One of the mantras you often hear after your cancer diagnosis is, 鈥淓veryone is different.鈥�
How will I react to chemo? 鈥淓veryone is different.鈥�
Will radiation make me tired? 鈥淓veryone is different.鈥�
This is as true on a psychological basis as it is a physical one. We all bring our personalities and our pasts into that treatment room. Me? I鈥檝e always been deeply anxious about the things I can control 鈥� such as getting the facts right in a story, deadlines, figuring out how to crack the code of Google analytics 鈥� but when it comes to things I can鈥檛 control, I鈥檓 very much 鈥渨hat will be, will be.鈥�
I have a young friend Amy who鈥檚 the exact opposite. Typos? A proofreader will catch them. Income tax? It will get filed eventually. However, a pain in her side? It must be cancer. A friend doesn鈥檛 get back to her three hours after a text? The friend鈥檚 dead.
One of the greatest influences in my life was my maternal grandmother, Florence Gosse. She鈥檇 had a very tough childhood in Newfoundland. Her mother died when she was young and her father was a fisherman. Not only was he gone for months at a time but he was also a gambler; in other words, not a very good provider. Like many women of her generation, who lived through the Great Depression and two world wars, she had a strong character wrapped in a stately outer layer of calm certitude. Whinging grandchildren were not allowed.
Somehow, perhaps because I admired her so much, her motto became my motto: 鈥淟ife鈥檚 unfair. Get over it.鈥�
So I鈥檇 say the acceptance part of my breast cancer diagnosis took me a few minutes. After all, it was not hard to pick up on the anxiety exuded by the technician who did the mammogram, especially when she called the reception desk to book an ultrasound that afternoon and a biopsy the next morning. Her sense of urgency gave me an inkling that what she saw on the screen was not just a harmless lump.
My sister, mother and maternal grandparents (including Florence) died of cancer. Another sister had cancer when she was 18; my father鈥檚 brother and his two daughters had had cancer, too. Why would I think it wouldn鈥檛 happen to me?
Still, I tried to approach the possibility in my non-confrontational sideways style. As the biopsy 鈥� which felt like someone painlessly using a staple-gun on my frozen breast 鈥� concluded, I said to the radiologist that if it was cancer I鈥檇 deal with it. If it wasn鈥檛 cancer, would I still need to get the lump removed?
In the kindest, gentlest voice possible, he told me that he was almost certain it was cancer. But, he told me, you鈥檒l be all right. You are about to have your life consumed by the medical system and it will take care of you. You don鈥檛 have to worry about that right now.
Then he told me that he, too, had once been faced with a serious medical crisis. He found the strength to push through it and so would I.
It was the perfect message for me. I needed not only the reassurance but also the abdication of sole responsibility and control. This wasn鈥檛 going to be my problem to fix on my own.
I asked some of my 鈥渃ancer friends鈥� how they were given the news.
鈥淢y oncologist didn鈥檛 hold back any punches but he did it in such a nice way,鈥� Sile (pronounced Sheila) says. 鈥淗e told me everything but that made me feel like he was on top of it.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 know whether it was because I鈥檓 not normally a negative person, but I was able to think that the worst 鈥� the diagnosis 鈥� had already happened. I felt right from the word go I鈥檇 be okay.鈥�
Catherine鈥檚 radiologist conveyed a sense of urgency during Catherine鈥檚 annual mammogram. Because Catherine has 鈥渄ense breasts,鈥� it wasn鈥檛 uncommon to need repeated mammograms; Catherine wasn鈥檛 overly concerned when one mammogram was followed by another, and another. The penny didn鈥檛 fall until the radiologist said, 鈥淢ake an appointment with your doctor immediately and have your doctor make a recommendation to a breast surgeon.鈥�
Those orders were followed with a big vote of confidence in today鈥檚 cancer treatments. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not like it used to be,鈥� the radiologist said. 鈥淢ost women with breast cancer have great outcomes. This is just a bump in the road.鈥�
It was the perfect approach for Catherine, too. 鈥淚 never liked anyone saying 鈥榶ou鈥檙e going to be OK鈥� because it鈥檚 bullshit. I鈥檇 rather they say, 鈥榊ou鈥檙e probably going to be OK.鈥� I don鈥檛 want anyone to give me a promise because then you can鈥檛 trust them.鈥�
This isn鈥檛 to say that the three of us didn鈥檛 have deep anxiety about cancer, or sloughed it off as no big thing. But each of us, from that first day, tried to find ways to steer our thoughts away from worry and fear.
I remember back to that first weekend as my husband and I absorbed the radiologist鈥檚 words. I have a tendency to loop things in my mind and I didn鈥檛 want a negative loop to be the one that stuck. So every time I caught myself saying, 鈥淥h my God, I have cancer!鈥� I switched it to, 鈥淚 am strong, I am strong, I am strong.鈥�
I couldn鈥檛 control the cancer but I could influence the way I thought about it, especially at this early stage before the biopsy results. I made a pact with myself: the outcome might be a great unknown but, whatever happened, I鈥檇 have the strength to deal with it.聽
