bear it?  Because really, when I was dealing so much with cancer, the last thing I wanted to talk to people who weren't a) medical professionals or b) people who know and love me, was cancer.

I understand putting a living and surviving face on cancer may have been a great public service and an encouragement to others, but I just didn't feel like doing it.

Even a year later when I did a cancer walk with my husband and daughter, the big pink "survivor" sash felt odd and I didn't really know how to respond to the cheering "encouragers" along the course. It probably says plenty about my social anxiety and lack of reasonable interaction skills, but if I try to avoid uncomfortable situations on a good day, I guess I'm not too surprised about how I chose to deal when you throw cancer into then equation along with it!

If I had my wish, the cancer would have gone away--poof!  Wasn't possible (obviously!) so maybe having it gone away from large swaths off my life seemed like the next best thing.

It is weird, because now that I'm done with everything, I do sort of want a little credit.  I want people to understand what I went through and respect that.  But I only want it to be part off my identity to a certain point.

I don't say any of this to judge people who feel differently.  And I understand that people who act differently aren't judging me (or if they are, too bad, because I'm not getting it).  But I guess I feel the need to put my feelings out there and say, hey, there are all kinds of ways to deal with this and you can do what feels comfortable.  Goodness know there's enough discomfort going with it without pressuring yourself with more.