I’ve begun attending a cancer support group.
For a pre-group warm-up, the kind and soft-spoken instructor tells the room full of cancer survivors and their caregivers to “shrug our shoulders” and “reach to the left” and “reach to the right.” We all have permission slips from our oncologists allowing us to do this.
Group members in various stages of cancer and remission moved from the light exercise to the proverbial beach ball toss. (A personal beach ball is included with the support group materials.)
I considered the scene in which I found myself. Has it really come to this? Has cancer and its treatment turned me into someone who does “old person” exercises like reaching and beach ball tossing? I need a doctor’s permission for this? How long until they recruit me for Stretch and Bend at the nursing home?
Then I noticed another woman in the room who was, like me, in her mid-fifties. She really couldn’t toss the beach ball. Years of chemo, radiation and surgeries left her with little strength. She remained seated and rolled the ball to her partner. Two others were in wheelchairs.
I felt my post-cancer rage well up inside. Cancer sucks. I know the word is crude, but so is cancer.
My cancer is gone and I know I should be thankful. I am thankful it’s gone. But I’m mad, too.
I’ve actually found life to be somewhat more difficult now that I’m “free” of the beast that spent a few years trying to kill me. My hipbones hurt from radiation. It’s painful to walk and stand. I have a colostomy, which some days I hate with a passion and other days I could care less about. I’m still kind of weak. I feel foolish asking people to open jars for me and I can’t ride my bike for very long periods of time. I have scars from the port and surgery.
(And don’t even get me started on the medical bills. $10,000 to put a port in and $2,000 to take it out? Really?)
But because I’ve been “cured,” I feel like I should not be mentioning any of this and should be skipping through a meadow, plucking daisies and being happy. But, sometimes I’m not happy. I want to kick the daisies. And I don’t feel like skipping either.
All of this newfound frustration and negative emotion has caught me off guard. I didn’t see it coming. During cancer and cancer treatment I had a clear focus — to not die and to get rid of the cancer. I didn’t have time to think about all the other stuff. Now I do.
So I’ve been having some bad days.
Which is why I signed up for the support group, and I’m glad I did. On just the first night the instructor said, “When you say you are having a bad day, ask yourself if it’s really bad for the whole day. Maybe it’s just bad for an hour or a few minutes.”
That made me think, it’s true I never feel bad for an entire day. I feel angry or frustrated for a few minutes and then I get on with my life. (I only think about kicking daisies some of the time.)
She also said one’s feelings are just that. “How you feel is how you feel. Feelings aren’t right or wrong. They just are.” She gave me permission to stop feeling bad about feeling bad. What a relief.
One of the people in wheelchairs said, “There is always something to be thankful for.” He’s right.
By the time I was driving home, I already felt better.
Of course I feel frustrated sometimes. But not all the time. And of course my feelings are mixed up. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster for more than two years. It’s going to take awhile to sort through all of these feelings and get used to my new life — whatever it’s going to be.
And the good news? Now, if I feel like kicking something, I have the beach ball.