**Please see Editor’s Note at the bottom: This post I wrote was originally published for one of the most genuine, and dare I say all-encompassing, AYA (Adolescent & Young Adult) cancer support organizations I know, Elephants and Tea in their December 2019 issue. They had a “Dear Cancer” campaign going on where users submitted their letters written out to Cancer, as if it were a standalone entity able to read and respond to said letters. It seemed like a quirky concept, but I knew it would be somewhat therapeutic so I wrote a letter anyway thinking I would, at minimum, keep it for myself. What I wasn’t prepared for was this newfound sense of calm contentment that washed over me once I was finally finished writing. And again and again as I read and reread my entry.
It was a little darker than what I wanted to show to the rest of the world, but it was so me at the time. I mean, think about it. You’re in your 30s. Not married. Your friends are mostly married. Some even have small kids. No one has time to think about death. We all know it happens eventually, but like in the far future right? Not as a real possibility like in the now now. Well, that wasn’t me lol.
So I was in this place of not wanting to scare my friends off over here talking about this “crazyyy” cancer death conspiracy theory. Btdub, not a conspiracy theory. It’s just that no one wants to talk about it. I get it. The possibility of death sucks. Sure. But that was the reality I was living in and had to face head on and come to peace with REAL QUICK. I needed my friends to help talk me through things like they always did for everything else. On the flip side, I just didn’t want to bother them anymore about my cancer woes. So I kept it all inside. Smiled on the outside. I mean, I did “survive” right?
And then I wrote this:
Dear Cancer,
There are so many things I want to say to you. My mind is swirling right now as I try to put my thoughts to paper. Well, laptop, but I don’t think that’s a saying yet. I mean, should I keep it optimistic and politically correct by speaking only of the good? Dare I venture into that dark space of my heart and air out the bad?
Since your departure from my life, I was left behind to pick up all the broken pieces of myself that YOU created. The bad. All the good that has come from our time together wasn’t because of you. It was because of the faith I had in my True Creator, family, and friends. They exuded love and laughter to clean up YOUR mess. And since this is a letter to you, I’m almost obligated to air out the bad. I deserve to be heard and to have closure regardless of whether or not you’ll actually receive this message.
You see, I feel heavily laden with survivor’s guilt. Constantly forcing myself to remember that “at least I’m still alive,” has placed me in a limbo. Not sick enough to be grouped with those still fighting for their lives, but not normal enough to be grouped with those who have had the privilege of never knowing you firsthand. It’s like I don’t belong anywhere. Why did you have to pick this stage of my life to show up?
Were you not aware that I didn’t have a husband yet? That I was steadily climbing up that corporate ladder? That I was in no position whatsoever to discuss family planning, or lack thereof, with my significant other? That I still wanted at least the opportunity to maybe fail at breastfeeding? DID YOU NOT KNOW??
You did this to me and you don’t even care. You hid there inside of me, lingering, lurking, like the unwanted stranger you are. My life was great before I discovered you. I mean, it had its problems, but who didn’t? It was NORMAL.
I so envy those that love who they are now, even after you so purposefully stole time away from them. They’re the true survivors. You gave them an opportunity to take more calculated risks, to realize how they really wanted to live life, to become more confident individuals by learning to trust their gut. Me? I had all of that before you came into my life. And now that you’re gone, fortunately and gratefully gone, you took it all away with you. How dare you? That was not yours to take!
When I first discovered your existence, latching onto my body like the mooching parasite you are, I was in a new relationship. We JUST decided to move in together. Your presence made things THAT much harder. Who forces new couples to discuss what they would do if natural conception was an impossibility? If they would be okay with adoption/IVF/surrogacy? And if so, how would they pay for it? Would we want to freeze just eggs or fertilize them and then freeze them? Before or after treatment? How many rounds? Would I still be alive to even make use of them? Would we even still be together? If not, do we destroy the embryos we made? Are we okay with terminating created life? Would we have to lawyer up to resolve this?
And all these postulations are assuming we would eventually get married. Otherwise, these decisions had to be made one-sided. Did I want to delay treatment to harvest eggs just to freeze them? Would there be enough retrieved so that another harvesting wasn’t necessary? And if we broke up, how would I explain this to anyone I dated? Would they be okay with the possibility of not biologically fathering children? Or creating that biological family using science? Also, where would I safely and securely store this “pre-life”? How much would that cost?
Thanks for paring me down to a monthly self-storage unit.
Because of the toxic chemicals I had coursing through my veins, you know, the medicine that helped get rid of you, for whatever reason has made it physically impossible for me to continue my career in the laboratory. Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a scientist. Of course, there are other ways to contribute to the industry, but my foot in the door is no longer there. You pushed it out! Starting over from scratch is only a blessing if you loathed the direction you were heading toward in the first place. Otherwise, it is simply annihilation. Obliteration of a somewhat calculated path to a pre-planned destination. The latter was me. Is me.
What frustrates me the most is the fact that I no longer work on my own timeline. I answer to everyone else’s:
- To yours. Apparently, you’ve given me until 40 to finish having kids. By the way, I’m now almost 34. With no kids.
- To the well-trained team of doctors still managing my case. I must wait I have the “go ahead” to get pregnant. Which, as of now, is looking like I must wait another year. I almost believe It wouldn’t be so heartbreaking had I not previously planned on having four biological children!
- To my support system and everyone else I meet along the way. I’m supposed to be normal and say normal things and not get upset randomly or scared that I might lose my life anytime I breathe differently. Or worse, when I try to explain to my peers, I am almost always replied with, “Well, I’m stressed out too…”
I’m supposed to act like I didn’t just have all these life decisions figured out already. YOU took my life direction and pointed me this way. It’s like, do I even have control of my own life anymore?
The truth is, currently, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean you get to have the last say. I’m tired of rolling over and letting everyone else’s opinions dictate the way I live. The [mostly] happy survivors had it right. They refused to be bullied by you any longer. I can only hope that with time, I learn how to inherit their tenacity and take back the reins, just to show you just how much you don’t matter to me anymore. To quote my all-time favorite singer of all time, “you can’t take that away from me.” And that is where you stand in my life.
NEVER YOURS,
Nancy
**Editor’s Note: I HIGHLY recommend turning to Elephants and Tea to meet any of your support needs!! You can go from reading one of their many blog posts (written for and by fellow cancer fighters/thrivers) all the way to flipping through their curated directory of external resources to check out. Their mission statement is to:
“to help adolescent and young adult (AYA) patients, survivors and caregivers know they are not alone in their fight with cancer. The Elephant in the room is cancer. Tea is the relief conversation provides. Be Heard. Join the Herd.“
Elephants & Tea
I had the honor of meeting one of the co-founders, Nick Giallourakis, at one of the annual Young Survival Coalition conferences. Please don’t make me look up what year.. #chemobrain #sorrynotsorry lol! He and his mom started Elephants and Tea after seeing all the struggles his brother Stephen went through as a teenage cancer patient at 15 years of age..and get this, again at 18..AND as if beating it twice wasn’t enough, fast forward over a decade later, Stephen now has two new cancers!!!!!! Like, whaaaaaa?!?!?! Please pray for him y’all. Send good vibes. Whatever it is you believe in. Send letters if you don’t believe in a higher power!
Regardless, I am so grateful to have used (and STILL use) this organization. Just a few years ago as I was embarking on my own journey with cancer, I was in honest disbelief at how frustrating it was to not be able to find any type of support targeted for young people. Enter Elephants and Tea. It was almost like the Red Sea had parted for me haha! Nowadays there are more organizations and support options available, still not enough IMO, but I’m forever grateful for how much E&T has helped my mental well-being out! This is not an ad or paid promotion in any way! I just really believe in them and value their work of bringing together our community. Thanks for making me feel like I wasn’t alone, guys! Here’s to more of that!!
