Something occurred to me today. It could be that I’m slow on the uptake and this is not a new insight for my fellow carcinomies (that’s what we call each other), but it’s new for me and I wanna talk more about it.

Me and a large group of these carcinomies of mine have heard from doctors and surgeons, nurses and medical social workers, friends, family, and maybe even other cancer patients, “Oh, you’re gonna be just fine, you have the easy cancer.” And: “Don’t worry, if you have to get cancer, you got the good one.” And: “At least you got the most common kind, that should make you happy.”

Hold up. Wait a minute. Come again? Easy? Good? HAPPPPYYYYYY?

Excuse me, but WTF.

Like. W. T. F. ???

(stay with me here…)

I always see red when that statement is made; my knee-jerk reaction — definitely rage. How dare [you] minimize my cancer experience like that!? Who in their right mind thinks to utter such shameful nonsense?! Why does no one stop to think about what words they are *actually* saying?! Cuz I’ll tell ya, being on the inside of cancer (no matter which kind, mind you), is atrocious. There is no “easy” (so help me you did NOT just say that) cancer, there is absolutely no “good” (for real, though??!) cancer, and I don’t give a flying you-know-what at how “common” (are you kidddddddiiiinnnnnnggggggg me!?) my cancer is.

No. Just no. One should just NEVER say these things. Ever.

(keep stayin’ with me…)

But this is what occurred to me just today: Perhaps when someone says these things, it’s because these attitudes bring themselves a RELIEF from the pain of cancer. For the family and friends, it gives them hope in the unknown of what their loved one will have to experience–“If others did it seemingly easy, so will my person.” For the fellow carcinomies, turns out, the burden of knowledge is horrific so they might be saying this because they know too much and this helps them wrap their head around what their new best friends are gonna go through. For the medical professionals who say that, it’s possible they are relieved that *this* cancer is *textbook* because y’all, I can’t imagine the hell they see day in and day out.

Yet. Even in that understanding. . .

Here is why it is still problematic:

This relief minimizes the cancer experience. “This cancer is so banal, so common, so superficially easy, so prognostically good” that it is forgotten that it is STILL CANCER. C.a.n.c.e.r. Cancer becomes “this thing that happened that one time,” it becomes like all of the other “easy” and “common” life experiences. And when a cancer is “easy” or “good” or “common,” they can contain it in that little box labeled the same, letting their relief mask their pain.

This relief stifles empathy. When containing a cancer in those little boxes, when masking the pain of it, empathy becomes near impossible. Since empathy is feeling WITH someone, connecting WITH them by connecting WITH yourself in feelings that are similar, empathy can be painful. …And since it’s human nature to avoid pain, empathy takes choice and effort. Empathy requires cancer (and the feelings so very opposite of “good” “easy” and “common”) not to be boxed up and tucked away, safe on a shelf.

This relief has the potential to create complacency. When assuming a cancer is so easy/good/common that it can be boxed away, safe from pain, safe from the effort of empathy, complacency settles in. For friends and family, this complacency secures that they themselves don’t have to hurt, blinded to the fact that their person is hurting. For the carcinomies, this complacency means their own personal cancer-traumas can stay locked away, further isolating themselves from the very community that is there for them. For the medical professionals, while this complacency can make their hellish job “easier” cuz all they have to do is follow the textbooks and not get as emotionally connected to “this one” because it’s not “that one,” the patient is left wondering if they are actually receiving individualized care or if they have been reduced to merely a statistical value.

And this complacency, which lacks empathy and minimizes a cancer patient/survivor’s cancer, causes a resentment. A rift. A loneliness. It causes misunderstanding and tension. It stunts healing. It undermines hope.

I’ll be honest:

I love my people. My family and friends who have desperately sought their own relief, I get it. I can’t imagine what it would be like to watch a loved one change because of cancer. My carcinomies, cancer-traumas are tragic and sometimes, it’s nice to lock ’em away for awhile. I know because, me too. My medical team(s), you have the hardest job and I imagine the relief is what helps keep you coming back to work day in and day out.

I also want to affect change. The collective “we” needs to stop stating that anything difficult “should be easy” for whatever rationalized reasons “we” come up with. It’s destructive and unhelpful even if intentions are pure. Please, please I beg you, make a change.

Instead of saying these unhelpful and destructive things, you can say any one of the following and get the effect you were going for:
“I’m in this with you.”
“You are not alone. You keep showing up. And I’ll keep showing up, too.”
“This is a big deal and it’s okay to feel all of what you’re feeling. Some days might feel easy. Some days might feel impossible. Every day matters.”
“Talk about it. I’ll listen.”

I woke up today sick to my stomach. A weird sick that isn’t my normal every-day sick. That knot you feel when you’re holding anxiety… That tightness across your chest because you’re unconsciously holding your breath… That extra thumpiness of your heart… The sense that today is different for some reason…

Today is the anniversary of my port placement – a seemingly “easy” procedure. But with monstrous implications.

At no point in anything cancer-related, should complacency occur. And maybe, before you move on from reading today’s post, google what a cancer port is: “chemo port” “power port” “implanted port” should do the trick.

And as always, thank you for reading.

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