Today, a stranger smiled warmly at me in the supermarket, and it almost brought me to tears. She had looked at my hat, realised that I was undergoing treatment for cancer (nothing hides the baldness) and gave me a gentle, encouraging smile.
For the first time for about 6 weeks, I felt - funnily enough - frightened. All this time, I have been fighting for the right to normalcy, to be able to continue working the same hours, to be perceived as though I am ok. But today, something as small as a smile brought my human frailty sharply to mind.
Everyone has been telling me to take it easy. Most people say that they have friends and relatives who have gone through what I am going through, and I cannot be expected to be 'normal'. "No-one expects much of you right now," someone told me. I thought it was funny at the time because I expected much of myself.
Now, after the smile incident, I wonder if I have missed the plot. Perhaps I should be less optimistic, less confident that I can beat the cancer. That I will get through chemo, radiotherapy and the final surgery and then be 'normal'. Perhaps I won't make it, that I won't survive the next 5 years. Even as the thought occurs I force it away. I won't think negative thoughts, I refuse to.
Such introspection brings sadness. Every experience, no matter how fleeting, becomes something to be clung to...again. And always, lurking in the background, there they are - Fear and Panic. I refuse to acknowledge them. Cancer is serious. It is not something to be got through, but lived with. Oh God.
This is why I cling to activity, I guees. So that I don't have to think. I know sooner or later I will have to confront Fear and Panic, but that time is not now.
I am told by long-term cancer survivors that the fear and panic never go away competely. That they become constant companions. For now though, I will continue to cultivate my art - that of sticking my head firmly into terra firma, and pretending that Fear and Panic don't exist.
And they don't - for how can something exist if I refuse to acknowledge them? There - poof! - they are gone.
For the first time for about 6 weeks, I felt - funnily enough - frightened. All this time, I have been fighting for the right to normalcy, to be able to continue working the same hours, to be perceived as though I am ok. But today, something as small as a smile brought my human frailty sharply to mind.
Everyone has been telling me to take it easy. Most people say that they have friends and relatives who have gone through what I am going through, and I cannot be expected to be 'normal'. "No-one expects much of you right now," someone told me. I thought it was funny at the time because I expected much of myself.
Now, after the smile incident, I wonder if I have missed the plot. Perhaps I should be less optimistic, less confident that I can beat the cancer. That I will get through chemo, radiotherapy and the final surgery and then be 'normal'. Perhaps I won't make it, that I won't survive the next 5 years. Even as the thought occurs I force it away. I won't think negative thoughts, I refuse to.
Such introspection brings sadness. Every experience, no matter how fleeting, becomes something to be clung to...again. And always, lurking in the background, there they are - Fear and Panic. I refuse to acknowledge them. Cancer is serious. It is not something to be got through, but lived with. Oh God.
This is why I cling to activity, I guees. So that I don't have to think. I know sooner or later I will have to confront Fear and Panic, but that time is not now.
I am told by long-term cancer survivors that the fear and panic never go away competely. That they become constant companions. For now though, I will continue to cultivate my art - that of sticking my head firmly into terra firma, and pretending that Fear and Panic don't exist.
And they don't - for how can something exist if I refuse to acknowledge them? There - poof! - they are gone.
posted by Simone @ 11:31 PM
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