You know, I feel sometimes like I haven’t been fair. Before H.A.D. was diagnosed, I turned to the internet and asked for help. And everyone responded in huge, gorgeous and memorable ways by posting my plea. And after we found out he had Multiple Myeloma? You all responded again, through your kind words, the worlds best video and donations. And then H.A.D. got overwhelmed and I fell apart and nothing felt easy or right and it seemed so much easier to not share, not talk, not explain. It seemed easier to sit in my own stew of feelings- of jealousy and frustration and hate, and not talk to anyone, especially the internet. And so, for a month- that’s what happened.
Then H.A.D. came back. Started treatment. Got a new apartment, a new job and we both worked on making this better the second time around. And I started doing more reading, not just on treatment options and healing alternatives but on the psychology of cancer. I felt, and sometimes still feel- that there’s no resource that was tailor fit for me (or H.A.D. for that matter). I couldn’t find a blog or website or book that calmed my brain or made me feel reassured that I wasn’t completely RHONY sort of psycho for feeling the way I did (and sometimes still do).
So I decided to do it myself. Become my own resource. Look to myself to find comfort and hopefully become a resource for other people who love someone with cancer. Here is what I wish someone else would have told me:
1. You will wish it happened to someone else. By far, this has been the thought that has kept me up at night and ate at my insides. I know I’m a good person. I know this. I teach kids to read, I help old ladies cross the street (okay, I haven’t done this, BUT I WOULD IF AN OLD LADY EVER NEEDED HELP), I show compassion towards others even if they are still wearing No Fear t-shirts. 99.9% of the time, I’m sweeter than a snickers bar. But? Every single day I wish this happened to someone else. And I’m not choosy. I don’t just pick bad guys. I don’t just wish it on the CEO of BP, or the person who invented carbohydrates. I’ve wished it on strangers who smiled at me on the street. Co-workers who make me laugh. My teenage cashier at Safeway. Am I proud of this? No. But I can’t help but believe it’s human nature to want to protect those you love over everyone else. And if taking cancer away from H.A.D. meant I had to give it to someone else, anyone else? I would do that in a heartbeat.
That’s a hard confession to type, it’s even harder to say out loud to myself. Does this make me selfish? Absolutely. I would love to be one of those people who thinks differently, but I’m not. And I think dealing with cancer means being honest with yourself. This doesn’t mean I spend every waking moment wishing it was someone else- no, that’s not close at all. I know that I can’t move forward if I’m always looking back. But I do let thoughts of ‘I wish this person had it instead’ creep into my brain when it’s too tired to push them away.
2. And everyone else who doesn’t have it? Well, you will sometimes be jealous of them. This sounds like a no-brainer. But the intensity of how jealous you can get and how much it can affect you if you let it,.. well that surprised me. It’s a funny thing, the way that totally not funny things sometimes are. When someone you love finds out they have cancer, there is an outpouring of support. Co-workers give you hugs, strangers send you emails, friends hunker down for long talks where you are given a free pass to talk solely about yourself until you are exhausted and out of breath. But? Life goes on. And co-workers and strangers and friends all move on too.
This doesn’t mean they don’t care, it just means that they face their own burdens, reach their own accomplishments, have big and exciting announcements to share. Co-workers reach career milestones and friends get engaged. Strangers forget and your family moves on. People become pregnant or move in together, they get new jobs, new boyfriends, buy a new house. And with every new piece of news, every new announcement shared in an excited shriek, you will feel your heart burst- with both happiness for them and jealousy for yourself. And if you are being really honest? Guilt. That you can no longer feel just pure excitement for someone else and their good fortune, that even in the happiest, most joyful moments, a slice of you is jealous of someone else getting what they wanted when all you wanted was a cancer free test result.
3. Cancer doesn’t change the fact that you fight. It doesn’t even change how you fight. I guess I always had this idea in my head that if someone I loved was battling cancer I would treat them better. I would never fight, always give in, cede middle ground. I would never do anything to upset them, cause them anguish, make them hurt. It doesn’t work like that. Well, it doesn’t for me and H.A.D., anyway. We still fight about the stupidest stuff. We argue and disagree and have conversations where we both want to pull our hair out. Of course, I express my frustration in charming ways (ex “honey? I feel like my head is going to explode”), because I’m adorable and that’s just how I roll. But the truth is, cancer isn’t a get of free pass. It doesn’t make fighting or relationships any easier or harder, it just changes the shape of them.
Do H.A.D. and I have more on our plates because of his diagnosis? Of course. But I believe that every single couple goes through their own burden, every couple has their own obstacle to overcome that will bring them closer or tear them apart. I wish ours wasn’t something so dramatic (I would be happier dealing with in-laws so awful they are worthy of a Dr. Phil appearance) but this is what we have been given so it’s what we will face.
Anyway. There are three big lessons I’ve learned since the cancer bomb dropped. Like I said before, I wish I had been able to find a resource that reassured me that this was all okay. But? I didn’t and have decided to trust myself enough to know that what I’m feeling is normal, even if it isn’t always pretty.
I get regular emails asking about H.A.D.- which I have to thank you for. He’s doing well. Like I said, he started a new job, he’s continuing treatment and we are hoping for a transplant late summer/early fall. And when the time comes for the transplant and I’m a ball of nerves and fears? I will know exactly who to turn to for comfort. You.
Have a good Sunday internet!
This is an AMAZING post and I think will be such a wonderful resource for others. Thank you for sharing this, Brandy.
p.s. There’s another $35 donation coming on Friday from the Love Harder shop. :)
“You will wish it happened to someone else.” Yeah. This totally made my pregnant ass cry. Our family has been fighting my dad’s cancer for almost a decade now. 10 freaking years. I think we’re coming to the end soon…and not the happy kind of end. I’m pregnant with my dad’s first grandchildren, and I totally wish his cancer on anyone that breathes. It makes me feel horrible, but I can’t help it. The thought just pops into my head, and I know that if I could pawn his cancer off on someone else, I would.
Like Erin wrote, when my dad was sick, I wished it on everyone else. I would think of my friends, who despise their dads, men who ran away from their families or hit their wives or who were even all around decent men and I would think, “Fuck this! Why MY Dad, the man who changes my oil and gives the best hugs and calls me Punkinhead and loves my mom and brother and me, who makes us laugh so much? Why HIM and not some asshole or even some anyone else who’s not my Dad?” And even now, my dad is better, but my brother’s fiancee’s dad is sick with cancer and I just don’t get it.
Life seems really unfair sometimes.
This made me cry, the bit about Punkinhead.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m strong enough to deal with the big C, but I just don’t think I am.
Maybe that’s why it happened to you? Because you have the inner strength to not fall apart.
I hear you. The Man’s dad has Parkinson’s. He’s had it now for more than 20 years. The other day, we were discussing, how we wish it had been cancer, at least there would be some hope for recovery…
All to say, I think its normal to wish it wasn’t happening to you. Hugs.
(should have been it’s rather than its — gah… apostrophe abuse.)
I am just starting to deal with this as my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer and melanoma in the matter of a few weeks. I haven’t really had time to process it or talk about it, but I am already starting to feel something of the things you have written about.
I am glad to know that H.A.D. is doing well. I hope the good news continues to come for you both. I also know come the day of his transplant I will be here figuratively holding your hand.
This is such a beautiful, honest, heartfelt post, miss. It’s good to hear that you guys are doing well- and that you’re all still human and just trying to find a way through it at the end of the day. Thank you so much.
:)
What a great post. My brother in law has cancer and of course it has affected his whole family (me included). I love your honesty and your HUMAN-ness. Thankyou x
Take care of yourself.
This post is so honest and elegant. I’m so sorry you’ve felt like there aren’t resources out there for you but I’m so impressed you decided to do something about it.
thank you for sharing your feelings… in a not-sugar-coated-way with us all. they’re real. they’re feelings that you have absolutely every right to feel.
love you.
As someone who’s kicked the big C’s ass I can totally understand where you’re coming from. You have every right to feel what you’re feeling and to verbalize them. While I was going through chemo I actually told someone who was complaining about a cold or something like that to me, “Gee, it must be really hard to get a bad night’s sleep because you’re congested, but you know, losing your hair and having your ovaries shut down because of the 14 drugs in your system sucks worse.” Said person never complained to me again.
99% of the books out there suck. I actually hid one under my dresser it was so awfully written. If you do want one that will be honest/funny/touching, “Bald in the Land of Big Hair” was a breath of fresh air. The author had a different cancer and I’m guessing a different treatment, but it was a great book that touched not only how it affected her, but her family as well.
I haven’t dealt with cancer much personally, but my husband has cystic fibrosis. It’s a hard disease to deal with in a lot of ways (different from cancer… still sucky). This post reminds me of a lot of the feelings I went through when we were first dating and he told me about CF. Especially the parts about jealousy of people who don’t have to deal with it, and fighting. I will say that the jealousy thing can get better as you “get used to it” (if that’s really possible ~ I guess it’s more acceptance).
Loving someone with an incurable disease is really really hard. I’ve been loving him for 6 years now, and while there have been those really hard times, there have been more really good ones. Anyway ~ just wanted to say I appreciated your honesty here…. we haven’t interacted personally but I still think about you sometimes, which I guess is weird, but then, not many other people in my life have these kinds of feelings ~ so there’s that.
great post
when my mum was sick last year, and especially after she lost her battle with cancer, I would look around at all those people in our life – those who still chain smoked, and drank like fishes, and never exercised, and ate red meat 6 times a day, and wonder – why not them?
to be honest, I still do ask that – why not them?
especially now with my sister about to have what should have been mum’s 2nd grand daughter
being jealous of others who aren’t dealing with it? hell yes! it’s still hard for me to hear about other people’s good news when I am still reeling
sending you and HAD hugs
It takes courage to put all this out there to the world. Good for you for doing it – I always think it helps to talk and write about the hard stuff. I hope us readers can be of some help. XO
All these things were true for me when my Dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. You put in words what so many of us have wrestled with.
Sending you good thoughts.
A beautiful and poignant post – well done for writing it and for being so brave, Brandy.
What a brilliant post :) I’ve been very fortunate as I’ve never had to cope with anyone close to me becoming ill, but it’s refreshing to see such an honest post which will no doubt strike a chord with other people who can relate to what you’re going through. All the best to you and H.A.D. :)
It is nice to know that someone else feels the same way I do about all of this but it absolutely sucks that you had to learn it this way. I am so sorry!
I think the thing that surprised me the most was that although you are dealing with cancer and life so unreal that it seems pretend, you also still have the regular day to day stuff going on. I vividly remember my car needing an oil change and saying something about how I didn’t have time because of stupid cancer and maybe stupid cancer could lend a hand or life could pause or something so I could take care of things. If you have to deal with cancer, you should automatically get out of life things no one wants to do, right?
I totally get what you mean about friends carrying on with regular life and while yes, yes you are happy for their regular normal life it also made me kind of bitter sometimes. Not to scare you, but what happened with me is that I am now “starting over” with new friends because the ones I had got fed up with me turning down invitations to do things with them for so long because I wasn’t up to it or was having surgery or whatever so they just kind of pushed me out of their lives. I have found some new friends but it is HARD to make new friends as an adult. Especially when you still have health issues going on and are kind of terrified the same thing will happen again.
I wish there was something I could do to make things easier for you! But maybe knowing I completely understand all of it helps? Maybe just a tiny bit?
I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad to hear H.A.D. is doing well, and I’m glad to see that you’re feeling a bit better about everything. I can only imagine how difficult this is to you, and I’m really proud of you for not sugar coating what you’re really thinking, because the truth is? We all would probably feel and think those same things if that was our loved one.
You and H.A.D. are in my thoughts. Enjoy your summer, and we’ll be here when the transplant comes around. xx.
Such a beautiful post, Brandy. I’m glad to hear that you and H.A.D are progressing well and together, that he’s got you by his side and that you’re doing the healthy thing by exploring your feelings. Thanks for sharing this with all of us and I do hope it helps others in the same boat.
Ok, I have no idea how it would feel to deal with someone who has cancer, but your posts seems to basically say that life is still life. I think if anything that is GOOD for H.A.D. You not treating him like an invalid allows him not to feel that way, to stay positive and to have a “normal” life until he goes into remission and stays there.
I do know what’s it like to have your parents tell you the person you love isn’t good enough for you ON A DAILY BASIS. I do know that there is NOTHING that makes them stop and no reason for them to be sensitive. So, it probably doesn’t help any, but I feel the way you feel all the time (for several years). I wish it hadn’t happened to me. (It’s not quite serious to wish it on others, but it has crossed my mind). I have wished for acceptance at the very least and I haven’t gotten it either. I guess my point is: I know where you are. I’m there too and I’m there for you and H.A.D. While it’s just one random person’s opinion, I don’t think you’re a bad person for wishing it on someone else.
I love this post. I went through all of that with my Mom. All of a sudden everyone else’s problems were meaningless to me because mine was so great and I was jealous of them for having such petty issues. I knew I was being a snob, but it didn’t matter. And we still fought, Mom and I, and when we did they were so much more terrible and emotionally charged.
Cancer sucks, my dear. There’s no guidebook, no comfort, and no fairness. But you WILL get through this!
well, i just wanted to say thanks for this. excellent post. spot on. my aunt just died of a brain tumor in january. cancer can suck it! HAD is lucky to have adorable you by his side. :)