Wednesday, November 27, 2019

What Are the Ingredients In Your Shit Sandwich?

As a cancer patient, I live in a weird world.  Something about the word cancer throws people into a tizzy.  As soon as I tell someone that I deal with cancer, I get the feeling that images of the bald, gaunt, hooked to an IV pole patient comes to their mind.  To that person, I become the image of walking death. And that is how the person I'm talking to begins to treat me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the person might say, pity filling their eyes.

Or the person I'm talking to might not say a thing, but their behavior will change. 
Every time I see that person, they'll ask, "How is your health?" That's the most common question I'm asked by this type of person, as if I am living, breathing medical chart waiting to give an update on my health status. My health becomes another person's obsession, the only subject they deem worthy of conversation with me.  Frankly, I'd rather talk about ice cream, movies, even the ingredients of asphalt vs my health. The only defense I've found against this question is, rather than answering, to simply ask, "How's YOUR health?" They get the point.

Here's the irony though. Many people in my life deal with serious medical conditions. I am in that age group of above 50 so this is a part of life.  Fibromyalgia, ruptured/herniated discs in the back causing unbearable pain, brittle diabetes resulting in neuropathy, blindness, amputated feet. These are disabling conditions, often taking a person down to their knees, removing all or most quality of life.  But still, when I talk to someone from this suffering group, I'll hear statements like, "Oh, but I don't have it as bad as you do."

And I'll think, "Sweetie, you have it far worse. My pain is minor at this point, and I still get out of the house. You, on the other hand, are crippled by constant pain and entirely house bound."

I've tried to explain to this group that I am not identified by cancer. I deal with it, but I have a life as well. But to no avail. The comments continue.

Finally, the other day, I was talking to a friend whose condition involves constant, unbearable pain.  We were actually talking about her health, which is understandably a consuming topic for her (pain does that to you). But, after talking about neuropathy so painful she can't stand the sheets to touch her feet, yet another surgery to fix deteriorating muscles in her hands and feet, and other pain-filled issues, she felt compelled once again to say, " Oh, but I don't have it as bad as you do."

I was ticked. Once again, the cancer concept put me in a separate group in her mind, the dying group. In my anger,  I quickly blurted out, "The truth is we both got served a shit sandwich. Yours is just filled with different ingredients than mine." She paused and she finally agreed.

There it was. The truth I'd been trying to tell people for a long, long time. I don't have it worse than anyone else who deals with a serious, disabling condition. We all have it the same.  We got served a shit sandwich, the ingredients just are different. And life being life, everyone eventually will be served with a shit sandwich. That's how aging and health works.

I'm not sure if my repeating the shit sandwich statement will make a difference in how people talk to me once they find out I deal with cancer (notice I do not say I have cancer but instead I deal with cancer). Mostly it felt good to say this in response to yet another "you have cancer so you're out of luck" generalization. Mostly I avoid telling people about the cancer. Saves me time. But there are times where I have to tell people or they already know, so it's nice to have a response at the ready.

Cancer is not worse than any other of the many horrible conditions out there. It's about what is happening at that time in that condition.  I have good days. I have bad days.  I have friends with chronic pain conditions who also have good days and bad days.  We have that in common. And that's what I wish people would focus on instead, what we have in common.

Cancer is horrible, but it's just a disease. I'd rather focus on the day I'm in than on the image of myself dying a horrible, suffering death. Helps me keep my sanity.  So if you are lucky enough for me to take you into my confidence and I tell you I deal with cancer, rather than focusing on the image of cancer death that you may have in your mind, pay attention to what I'm saying about my life and feelings instead.  Because remember, eventually, we all get served a shit sandwich. The ingredients in your sandwich will likely just be different than mine.