Cancer Fallout

For those Desperate Housewives fans, a storyline a few years ago featured one of the main characters, Lynette, having cancer. I cried watching her deal with diagnosis and go through chemotherapy. 


However, when her treatment ended, so did the cancer storyline. 


She was not only "cured," but she had no physical and psychological effects from the devastating disease and treatments. And guess what? Her husband and children put the cancer behind them, too. Cancer was so over, that it was time to move on to other plot lines of dysfunctional proportions. 


We in the cancer world know better. We know that cancer -- whatever the outcome -- affects us for the rest of our lives. Like a nuclear fallout, the fallout from having cancer is huge. Storylines like that of the Desperate Housewives post-cancer episodes do the public a disservice: they teach us that if we are lucky enough to have the status of "cancer survivor," then cancer should be eradicated from our history. 


Someone once told me that I had to "get over" this thing (meaning the cancer), as it was in the past. Other people told me how lucky I was to have breast cancer, the "good cancer."


What loads of sh*t.


To this day, people admire me for "beating" cancer. 


Truth is, breast cancer has beaten me up pretty badly.


OK, it's a given that diagnosis and treatment were hell, so I'm fast-forwarding to what my "post-cancer" life is like. Overall, I am grateful to have survived thus far, and I enjoy each day, or try to, because I know how fragile life can be -- and I know how close I was to losing my life. 


However -- not to sound ungrateful here -- my cancer treatments set off a chain of events: side effects such as significant bone loss, terrible abdominal and back pain from DIEP flap surgery, chemobrain, fears of recurrence -- especially when I have aches and pains, as well as psychological lows and flashbacks. And then there's that pang of fear that strikes me each time I have a follow-up with a doctor. 


But I'm just expected to "get over cancer" because it's in the past. 


Huh? 


Why do people feel the need to sweep these experiences under the ever-so-tidy carpet of denial? Maybe it's because they want to live in a land where we all live in gingerbread houses.


Well even gingerbread houses rot.


Having cancer is like being on a doomed train. If the first car derails, there are repercussions for the other cars. 


In the meantime, I will ignore the "get over it" and "it's in the past" comments and go on with what's left of my life. We only get one life on Earth, so it's our duty to live it to the best of our abilities.


For another post on the effect of a cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment, see Nancy Stordahl's excellent post, Cancer and the Domino Effect. 


What are your cancer fallout experiences? Has anyone tried to minimize your cancer experience? All rants are welcome.


I'm writing a book titled Calling the Shots: Coaching Your Way Through the Medical System. Please feel free to subscribe to this blog by clicking the orange subscribe button. I am a professional writer and have published numerous academic and magazine articles, as well as an essay on my breast cancer experience in the anthology Voices of Breast Cancer by LaChance Publishing. I can be contacted at bethlgainer@gmail.com and gainercallingtheshots@gmail.com.

Getting Over 'It'

"You just have to get over it."

"You need to get beyond this thing."

"You should move on."

These are just some of the well-meaning comments that well-meaning people have told me over the years.

"It" and "thing" refer to cancer. 

The individuals who told me these things had never been diagnosed with cancer. Of course not. Somehow these people want to view life as a series of children's chalk drawings, as if to say people who've experienced cancer ought to view life as a bright rainbow of colors -- and it'll all be A-OK.

Well, children's chalk drawings are fragile. Just ask any rainy day.

Truth is, anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer will never "get over 'it.'" Truth is, once a person is diagnosed, he or she is never the same physically and psychologically. Truth is, telling people affected by cancer to get over it is harmful to our health and psyches.

Don't get me wrong: we appreciate and savor life and all that jazz, but we are forever changed by a cancer diagnosis.

I remember the day my surgeon told me I probably had breast cancer. I was lying on the biopsy table and literally felt as if I were sinking into the ground.  I was in disbelief, and as he conducted his biopsy, I kept telling him I didn't want it to be cancer. I now realize, that at the time, I was begging him to tell me it wasn't so.

Two days later, he told me it was so.

I cannot list enough adjectives to describe what goes through a person's mind when diagnosed with cancer: horror, disbelief, numbness, terror (like crap-in-your-pants terror), and loss of control, just to name a few. I will discuss loss of control -- an entire issue unto itself -- in a future posting.

For the rest of our lives, we who have been diagnosed with cancer wonder what the rest of our lives will look like. Doctors recommend treatment protocols, without revealing their long-term damage to the body. Not exactly informed consent. Limited treatment options are available to the patient. Again, not informed consent. Poisons enter the cancer patient's body, perhaps taking a great toll on his or her long-term health. The patient often wonders if the cancer is ever really gone or whether his/her cancer will be the very thing that kills him/her.

Telling us to "get over it" redefines our reality in a harmful way: by denying the ugliness of cancer. Most people who tell us to move on don't realize how they are affecting us. And perhaps we tell those in our lives that living a quality life is still possible, but getting over cancer is not. 


If you wish to leave a comment about your own experience, please feel free to do so. I would love to hear your perspectives on this topic.

This posting is an excerpt from my upcoming book, Calling the Shots: Coaching Your Way Through the Medical System. To obtain these excerpts regularly, please subscribe to this blog by clicking the orange subscribe button. I am a professional writer and have published numerous academic and magazine articles, as well as an essay on my breast cancer experience in the anthology Voices of Breast Cancer by LaChance Publishing. I can be contacted at bethlgainer@gmail.com and gainercallingtheshots@gmail.com.