hummingwolf (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hummingwolf) wrote2004-08-30 10:37 pm
hummingwolf) wrote2004-08-30 10:37 pm
On a cheerier note
An excerpt from the essay "Cancer Becomes Me" by Marjorie Gross. I considered typing up the whole thing and titling this post "Flagrant Copyright Violation," but my fingers aren't up to that much typing this evening & I've justed copied this little bit from somebody's website. Pasted here because I know some of you will appreciate it; placed behind a cut because others won't.
I hope with all this negative talk I haven't painted too bleak a picture and therefore discouraged you from getting cancer. I mean, there are some really good things about it. Like:
(1) You automatically get called courageous. The rest of you people have to save somebody from drowning. We just have to wake up.
(2) You are never called rude again. You can cancel appointments left and right, leave boring dinners after ten minutes, and still not become a social pariah.
(3) Everyone returns your calls immediately - having cancer is like being Mike Ovitz. And you're definitely not put on hold for long.
(4) People don't ask you to help them move.
(5) If you're really shameless, you never have to wait in line for anything again. Take off the hat and get whisked to the front.
I hope with all this negative talk I haven't painted too bleak a picture and therefore discouraged you from getting cancer. I mean, there are some really good things about it. Like:
(1) You automatically get called courageous. The rest of you people have to save somebody from drowning. We just have to wake up.
(2) You are never called rude again. You can cancel appointments left and right, leave boring dinners after ten minutes, and still not become a social pariah.
(3) Everyone returns your calls immediately - having cancer is like being Mike Ovitz. And you're definitely not put on hold for long.
(4) People don't ask you to help them move.
(5) If you're really shameless, you never have to wait in line for anything again. Take off the hat and get whisked to the front.
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(1) You automatically get called courageous. The rest of you people have to save somebody from drowning. We just have to wake up.
First time I hear someone mentions this as positive. Everyone I've talked to (and I) find this incredibly annoying. You hear it too often, every time you move a finger. Courage and bravery have nothing to do with it. You have no choice in doing everything you can to fight the disease once you decide life is worth it. It's not about courage or bravery. It's about not having a choice.
(2) You are never called rude again. You can cancel appointments left and right, leave boring dinners after ten minutes, and still not become a social pariah.
I'm called rude all the time! Okay, most of the times, it's fair enough. You try to be a trooper, but you just get grumpy and angry sometimes and can't fight these overwhelming feelings. But yes, you can cancel appointments or dinners and everyone understands. The thing is, though, you don't feel like cancelling them most of the times. You find yourself liking some appointments because they can be with someone you appreciate. Boring dinners become fascinating because you observe "normal people" and remember what it was like to feel this or that. And simply, they change your mind. Your whole perspectives change.
(3) Everyone returns your calls immediately - having cancer is like being Mike Ovitz. And you're definitely not put on hold for long.
Damn straight. Or everyone calls you randomly just to check on you. You get random love expressions. That part can be nice, yes. If they happen on your angry days though, you interpret them as "pity" and it just annoys you. You know certain people wouldn't say this or that if they didn't know you were sick. But once in a while, it's pure and genuine and it just makes you want to kick its ass.
(4) People don't ask you to help them move.
I've moved people since. They spent most of the day making sure I wouldn't lift a finger. Sometimes, you need to be less careful and push your limits. Sometimes, you need someone to take you by the hand and remind you you need to stop and take a break. I understand it's very hard for others to see which of the two you need at the time. I recognize that. Sometimes, I'm almost glad I'm the one with cancer and not someone having to deal with me.
(5) If you're really shameless, you never have to wait in line for anything again. Take off the hat and get whisked to the front.
There are many different chemo variants and not all of them make you lose your hair. One thing we all have in common though: we often look as if we have just been hit by a few 18 wheelers. Even without total hair loss, you can randomly see it in strangers' eyes. Sometimes, you just don't look well and if you go out in public anyway, you get looks. Most of the times they feel like "Damn, sure glad I'm not her....what the hell happened to that poor girl?", but once in a while, someone will give you a weird, almost hidden, smile feeling like a "Hang in there, kiddo" and you just nod and smile back, knowing it'll be all right.
Do you know where I can find the rest of the essay online?
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Is it a long essay?
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Essay's not too long. I probably could type it up tomorrow or the next day or something. But I really wish it were online someplace, 'cos I hate blatant copyright violations. Then again, the woman who wrote it isn't around to enjoy her copyrights anyway, so as long as nobody complains I should be okay.
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And if you are too tired or not in the mood to do so, don't type it. I'm curious about it and I liked the part you posted (and really can't find it online), but I could always find a real copy somewhere.