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If you’ve ever been re-diagnosed with cancer, how did you tell the people who were by your side through cancer before?
Some people openly talk about the concerns they have when they find lumps or bumps. I guess the atmosphere is set up for this a bit more when you live with a partner, parent, or child. Other patients bring another person with them to every doctor appointment, or at least the ones they know they’ll be getting information that could change their life.
If you go to the doctor alone, and get the news, “you have cancer” or, “cancer is back” — how do you tell your partner, parent, or child? How do you tell your best friends? There’s something that seems to shift when it’s the second re-diagnosis; the third time of cancer.
It was the hardest thing I can recall ever sharing with my parents. It took me weeks to tell each of them, and a month to share with friends, and only as we’d plan to get together for other reasons.
If you’ve been tapped on the shoulder by cancer again, maybe you need to sit with the information before sharing it with others—who’ll seem to take it personally, and who’ll look at you genuinely hurt, shocked, and confused. These are the people you’d never in a million years set out to hurt. They’re the one who’ve pulled for you, and rooted you on during cancer the first, and second time. They celebrated your triumph, and closed the door with you on any thought of cancer coming back. They believed in you when you said, “I’m cancer free” and ” I’m done with cancer.” These people still believe in you. And for me, that’s why it was so hard to tell them—again.
A while back I wrote a post called, “Don’t let the diagnosis kill you.” I wrote it before I knew anything of my re-diagnosis. It’s been a great reminder for me when my mind strays to dark territories. We all die at some point. That’s the thing about life: You can’t get out alive. But that doesn’t mean we (with or without cancer) can mope around about the card(s) we’ve been dealt.
Look around you. You have awesome people in your life. You are loved. And by many people, you are loved unconditionally. Think of that! without conditions. Wow. Take it in. Breathe in life. If you’ve been re-diagnosed, I’m sorry. It’s tough on the psyche as well as the body. But hold your head high, tell your loved ones when and how you can. Keep in mind, you’ve had more time to absorb the news than they have.
I’ve always been a staunch believer of telling the truth, and in some cases, that means just telling it quickly. I didn’t see this one coming: I was visiting my dad. I thought we had 45 minutes together and alone before we headed out. When I went to confirm, he said, “No. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.” Oooo, not in my plan. I was waiting for my way-too-hot oatmeal to cool down. I still needed to put on make-up, and brush my teeth. I put down my breakfast spoon, mainly to ensure I didn’t fling oatmeal anywhere, and kept one eye on the clock.
I quickly apologized for the timing, and for the news itself. “—I have bumps again. Cancer is back.” My voice started to crack, but I was able to rein it right back in. We didn’t have time for my that, and it would only hurt my dad more, seeing me drop into a puddle of tears over something he couldn’t do anything about. His head lowered. I could see he was going into analytical mode. I picked up my spoon, and began shoveling oatmeal into my mouth, keeping my eye on the clock. “Sorry. It’s sort of complicated. They’ll do more testing, and I’ll keep you updated. I wanted to tell you face to face.”
I got up to wash my bowl, put on make-up, and brush my teeth. We left on time.
Wherever you are on this journey. Peace.