I noticed something over the weekend that I find somewhat disturbing--not necessarily in a really bad way, but it got me thinking. I don't mean anything negative towards anyone. I suspect that it's how some people deal with it. I'm just truly curious.
Some people treat me somewhat differently now that they know I have cancer. People have said things to me that I'm not sure they would have said if they didn't know I have cancer. It's almost like I'm perceived to be special because of the disease that I have. I absolutely know that people are speaking from the heart and are sincere. And I appreciate the thoughts and sentiments enormously. I'm happy that people have been reading the blog and that they haven't turned away from me. I'm enjoying connecting with people in a somewhat different way.
The only analogy I can come up with is this. For many months after my brother Eric died accidentally at age 19, I kind of thought of him as a perfect brother. Not conciously, but it seemed sort of sacreligious to think anything negative about him, since he was dead. Eventually I had an emotional breakthrough where I could no longer deny that we had had drama between us, that he was sometimes emotionally cruel to me, that we went a long time when I was in college where by some unspoken acknowledgement we had agreed to just steer clear of each other. It wasn't until then that I truly dealt with his death. It brought me peace.
Maybe it helps people to deal with something that scares them, to treat a person in a more special way. I'm still the same person I was a month ago. I have something major to deal with, and I'm trying to do that to the best of my ability. I have a new appreciation for what is important in life and what is not. I've mended a couple of relationships that needed a little help. That feels good.
I don't really feel like I'm communicating this very well. Maybe someone else can shed some light on it. Am I reading something into this that isn't really there? I'm not sure. I just want people to know that I'm still me--warts and all. I've learned a lot from my mistakes in the past and I think I've grown as a person over the years. I hope I continue to do that.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
10 comments:
Jane, you're right. People are treating you differently now that you have cancer. I think you've nailed all the reasons. I think that now people may stop and think, OMG, I don't have much time with her now. I'd better make every minute count. Why? Out of guilt that you have cancer and they don't? Of course, I'm speaking in generalities right now. I don't know that.
Now that I've been told that my last day at work is June 16, people treat me differently too. They're somber, they don't quite know what to say, etc. There is a huge difference between getting told you're being laid off and getting told you have cancer. I'm not minimizing the difference at all. But it's irritating, isn't it?
Too bad we don't treat everyone the same way all the time, by letting them know how special they are to us. And not in the I may never see this person again, so I want to show him/her how much s/he means to me so when the time comes that s/he leaves us, I'll feel better that I didn't neglect/think bad things about/fight with him or her kind of way.
So I'm trying to let people know how much they mean to me, how much I appreciate them, every day. And I love to hear that I'm special to others as well.
It shouldn't take cancer to make us appreciate our friends and family.
I can't agree more with both "Am I special" comments. I'm selfish. One of the reasons I read your blog is to learn more about how I can do things better. You are truly an inspiration. If only the comments section had spell check!
LB
“Am I special?” Short answer: Yes.
I don’t know that I agree with all the suppositions that have/will come in response to your blog, but I don’t discount them either. Having gone through a few health issues of my own, I’ve asked myself similar questions. My thoughts:
You are special.
Now people are exploring what you mean to them. They feel a strong need to let you know what you mean to them, to let you know that the possibility of losing you is upsetting.
Yes, I said losing you. Because you’ve embarked on a journey of self-discovery that most of us believe is a long way off. You’re showing us (a painful reminder of what we all know, but often refuse to admit) that we really have little choice of when we take this trip. And it can be a frightening realization.
Regardless of how it turns out, we’ve all lost the Jane who was here at the beginning of the year. You are changing. You are far more introspective than before. You are asking yourself, your doctors, your husband-to-be, your family and friends, your God, the tough questions that you have. And you’re sharing them with us. And with the world. You’re making us change.
Change is hard. The hardest part is making the decision to change; but sometimes that decision is thrust upon us and we have no choice. Sometimes that’s easier; sometimes it’s harder. And damn it, Jane, you’re forcing us to change. Just as this came out of nowhere for you, it did for all of us too.
People have a hard time figuring out how to feel, how to respond, and it shows. I know it’s hard to hear the words, to see the looks, and know that people are treating you differently. But you are different. And now, so are we.
Can you imagine how hard it would be if you could tell no one; if you had to keep this all locked in? Lucky for you, and for us, that you have a medium to share this: It’s Jane’s travelogue. But it’s our journey too.
Forgive us our airsickness; forgive us for losing our land legs. It’s a bumpy ride. But we’re taking the trip. We won’t miss the boat. We won’t tear up the ticket.
Because you are special.
LL
WOW! These comments are powerful and awesome. Thank you all for teaching me. The journey is about continuing to learn and grow. You have helped me immensely. jr
Jane, I just spent a couple of hours yesterday with a good friend whose husband was diagnosed with ALS ( a terminal motor neuron disease) a year and a half ago and they have all the same questions as you do. It ends up the whole family is treated differently which I am sure Mike and your family can attest to. You are different. You have moved to a whole different level emotionally and I am sure you look at the world in a whole different way than you did a few months ago. It is very painful to watch people you love have to go through what you are going through and yet I believe strongly that this was not God induced but that you are feeling the love of God in all the people that are surrounding you right now and through each of them you will be given the strength you need.
Thanks for your honesty. I too am so glad you are not keeping all of this inside. You articulate well what many feel when they go through a life threatening illness. We are all out of our comfort zone as we walk along with you but that's okay, that is part of the change that will happen in each of us.
Just so you know- incase you need a reminder - you are special (and so are those crazy sisters of yours) Your cousin, Mary
p.s the only way I know how to make this note enter is to do it anonymously which I know I am not but I am too blog iliterate to do anything different!!!
Hey, it's your sound guy.
You've hit something on the head with this.
Your observation is not total paranoia. People tend have some very visceral, and not altogether rational reactions to a disease of this magnitude. In some ways, you end up as a poster child for the message 'This can happen to you too! You have no control over your life or death!' and most people don't want to confront that.
It's not right or fair to be in that position, but most people are not comfortable feeling like they're out of control, and one thing I've observed is that cancer (or other major diseases) points out, in the sharpest possible way, that we're not in control.
As a result, I think people end up with some cognitive dissonance, mixed in with guilt, and performance anxiety (OMG! WTF do I say now!?!?!?!) and the result is someone getting all weird and awkward with you.
That's why I stick my foot in my mouth--so at least I can try to get a laugh out of you when it's my turn to be all weird and awkward.
Erik, you sound like our kinda guy, sticking your foot in your mouth. Now, if you were to stick your foot in somebody ELSE's mouth, THAT would be weird.....
Erik, if you are at Jane's wedding, would you deliver a huge hug to her for us? We would sure appreciate it. Nothing dramatic, just an old garden variety hug. Thank you. Jane's "Vegas Connection"
Oh, I'm definitely going to the wedding--I'm bringing the tunes, so she'll hurt me if I miss it (not to mention there'll be boring music if I'm not there).
I'll try to give her hugs, but she may kick me if I get too close--she likes to keep a safe distance from me--for good reasons.
You were just here a minute ago. Now you're here, and here and here. But you will never in your life be there again. But you are right here, right now. What the hell is the Catfish talkin' about?
I'll tell you. At the equator, the Earth is moving at about 1,000 miles an hour. At our latitude, you are moving with the rotation of the earth at about 600 m.p.h. So one hour from right now, you'll be about 600 miles away from where you are right this second.
Not only that, but the Earth itself is rotating around our Sun at 66,000 m.p.h. That's 1,100 miles per minute. In the time it took you to read this from the top, about 30 seconds, you are at least 550 miles down the road, not counting the Earth's rotation.
Our Sun is part of the Milky Way Galaxy, which is still expanding. We're about half way out from the center of the galaxy, so astronomers figure we are being flung out from the center at about 43,000 miles an hour, give or take. What direction? Well, we're following the star called Vega in the constellation Lyra. So now you know where you're going, relative to everything else.
So 600 m.p.h. round and round the planet, 66,000 m.p.h. round and round the sun, and zooming out on the centrifugal force of the expanding Milky Way galaxy at 43,000 m.p.h. Got that so far?
Oh man, my brain is starting to hurt. But I'm not done yet.
Our galaxy is shaped like a pinwheel. Our sun goes around our galaxy about once every 225 million years. That's about 483,000 m.p.h. But remember that since our solar system formed, our planet and it's Sun have been around the Milky Way galaxy only 20 times.
"Yeah, but ... ," I know, I know. You want to know how fast our Milky Way galaxy is moving, right? Well, compared to what? nobody knows the limits of the universe. Where is the reference point, the "zero" from which we could calculate speed? Turns out the closest astronomers can come is to look at the cosmic background radiation expanding from "the Big Bang." (O.K. all you fundamentalist creation science folks, I'm not going to go there with you. If you like, you can ascribe the Big Bang to God snapping his fingers and poof, there it is. One way or the other, it's here.)
So how fast is the Milky Way galaxy moving? It's going, and we are going, 1.3 million miles per hour. Where are ''we" going along with our galaxy? We're heading in the section of our sky roughly toward the constellations Leo and Virgo. Why is the Milky Way galaxy going there? Because something is pulling us that way. It's something astronomers loosely refer to as the "Great Attractor." Draw your own conclusions about what that might mean. It's probably not good. But we'll never know. It could be a black hole, sucking us and our galaxy down the cosmic drainpipe. Or, if you prefer, call it heaven. Either way, I'm pretty sure that Homo sapiens are going to war, famine and or poison themselves into extinction long before they get there.
But anyway, we do indeed pass this way but once and we will never be "here" again.
Some people find this fact to be disconcerting.
Others use it as a reminder to be kind to others because we are only here once. Personally, I find it comforting. I know where I'm going. Whether I am part of a divine plan, or part of a natural force, I am sentient and aware that I am part of something and I can take my place within it as all of our species has done and must do. Mortality? It's not so bad. Am I "special"? Are you "special"? Yes I am and yes you are too.
We are star dust, brought to life! Whether God blew a breath into Adam, or whether we flopped up out of the primordial ooze, we are ALIVE right now. What a tremendous opportunity.
So sad that we are all here such a short time. But a "short time" is so relative. How would you like to be a fruit fly? You've got 24 hours. If you are a bristlecone pine tree, you might have 5,000 years. Like your mother told you, "you get what you get and you don't throw a fit."
What will be, will be. Live right now. Be here now. You have today. Use it.
And if there is any consolation to all this whizzing round the universe, defined in human terms, look at it as if there is no past, or future, there is just right now.
I wrap my mind around that and I am at peace. If there was anything I did wrong in the past, well it's long gone now, millions and millions of miles behind us. I am forgiven. YOU are forgiven. And if you did good things, and all human beings, even the worst like Hitler or Stalin, or George W. Bush, have done at least one good thing, then take pride in that, that you were kind and you helped bring comfort to someone else.
That's all I know.
Post a Comment