#8 :hear ye, hear ye

This week I began the process of telling people about my cancer. 

I think this has been the hardest part about this diagnosis thus far. 

-Not true. The hardest was telling my kiddo. That just sucked.

It has definitely been the messiest and most awkward.

My communication strategy so far has been to to blurt out “I have breast cancer” and pause

(counting silently in my head 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7…)

…

while that information journeys through the person’s ears to their brain and eventually to their heart.

For the most part, the sweet, stunned faces have all looked about the same; a mixture of fear and unsteadiness, of racing thought as they fumble over what to say next. 

And as they fumble, I step in and do what I do. 

I buffer.

I ease the awkward.

*note to self, ease the awkward t-shirt idea?

I immediately tell them that I am going to be ok, that we caught things early, that it is little more than an inconvenience and that everything will be ok. I am going to be ok.

I reassure them. 

I can’t help myself.

I have been calming and buffering people as long back as I have memories. It’s so natural, I don’t even notice that I’m doing it. My fear of awkward energy takes over and I become the self-appointed Ambassador of Awkwardistan.

But those close to me know that no matter how much I try to control how everyone feels in every single moment

(boy, it sure is the ultimate god complex isn’t it?)

it is not my job to protect people from bad things. They remind me I am not responsible for the fact that people get sick and die. I’m not responsible for wars and plauges and pestilence. They assure me, I am not responsible for how my cancer brings up fear in other people.

No, many of my friends cut me short of buffering with their own messy and genuine reactions. 

So far, my favorites include:.

“Well. Fuck.”

“Wait. You have breasts?”

“Babe, it’s a fact. You are a jalopy.”

“At least your son will get a good college essay out of it.”

Truth is, no one could ever say “the wrong thing” to me. Even semi-irritating platitudes like “I’m sure you will be fine” or “God never gives you more than you can handle” are received by me in the awkward and messy manner I believe they were intended;

 I’m sorry this is happening to you and I don’t know what to say to make it better.

What else is there to say?

The caring and compassion of the people I have told in person thus far brings me to my knees.

I am humbled.

I am grateful.

I can already see the major learning themes of this experience.

Letting go of control.
Asking for help.
Accepting help.
Accepting love. 

Gee thanks, breast cancer, for giving me yet another opportunity to practice these skills. Grrrrrrrrrr…..

:banging head against the wall in frustration:

The Ambassador of Awkwardistan is stepping down from her post. Or at least attempting to take a leave of absence.

Because, I have breast cancer.

And I’m gonna be ok.