Removing the Curtain
When diagnosed with a life threatening illness, there’s plenty of fear, depression and uncertainty… So many heavy thoughts with only a few perks to cushion the blow. One of them is the protective curtain.
You’re generally given more leeway to put other responsibilities on hold while focusing on recovery. Health comes first. This is not only permitted but encouraged by society as cancer seems to come with a giant “DO NOT DISTURB” sign. It’s almost like others instinctively think to themselves, “I’d better be extra supportive… If my own health ever took a turn for the worst, I’d hope for the same level of compassion!”
Meanwhile, my wife and I have adopted the approach/survival mechanism of living one day at a time to avoid feeling overwhelmed from the chaos. Our goal has been to bend without breaking, like two palm trees outlasting a hurricane. Throughout all the sleepless nights and random panic attacks, we’ve been there to hold one another close and find comfort in keeping it simple.
The drawback of living one day at a time is that longer term goals (family, career and financial planning) tend not to show up on the daily radar. You have to pick your battles, prioritize new values and somehow convince yourself that you’re ok with this, even if that’s not entirely true. On top of that, when your time is spent enduring chemo, surgeries and sleeping at hospitals, you don’t think twice about placing the extra Seamless order or buying that new iPad. Anything to make your time even 10% more pleasant… “Of all people, I deserve a good splurge!”, you’ll convince yourself.
This is all covered under the cancer curtain’s protection policy. Unfortunately, if you’re lucky enough to improve your health condition, the next chapter can be a rude awakening because as the curtain goes, so does the world’s empathy. Once your hair returns and scans no longer indicate danger, it can feel like you’re merely expected to get back in the saddle.
The show must go on and suddenly, all the gaps in your longer term goals are back with a vengeance. They’re magnified and unavoidable; a brutal amount of pressure. Picture having to merge onto a highway… During rush hour… When you haven’t driven in years… And you’re already late for a meeting that you can’t miss.
I always thought treatment was supposed to be the tough part. Endure hell and if you’re lucky, become a hero to others while learning to appreciate each day more than you ever thought possible. What an incredible gift! Except, what happens when the days that follow are just as scary and painful? Many of the new worries aren’t even unique to cancer. They’re called LIFE. And life’s not always easy.
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