Cancer, you're doing it wrong (or, can't please everyone)

Eric Gill -  The Last Judgement

Recently, there was a post in an alumni e-group I subscribe to from someone whose father was just diagnosed with stage IV cancer.  I don't remember they cancer type, but it obviously wasn't good.  Because cancer.

In his shock and grief, one of the things the alumni son worried about was whether his dad was being too optimistic, too naive about his future.  Someone else responded that when her dad had had lower stage cancer, she was concerned because he wasn't optimistic enough.  Other people posted supportive messages about how important optimism is in fighting cancer and that the son should encourage his father to be more optimistic.

I've never been in that son's place (my own parents are in good health and my inlaws are doing pretty well, too).  And I understand that as a loving son, he's worried and looking for perspective, trying to figure out this new landscape and trying to find ways to sort it all out.  Cancer can be a game changer, no lie.  But as a cancer patient, what I tried to say gently was that I don't think the correct level of optimism is up to anyone else to determine.  It belongs to the patient.  No one else.

I believe what I said is true, but even believing it to be true, what I left unsaid is that living up to that truth, protecting your right to react to cancer your own way, can be really hard to do.  People love you and just want to help. A lot of the time the intentions are really good. And in the face of all that helpfulness, not doing what people want you to can feel kind of churlish.

I was raised to be accommodating.  To not rock the boat.  To believe that putting my own feelings ahead of what other people want was selfish.  And sometimes it is.  But cancer is one of those things that knocks your life around.  It asks hard questions.  It gives you awareness that there probably won't be enough time later to do the things you've been putting off and that you may need to lay some groundwork faster than you wanted to and might not get to see how it all works out.  Cancer, after the initial shocks, can be a fairly loud voice telling you to focus on certain things now, while you can.

I'm lucky that my husband is the one most often telling me that it's ok to do things that are important to me, even if they don't meet everyone else's expectations.  That helps a lot.

But, in other contexts, making choices about how I spend my time or how much effort I want to put into things, making choices about the choices I make, choosing to avoid situations that upset me or hurt my feelings, or choosing how I express how I feel even if it's not very optimistic--sometime these kinds of things aren't met with rounds of cheering and applause.  Sometimes people are miffed. Sometimes they think I'm just plain "doing it wrong."  Sometimes they act like I'm "not playing right." Plus, I make my share of actual bad decisions, so sometimes my choices really are dumb and I really am doing it wrong and I probably am "not playing right."  There's all of that rolled together into the experience.

And it can really stink. And it's stressful. And feels a lot like guilt. And sometimes that's not even an accident.

But, making these choices with the time I have (whatever that turns out to be) also feels very, very important.

I understand people have the right to respond however they choose, but I hope they will at least try to be gentle with me.

If you're someone who's miffed or whose expectations I'm not meeting, if it seems to you like I'm doing cancer with the wrong attitude or not being enough of whatever you think I should be, I'm sorry you feel that way, but I hope you try to understand.

I'm doing the best I can to do this in the best way I can.  Which is sometimes hard in ways I know other people may not really even understand.

Which, when you think about it, is probably not even a cancer thing, at all, but mostly just part of being human in the world (possibly a bit amped up by the cancer situation).  Living can be hard.  Dealing with expectations can be hard.  Trying to do the right thing can be hard, even when there's no cancer involved at all.  And I believe there are some some absolutes of right and wrong, but for many things doing it right is really in the eye of the beholder.  But with God's grace I'm trying to keep my eyes clear and focus on the things before me, and, hopefully, put my time towards all good things.  I know I won't always succeed, but at this point I know I really need to try.


P.S.  Don't worry, my top priorities are my husband and the kids in our life, so no major life changes here--I don't want anyone to think this is a manifesto about how I'm about to get all Shirley Valentine on you all;  it isn't, I promise  :)

P.P.S. I'm not really talking about decisions that run counter to medical advice, which I could see being a legitimate concern to people who care about me.  I'm actually a total doobee when it comes to my medical care.

And, final note:  I know I've been posting weirdly introspective posts lately.  Cancer has its ups and downs, but I doubt this blog is going to be this mucky for too long.  At least I hope not.