Present vs. Past: Does Tense Matter? (#3, and the final post in my Cancer Series)

Sally Brown, Charlie Brown’s little sister, is famous for screeching, “I’ve been robbed!” She says this to Linus in the film, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,” when she misses out on the Halloween goodies by waiting with him in the pumpkin patch. 

I feel a bit like her, only I didn’t miss out on the good stuff. This may sound strange to you because it does to me. I never got to say, “I have cancer.” Leading up to surgery, I struggled hard with knowing what to tell people. “I’m having surgery” didn’t seem to be weighty enough and was dismissed by those who knew the full story, as not being authentic. In my mind, it was only pre-cancerous, and I was honestly expecting it to be fine, so I didn’t want to use the “C” word. I felt that dishonored people who were going through the full process of chemo and/or radiation treatments. 

I was afraid I would come across like the little boy who cried wolf. I didn’t want to be viewed as dramatic, or untruthful, if the precancerous label turned out to be negative. I tried to downplay it for two reasons. One, so this fear wouldn’t turn into a feeling of hypocrisy when all turned out well. The second reason was a sense of duty to be strong for my friends.

When a woman uses phrases related to cancer, the automatic assumption is breast cancer. I didn’t want to tell people the specifics, but I decided talking about my uterus was easier than leaving people to their assumptions and watch their eyes dart downward. At least there wouldn’t be any staring this way.

These were all uncomfortable words for me. It took several weeks, but I finally settled on, “I’m having abdominal surgery for a precancerous stage of endometrial cancer.” This was completely true, while also still playing it down. I think I got to the point where I included full hysterectomy in my word choice. 

Back to Sally. The irony was not lost on me that I played her in a primary school play, even to the point of insisting my Sunday School teacher call me Sally. By the time I received the diagnosis, the tumor was out of my body. “I have cancer” never escaped my lips. Instead, I was left with, “I had cancer.” I didn’t know what to do with that. People seemed to focus on “had” while I focused on “cancer.” I will be a patient with an oncologist for three years worth of check-ups.

There was no grieving process. Two months later, I have yet to go through the stages of grief a cancer diagnosis brings. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that something was inside my body that could kill me. I now describe it as having something evil and deadly inside me, but I haven’t found the emotions yet to respond to the words. 

Guilt was another problem. I am now left with the past-tense version. I HAD cancer. Allow me to be a drama queen for a moment here. While I had been dismissive, a few people reminded me I could have died if this was left undiagnosed. There were several cards and gifts that came when I was facing surgery. I had a couple of people visit me afterwards. 

The problem was, there wasn’t a diagnosis yet, so people celebrated that I had survived surgery, they got everything, and even if it was cancer…it wasn’t likely to have spread. That’s it…celebration period over before I found out I had cancer. There was a small support circle for the first phase, but when it came to the most difficult part, I was alone with a cancer diagnosis. I didn’t have cancer now. 

This left me with nobody to call on, nobody to talk through it with, and nobody to come sit with me, put their arms around me, and cry with me. I’m not faulting anyone; I would have had the same response. We celebrated the good…and it was good. That’s why I felt guilty for not being able to rest in the joy and simply move on. I was angry as I tried to accept the news and process it and I was sad to be on my own. Yet I didn’t feel like I had the right to be upset. 

It did play into a wonderful life lesson or two! 

Life Lessons I Learned:

• Sometimes I have no choice but to admit I need help.

• Random acts of kindness can mean as much or more than when it comes from friends.

• Strawberry sundaes can make me cry.

• I NEED friends, and it may surprise me who they are.

• The faith I doubted I had, showed up in spades, removing all apprehension that it wasn’t  real. I now know my faith is genuine, and my trust in God comes naturally. I didn’t know that before.

• I will never be the same person I was.

• I don’t want to be.

• I believe I’m to use my voice to help people who don’t know what to do when someone gets a diagnosis.

• The time people need meals and lots of love, is right after they get the first news. I was in shock, and we didn’t eat very well for a few days. Most people provide meals after surgery, but help is also needed early in the process. It’s a weak spot in the serving and loving mindset. You don’t know this unless you lived it. I can help change that or do that for others.

• Don’t ask people if they want something. I wanted a lot but wouldn’t ask. Instead, try saying, “I’d like to stop by today or tomorrow, is that ok?” It’s easier to say yes to an offer than to ask for someone to do something.

• I am the only one who knows what I need. I’m the only one who can take care of me the way I need. I know we’re told we should be in community, and I won’t argue that. But, some of us are islands, and it’s okay to be that for a while.

• Music can be a form of companionship and a source of hope.

• Do for myself what I would do for others.

• It’s ok to feel things.

• I MUST take time to allow every thought, fear, and feeling to come. It won’t work to stuff this in a box and store it away.

• I have a purpose and I’m not dead, so it’s time to start living.

One More Thing...
If you know anybody facing something tough, and you feel like you don't know what to do, trust your gut and do what you are thinking of. Ask yourself what you think you would need. Find someone who has gone through it and ask what they wish someone had done or said to them.

If you are the one going through something, hold on tight to any resource you can think of. Your faith, music, friends, family, pets, books, distractions, art - whatever you have to work with, embrace it. Ultimately, you are the only one who knows what you're thinking. Reach out to someone who has been through something similar. It is impossible for people to relate if they haven't been there and we can't expect them to. I didn't before, but I vow to live the rest of my life changed due to this awareness.

Take care, and I'm always here to pray for you if you have a need or request.
Lois Lynn

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