Today I made the calls. I made the calls to all the people I needed to notify, and also to my people. It’s hard making the calls because it makes it real. It’s hard telling your people because you have to hear their sadness and sympathy and their grieving…because you have cancer. So I sit there, take a deep breath and tell them. Tell them the words that change my life forever.
I stop to brace myself to hear and see and feel their reactions, absorbing their fears and sadness; giving words of comfort as they process, and hear that silent sigh of relief that it isn’t them, it is me. I help them get a grip on their grief so that they can then tell me they support me, and I am strong enough to make it. Everyone keeps saying I am strong, but it isn’t about being strong when you simply don’t have a choice. My mom says I’m strong as an ox so I will be fine. She also says that eating grapefruit through pregnancy will make your kids smarter… and she didn’t eat it with me so…
I tell my employers. Their responses are great and they have my back. They encourage me to take as much time off as you need, reiterating that I can return to work when I am on the mend. The irony is that I don’t want to be taking any time off, and I feel fine. I feel better than fine actually, and I can’t imagine even being that sick. I don’t even know what being that sick means. I’m frustrated and scared because there must be a reason everyone gives you the look. That look. The one of pity that you are about to embark on that which others have only imaginably dread. It’s hard to get your head around the fact that you have fought your entire life to be healthy and now you get to fight your body and make it terribly sick so you can live.
