07.08.2010
Once again I'm left pondering to myself, "Where does the time go?" I am astonished that June is over already and July is here. I'm nearing week fiveish of being on my clinical trial and (knocking on wood with my fingers crossed) so far so good. I won't know for another few weeks if the drug is in fact working, but as far as remembering to take it and how I'm feeling on it all has been well thus far. I'm praying that this continues and that the drug is working. Did I mention how much I like having hair? So July 22nd is the date for the next round of scans. Keep those prayers coming because I know the Lord is listening.
As always my mind has been going a million miles an hour. One subject that keeps creeping up is I've finally figured out what I hate most about the Big C: the dumb things people say to you. It's not the side effects, or the hair loss, or the facing of death. When people find out you have the Big C, it's like walking into Wal-Mart; your IQ level drops twenty points (at a minimum) and you regurgitate something that has given you a clinical diagnosis of F.I.M.S. (more commonly known as Foot in Mouth Syndrome). More often then not I'm left pondering, why do people say things they think are helpful when in reality not only are they not helpful but you are left thinking, "Did they just say that out loud?" or "What in the world does that have to do with me?!?!?"
My top ten list of things NOT to say to someone with the Big C is a work in progress, however somewhere on that list would include, "How are you feeling?" My response to comment number one is usually, "I'm doing well." When I'm really thinking, "You tell me. How do I look like I'm feeling?" and then I grab a tissue to wipe off any sarcasm that might have dripped on my chin off. Same with the second most common statement, "But you look so good!" Really? Forgive me but I didn't know I looked like crap before. There is also my favorite statement when it comes to the loss of your hair which is usually responded to, "Well its JUST hair; it will grow back." Really? Ok fine if its not such a big deal then why don't I see you lining up to shave your head along side me so I don't have to look like an extra in a David Bowie video circa his Ziggy Stardust androgynous phase by myself? Now before I unveil my absolute most common symptom to diagnose yourself with F.I.M.S., please know that I get it one hundred and ninety-nine percent that people have the best intentions and they just don't know what else to say. Sitting on my side of the fence though I'm hoping it will give you, my reader, a different perspective for when you come upon a situation where someone you know has been dealt some unfortunate situation. This brings me to what would be the number one contender that each time it happens to me has left me, yes me, utterly speechless.
It will happen quickly, but I've gotten good at noticing the warning signs. First, its starts with a, "Oh I'm so sorry" and then a "but you're so young". Then out of left field I am listening to someone with the best of intentions tell me about their great-uncle's-cousin's-friend's-roommate's-significant other's- nephew who has kidney/lung/breast/pancreatic or any other form of the Big C that isn't even remotely related to Hodgkin's Disease. Now I get that people are just sharing their story to find a common thread for us to relate to, getting on a same level playing field, however when I respond with the routine, "Oh I'm sorry to hear that" or "wow. isn't that awful?" then a, "and how are they doing now?" my mind is blown when 9.9 time out of 10 the response is, "oh we lost him about a year into his battle." OK UMMMMMMM?? Maybe I'm nuts or am I oblivious to something? Are my glasses not the right prescription? Help me out if I'm missing something but how is your story about the person you know with the cancer I know nothing about dying anywhere even remotely helpful to my situation?
First of all this person you know DIED. How is that suppose to help me stay positive about my fight? Second, just because Joe Blow has a a form of cancer and I have a form of cancer doesn't make us war buddies who can relate to one another. I'm immensely educated when it comes to Lymphoma Cancer as far as Hodgkin's Disease goes; all the other cancers out there-- not so much. It's comparable to say you buying a Honda Accord and someone wanting to talk about how that relates to their recent purchase of a boat.
I'm not sure what the right thing to say is, but I can tell you that life continues to only move forward. And good intentions aside, treating someone as you would've when they weren't sick is probably what I yearn for the most. When we are young we are always taught to strive to be the best; to excel. I'm here to tell you that average is pretty okay in my book because I'd rather excel at being average and live to tell you about why it's pretty awesome to excel at being average then striving for perfection and losing my battle.
Until next time...
*Image can be found at: http://firstfriday.files.wordpress.com/2008/10/average_joes_yellow_shirt2.jpg
