Things I Haven't Learned From Cancer

Having cancer has been such a gift to me. I wake up in the morning, my heart filled with joy, my mind focused on all I am going to accomplish that day. I am thankful for the little things -- the smell of coffee brewing, the dust bunnies scurrying under the couch, the dog tromping on my bare feet with her eagle-like talons.

Ha. Just kidding. This is actually something that I don't understand, something that makes me (in my mind, at least) Someone Cancer Has Been Completely Wasted On. Okay, I don't really feel like that, I mean, cancer is pretty much wasted on everyone, but I honestly haven't had any grand revelations about Life after everything I've gone through (or not gone through).

Actually, the idea that having a major illness makes one suddenly keener to the beauty in everyday things, or inspires one to live with an intensity unknown in their life before cancer has always pissed me off. To believe that means we have to operate on the assumption that our lives before cancer were lived in a sort of dream-state where things passed by without notice, and that it was a bad thing.

I don't want to live every day as though it's my last. I want to live every day for what it is. I was an incredibly happy person before cancer, albeit in my own snide, sometimes cynical way (though I am by no means like that all the time). Some days I would be completely thrilled by the swarming colony of sugar ants that invade my kitchen sink every spring, others I would casually wipe the ants up with a paper towel, thinking nothing more of them. And I am still like that. Nothing has changed. The same things still drive me crazy. I don't find anything beautiful in my rage at finding all the coffee used up on a morning when I REALLY REALLY NEED TO CAFFEINATE MYSELF, nor do I find anything delightful in the fact that I can still feel rage. Or that I feel rage over a lack of coffee beans (although you have to understand that they are fairly-traded,  organic coffee beans, and it isn't like I can just run to the dep for more).

I saw a family friend a few months ago who said (and I may have mentioned this before), "You must feel so strong now!" with a sparkling, star-struck look in her eyes. I laughed uncomfortably and said "Eh, no . . I mean, yeah, I guess so, I mean, no not really," afraid I would hurt her feelings. But, uh, why would I feel strong? Because my body crapped out on me, but I was willing to do what it took to live regardless? That is not strong, my friends. That is the survival mechanism kicking in. Most of us have it, and it is a lot easier to choose to do what is needed to survive than it is to say "No, enough." Because saying 'enough' is going against one of the strongest instincts we have -- self-preservation.

I don't want a new understanding or appreciation of my life. I want to go through my days thinking I have millions left. I want to enjoy myself -- or not --simply because I am doing something enjoyable, not because it might be the last time I do that enjoyable thing. And I just don't get it when people thank cancer for coming into their lives. Cancer didn't help me overcome any flaws in my character (not that I am suggesting I possess any flaws of character, I'm just being, you know, hypothetical), it didn't make me see the world as any more fleeting a place than I already saw it as, it hasn't made me any more thoughtful (though I've always been thoughtful), nor has it made me appreciate anything more than I did before, except, perhaps, narcotics.

This isn't to say there aren't things in my life I haven't learnt from cancer. That would be untrue. But the things I've learnt from cancer are things I would have learned eventually. Those parts of myself which are strong are still there, the parts that are weak would still be there if I had any weakness (um, okay, I have weakness and it is still there). I've always been able to laugh at myself -- that hasn't changed, and I am still as irreverent and confused as always. I live life with the same intensity I knew before, though, if anything, my life is now tinged with a bitterness that is new. Great. Now I actually have a reason to be cynical. Thanks cancer.

So what is it? What has kept me from accepting those platitudes of cancer? Did it just hit me too young? I never hear survivors of childhood cancers saying "God, I'm glad I did 3 years of chemotherapy for leukaemia as a child, it's really made me a stronger person with a renewed vigour for life." Maybe if you're too young when cancer hits, you're still too enamoured with life, with possibility. Or maybe mundanity and routine are still too new, so cancer doesn't warn you against being mundane and routine, because let's face it -- routine isn't that mundane if your routine only lasts 6 months before changing. (Dudes . . . did that make any sense? I know I should reword that, but it is so beautifully garbled, I can't. Cancer has made me see the beauty in a poorly-wrought sentence.)

So there you have it, my rant, apropos of nothing. (Does anyone else find the word 'apropos' to be incredibly delicious? I love having an opportunity to use it.) My apologies if I have offended anyone, it certainly was not my intention.

In Other News

I got a smokin'-hot haircut yesterday. It is my favourite haircut ever, until I get the next one. All the haircuts I get from my hairdresser are my favourites until the next. Either I am easy to please, or Miss Red does a brilliant job. Or maybe it's both.

Comments

[Rae]

"Someone Cancer Has Been Completely Wasted On" Did I mention how much you rock? A lot.

Yay for new haircuts. I just got one myself, and although I would not characterize it as smokin' hot, it has definitely cured me of my pseudo-mullet. If you have found a hairdresser you trust, stick with her for the rest of your life. Seriously, you might have to rethink moving. I am definitely looking forward to the next issue!

[deborah]

Wow. What a powerful post. And so beautifully put.

I guess the equivalent in my world would be the infertile who finally gets pregnant and is supposed to simply sit back and bask in all the beauty and wonderment of pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing. She's not supposed to complain about anything because SHE ASKED FOR IT, right?

[Michelle]

Wow..I mean..I think your post is amazing. I think I would feel the same in your situation. It's just a crap thing and I hate when people try to take crap situations and make them good. But I'm so glad I found your blog..you are an amazing writer and I like reading what you have to say!

[sweetisu]

Cancer didn't teach me anything either. And I was 24.

It just added / intensified the cynical, bitter, angry side of my personality. And I loathe it when people say things like "you two must not fight about the little things anymore". Or "you're so brave/strong/blahblah/I couldn't have gone through what you have".

Umm, yea. Whatever.

[Reprogirl]

Hi there. Love your blog. I recently discovered you through... I don't even remember any more whose blog (some infertile lass). Thank you for sharing your speckulum experience with me (yucky). Have you ever read Barbara Ehrenreich's piece about having breast cancer? I think it was published in Harper's. The general theme was, down with pink stuff. It was fantastic. I agree with everything you said. Crappy things don't happen to you because they are Meant to Be or because they teach you something or make you stronger, they just happen. All that stuff is meaningless nostrums. People mean well when they say it. But they might as well just emit random sounds for all the meaning it has.

[Becki]

I don't think there's anything wrong with you for not embracing cancer as this beautiful growth experience. I've not had it myself, but I've seen a bunch of it, and from what I can tell, cancer blows. And it's just possible that you had a rich appreciation for life beforehand, and you didn't need cancer to teach you that lesson.

That said, I believe as a Christian that nothing is random. Which is NOT to say that I think God gives cancer or other crappy things to people because they deserve it. I sincerely think God does everything for a good reason. I just don't know what that is most of the time, which I guess is why they call it faith.

Onto other critical matters: did the skirt in question come with a speculum? Because vaginas tend, in my experience, to be pretty retiring creatures. Obviously the young lad meant "vulva," and obviously he had neither the brains or the stones to say "vulva" in public.

Thanks for this post, Louise! I don't think I've ever gotten to talk about faith and my genitalia in one comment before.

[Becki]

Oh, and didn't "slut" originally mean a slovenly woman? I am a slut.

[cancerbaby]

Agreed. I cringe, CRINGE, when I hear the "thankful for cancer" speech. And I hate the suggestion that, having been ill, my outlook on life should somehow be more saintly. There's a real wierdness to that -- a kind of alienation wherein other people suddenly set higher standards for you than they do for themselves, and it's actually quite insulting, if you really think about it.

[Noelle]

Damn, I had to read this post and then go away and think about it for a while before I commented. It's funny, when I was really sick, the thing I missed the most was the ability to walk around with my head up my ass and do the dumb, day-to-day shit that I usually hate. (work, school, etc.)

I've never had cancer, but I imagine that if I someday do, I would feel the exact same way. Some people think that "fully appreciating life" involves days filled with sky diving, sitting on beaches deep in thought, learning to paint (or whatever), admiring nature more fully, blah blah blah.
Isn't it really about living every day going about your mundane tasks and half-believing that you have a million tomorrows?

[Jeannette]

I do agree with you. It is like saying, I'm so thankful I had my foot cut off because now I truly appreciate the gift of walking. I did learn some things during cancer treatment like how nice people can be and how much people are willing to do for you. I have always been so busy and independent that I rarely if ever let anyone do something for me. It was humbling. I also learned that I do have the strength to to walk into a room of people with no eyebrows, eyelashes, or hair wearing a hat (a stylish Burberry hat, but a hat nonetheless -- people don't wear hats much in L.A.). I didn't know I had the strength to do that because I never thought I would have to do it. I guess I learned quickly what is truly important and what I had previously made important. I think it is weird when people tell me how brave and strong I am. I know I was strong before the cancer and it certainly didn't make me invinceable. We just do what we have to do. Plain and simple. I think it is important to look back and see how far we have come and how we have grown in all aspects of life -- not just the cancer part. It gives up hope for the future and gives us perspective. Thanks for sharing your journey. I love your honesty.

[Sarah]

Oh my God, Louise. You're brilliant, and this post was written just for me at just the time I needed it. If I didn't already have a girlfriend, and you were on the "B" Team, well....oh, never mind.

Your blog is now my very favorite read. Even your comments give pleasure.

Big thanks for the support over at my blog, and for speaking with such clarity, honesty, and style.

[Joan]

Cancer didn't teach me anything, either. Mostly it just pisses me off.

But, as I am older and a mom and all that, I have to let all that go and just be. What I wonder most is what my cancer is teaching my kids. It really sucks when my 8-year-old asks, "Mom, do you still have cancer?" (have to be honest and say I don't know), or my 4-year-old, snuggling on my lap, gently runs his fingers over my thyroidectomy scar and asks, "Mommy, when is your scar going away?" (Never, sweetie.) Let's go make cookies!

I am temporarily free of the Big C's grip, feeling pretty good these days, but of course I have a scan pending very soon. Whee!

This is way more about me than I had intended, but all that is just to illustrate that you have really nailed my own feelings on this particular issue, with your usual eloquence.

[Maureen McHugh]

Oh God, this is soooo true! And even when cancer teaches me a lesson--you know, some odd little thing like, wow, I never really realized how generous so-and-so is, a week later I've learned my lesson, had my little epiphany, and I still have cancer. I mean, I got it, okay? Had the Disney moment! So why do I have to go back to chemo?!

[Ruby]

OMG! I feel the same way sometimes (well, most of the time). Cancer did kind of motivate my boyfriend of 3 years to get off his tail and decide to get married, but that would have come eventually anyway. LOL But I just HATE the "strong" comment. Umm, no... I'm not strong. I did want anyone else would do. I have a few friends who have comments about my strength through this thing, and how they couldn't do it. Well, I bet they could. I'm not strong b/c of cancer, I just did what anyone else would do - deal with it, have my pity parties, go to chemo, cry, beat the pillows, go to chemo, etc. I suppose the most strength I had NOT punching the busy body ladies at work would come into my cube and ask "How are you doing?" with that head tilt and "concered" (ug! patronizing!) look in their eyes.

[Pam]

I wish I could write like you.

[Erin]

Wow, I'm so glad I'm not the only cancer patient that isn't actually getting anything out of having cancer. I'm 17 and clearly being a teenager wasn't hard enough. Loving the fact that i'm bald (ha not a chance) and it's amazing the friends that come out of the woodwork when you get sick like this. I was starting to feel guilty at the fact that i didn't feel strong at all when people commented on how well I'm handling the whole situation. They just haven't seen me at home with my mum crying my eyes out. Reading your blog has made me realise that I'm not a freak in how weak i feel and glad to know having the urge to punch someone when they comment on my strength is a totally normal thing. Cancer bites the big one but we rock for going through such a shitty experience.

[Anonymous]

I just came across your post. Excellent post. I've felt the same way about it, having been diagnosed while a teenager. The absolute most annoying thing to me is the "battle" we "fight". Please. I didn't battle anything. I sat in that recliner in the chemo ward doing my very best to think non-vomit-inducing thoughts. I don't feel I "won" the "war". I took the chemo because that's what I had to do. That's why everyone does it. I didn't put on my uniform and march out.

[Leggy]

If my husband read this post, he would nod and agree vigorously. He always gets so annoyed at the "strong" comments. And as for "did it teach me anything"- you know I've struggled a lot with that in our circumstances (IF secondary to cancer). Yeah, maybe it did, but so what? Couldn't I have learned it all in a less painful way?

[pb]

What is so true is you don't realize how invincible you are until cancer touches you. Your invincibilty gets tested countless times, by you and the people around you. Sometimes you just want to give up, but you wake up every morning and you go through the motions again and again. It's sad

"I guess the equivalent in my world would be the infertile who finally gets pregnant and is supposed to simply sit back and bask in all the beauty and wonderment of pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing. She's not supposed to complain about anything because SHE ASKED FOR IT, right?"
What???? That's total crap - how dare you compare morning sickness and poopy diapers with chemotherapy and the possiblity of death? And who asks for cancer?? Yes, infertility and procreating are just like dealing with cancer. WTF indeed.
I love the original post though...you sound just like my mom. She was never one of those people who needed cancer to appreciate stuff in life. Beautiful post!

[Joel]

I am in love with a woman who had breast cancer at 32 year-old, 5 years ago, (mastectomy, chemo, radiotherapy). I met her six months ago during a trip in France. P.is full of joy, brillant, gorgeous, very beautifull, distinguée, lives in Paris where she works. I live in Montreal and we comute every month. I am suffering of chronic jetlag and transatlantic fatigue. She just had a cosmetic procedure and I was there in Paris for the surgery a month ago. The female plastic surgeon invited me to assist.
P.is still pissed off at the disease and at the whole world, and sometimes I feel the huge burden to repair the damage. She has a powerfull erotic faith and she helped me rediscover my own faith in God. I write her a letter every day and those love letters will probably be published one day if she accepts the idea... She changed my life. I love her so deeply even if or because she didn't learn nothing from that experience except pain.

[Jennifer]

I am just reiterating some of the other comments, I realize, but I say 'ditto' to your post. My experience with cancer comes as a family member. My brother died of a brain tumor (I never know how to phrase that correctly - malignant brain tumor, brain cancer, brain tumor, or glioblastoma of the hypothalmus - take your pick!)four years ago, and my mom had breast cancer this year. Yeah, bring it on. I dont' believe in learning from misery and pain. 'God doesn't give you anything you can't handle' or 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger'. What? You've got to be kidding. Some people are just wonderful and gracious no matter the situation. People complementing your strength are usually just in awe of the accepting of a horrible situation, and trying to work toward a better day.

All the best to you!

[Molly]

A++ for this brilliant, funny, honest piece!

Best Wishes!

[theoracle]

Your comments are so real and state exactly how I feel. I lost my aunt 1 month ago to lung cancer, and my dad (her brother) 6 years ago to the same disease. Learn from cancer?? What a bunch of hooey!!! You cope, you cry, you do what you can for the person suffering and recogize that as you care for them you suffer too. Life is full of suprises and pain, they just happen. I hope I never get cancer, but if I do I expect to experience life as the same person I am now with whatever changes happen you your psyche as you experience yet another thing in life.

[Roberta]

Thank you for writing this. I have not had cancer. What I have experinced is alcoholism, other addictions, depression... sat in many groups listening to people say they are grateful to have been an alcoholic or drug addict. I am not grateful for it and if I had any choice it would be to NOT have experienced any of it, including "recovery".

I don't agree with the belief that difficult experiences are what we need to show us anything.
A loving joyful life is all I would have loved to have lived, without a moment of suffering.