Cancer Calls

Originally written February 2012

There have been people who have not been in my life for many years. At least not much. My father has been 98% absent (his choice). My brother has been 70% not around (my choice). These are people I have had some difficulty interacting with.

With my father the difficulty comes from the fact that he has been absent. Totally absent.  He doesn't call, doesn't visit, the expectation is that I come to visit him and even when I do come to visit, a 6 hour drive, he won't cross the room to say hello.  He waits until we run into each other as we mingle at the family gathering.  In the over 20 years I lived in Wisconsin as a child and adult, he visited twice.  In the 11 years I've lived in Washington, DC he has never come to visit. He came to town for a conference, called me the night before to join him for dinner, and even though he was in town for a week and I invited him to my house, he never called again.

The problem has been that I have blamed myself for my father's behavior. I thought it was something I did or said that made him go away (he's been going away since I was a young child).  I thought there was something wrong with me, that if my father didn't love me, then no one would.  It has taken years and the million-time repetition of the statement "Your father blew it"  for me to realize that it was he, not me, who was broken.

With my brother the difficulty has come from his belief that the best way to live life is his way, and his insistence on lecturing me about this during almost every conversation. He means well. He cares. But it was a constant lecture.  It got tiring. I finally cut back on my contact with him.  In the last few years I've begun to initiate contact with him more often, but it's been slow.

Since I've gotten cancer though, the calls from my father and brother have been coming in weekly.  I call them Cancer Calls. My weekly Cancer Calls.  Perhaps they think I'm going to die. Who knows. But I'm actually kind of liking the conversations.

Still, the calls come at a bit of a price.  My father is the same man he was before. He hasn't changed.  He somehow manages to be absent while being present.  For example, because he's been calling me, I decided to return the favor and call him one day. I unwittingly called him during his meal time. He was in the middle of eating. He didn't really want to talk.  Instead of saying, "Can I call you later," he simply made it clear he wanted to get off the phone.  As a friend put it, "He wants to pay attention to you, but only on his terms."  Point taken.  Keep my expectations low.

And then there was his visit to my house recently.  My father has never visited me here in DC before. We've lived 6 hours away from each other for 11 years. I've tried to ask him to meet me half way. I've driven most of the way down toward him and asked him to meet me there. I've driven all the way down to visit him and he's made little effort to seek me out and speak to me while I was there.  I just want him to make an effort toward me. Anything. Even driving 1 hour to meet me would help. Even just walking across the room to say hello.  Suddenly he decides he's going to visit me at my home in DC. He's bringing his posse, two of his children (i.e., my half brother and sister Adam and Sarah).

The first date he names to visit is February 3rd.  By February 2nd I've not heard from him, so I email him. He replies, telling me he's planning to visit on February 24th instead. February 23rd I've heard nothing. I assume he'll be arriving around dinner time on Friday, February 24 since that is my chemo day and I need someone to be there to keep tabs on me after chemo.

Thursday night he emails. He tells me they will be leaving after work on Friday and will arrive at my house late Friday night. A 6 hour drive. This means they'll arrive maybe 11:00 pm or 12:00 am.  This also means I will need to wait up for them after just having had chemo and suffering from post-chemo exhaustion. The idea that the three visitors in question couldn't take the afternoon off from work to arrive earlier in the evening on the day of my chemo stupefied me.  It spoke of insensitivity and self interest, rather than of helping. It confirmed everything I'd experienced of my father before, he cared the most for himself, rather than about helping or really caring for me.

I broke down sobbing. I sobbed over the phone to my friend Lisa and after that to my friend Frank. Both said the same thing, but it was Frank who put it best. As he explained, "An asshole with a daughter who has cancer is still an asshole."  That hit home.  Both Lisa and Frank spoke to me of doing what I need in order to take care of myself, that I should ask my father to either come the next day or stay in a hotel so I could sleep.  And then I was advised to find someone else to stay with me Friday night. Lisa volunteered, God bless her.  The point was taken emphatically this time.  Keep my expectations really, really low. Do not expect anything from my father. He is the same man as always. Just do what I need in order to take care of myself. And don't do anything that would harm me such as agreeing to wait up on Friday night through post-chemo exhaustion to fit his schedule.  This was about me and my physical and mental health. I need to protect it.

My father agreed to these conditions. The posse showed up early Saturday afternoon. I spent the day with them. My brother Adam did much work around my house and when my father left, my father gave me money to help defray the cost of my treatment.  The money was greatly appreciated. My father would not help pay for my college education back in 1983 since he had decided to use the money to pay for my brother's medical school, an action that offended my brother, God bless him.  But he could help pay for my cancer.  I went to a public college which was cheap but still a good university.  At this point I figure I've gotten my Freshman year of college money back.  Thanks, Dad. It is a big help.

As they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, acceptance is the key.  If I can accept my brother and father for who they are, I can talk to them without a great deal of disappointment or pain. With my brother it's been learning that his intent is good, his follow-through sometimes a challenge, and I can end the conversation. With my father it's been learning that my father is who he is and don't get my hopes up about him or our relationship.  Still, I find it ironic that after all the years of my desperately trying to get my father to pay attention to me and fix myself and become lovable to him (I did finally give this effort up, by the way), that now that I have cancer he's acting more like the father I wanted all along; a father who calls, seems to be concerned, makes some effort towards me.

Would I have gotten cancer before this in order to develop a relationship with my father? No way in hell. That ship has sailed. My father blew it and anything that happens at this point is more about my healing myself than about us having a bond. But, hey, now that it's here, I'll take the Cancer Calls with a grain of salt.Who knows what will happen.  All my efforts will go to keeping the interactions positive and keeping me safe.

Also published on CureToday