Yesterday, September 10th, was the 5 year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. I noted it but since I count my "survivorship" from the date of my surgery (when the cancer was "removed"), I didn't really say much to anyone about it.
Today I ran out on my lunch break to have my nails done. For most of the appointment, I chatted and laughed with my very funny and entertaining manicurist. Toward the end, a girl who looked to maybe be in her mid-20s walked in. Makeup flawlessly done, adorable shorts and top outfit...and a beautiful orange-and-white scarf tied around her head, riding low on her forehead and near her ears in that way we immediately identify as someone who is wearing a scarf not for fashion, but because chemotherapy has robbed them of hair.
She sat down in the chair right next to me, and her manicurist was obviously at least somewhat of a friend, as she immediately asked her how she had been feeling and doing.
"Not so great today," the girl replied. She revealed she'd just had a doctor's appointment and the news hadn't been good. It seemed some of her tumors were responding to the chemo but one wasn't.
My manicurist and I both grew quiet. We weren't smiling or laughing anymore. I couldn't even raise my eyes to look at her and acknowledge what I'd heard, because I wanted to respect this girl's privacy, even though I could hear her every word. And I felt like someone had dropped a heavy rock on my chest. I'd had A tumor. A very small one, at that. This girl had multiples. Chemotherapy had given me an even higher chance of survival. It didn't seem to be doing the same for this girl.
"So what are your next steps?" the other manicurist asked the girl.
"Indefinite chemotherapy," the girl replied. "At least 16 more weeks, then we'll see."
She didn't sound depressed, although she of course didn't sound thrilled. She wasn't weeping She was just stating it as it was, without any real emotion either way. The rock in my chest felt heavier. I remember counting down my chemo treatments. I had 6 total, one every 3 weeks. 6 is kind of easy to count down. "Indefinite"? Not so much.
Then the girl said something that probably most normal working people would hardly ever have a want or opportunity to say.
"I just want to go back to work."
And then - "I just want to feel normal."
The rock crushed my heart. I wanted to burst into tears. I soooooo remember speaking those words when I was going through my treatment. Your life feels like it's "on hold" for over a year....you're diagnosed, then a stream of tests, then surgery, then chemo, then radiation. Then you wait for your hair to start growing back and you wait for those scans to come back "all clean." And you endure what seems like a doctor's appointment every single week for follow-ups. I remember saying "I just want to feel NORMAL again."
At least I had an ending in sight. This girl has "indefinite."
As an added cruelty, the girl then mentioned she was mad at her boyfriend, because she had asked him if they were ever going to get married and he replied "I don't know." Now I don't know anything about this girl and this boyfriend and their relationship. But it seems that saying "I don't know" as an answer to this girl, at this stage in her life, is wrong and cruel. She added "I thought we were going to fight this thing together and then be together."
I thought of Brendan, who was young and just "my boyfriend" of 4 years when I was diagnosed. And he couldn't have been more supportive and loving and tolerant during that whole terrible time. This girl doesn't seem to have that.
My nails were done, it was time to go. I stood up, picked up my purse...but I couldn't just walk away. Should I tell her I was a cancer survivor too? No, that seemed wrong. Because I had been so very lucky, and she didn't seem to be having the same luck. I didn't want to make her feel worse. And it really wasn't about the fact that we'd both had cancer. It was just about the fact that SHE has cancer, and she is facing "indefinite", and she is facing that without the love by her side that I had.
I touched her arm gently to get her attention, looked into her beautiful face, and simply said "good luck to you...I will say a prayer." She smiled a wonderful smile and thanked me.
I said that prayer before I even left the salon, and I'm sure I will say others for her as I think of her from time to time. And I will add a prayer of gratefulness that I was one of the lucky ones.
