Stupid Tumor
I have a good friend that was recently diagnosed with cancer, and let me tell you - the whole thing fucking sucks. I mean, that kind of goes without saying, but I guess I didn’t realize all the other shit that was going to come along with it.
She went to Arizona for treatment last week, and this feeling of helplessness I can’t get rid of is infuriating. Like, I KNOW I can’t be there, and I shouldn’t be there - I KNOW that. I need to be here, and I need to be here when she gets home so I can give her the best hug of her fucking life and we can try and carry one with some shred of normalcy.
So, ok, I feel helpless, big deal - I also feel incredibly guilty.
When I initially learned of her diagnosis and talked to her, I assumed she was going to do exactly what I would do and my job was to give her hugs and tell her everything was going to be fine. It was absolutely going to suck but I’d throw her a hat party, and I’d spend my days off laying on the couch with her watching stupid movies and shopping online. I’d cover those walls she hates so bad so she won’t have to look at them all the fucking time because, if it were me, my moderate distaste for the ugly walls would grow exponentially every day I was stuck in my apartment feeling like shit. Doing those things would make ME feel better if I were in her situation.
She decided to go with a course of treatment that is diet-based and very low dose chemo. It’s a natural, holistic approach to treatment, not covered by insurance, and deemed “dangerous” by her oncologist. It was difficult news to hear.
So, with that said, I have to make an admission - I was pissed.
To be fair, anger is always my first reaction to something I don’t agree with or understand completely. But, I was really upset and was really struggling with the whole thing. Reconciling my feelings about things has never really been one of my strengths. Anger is just so easy.
So the day after she left to go her treatment I had lunch with her husband, who happens to be one of Daniel’s very best friends. He, of all people, asked me how I was doing with the decision. I told him I wasn’t doing well and neither was Daniel, but I wanted to be a supportive friend and someone they could turn to, so I was just going to deal with it on my own - and this is where the guilt comes in. We had a really good and honest talk about it, and I left their apartment that day feeling better than I’d felt since I’d heard the dreaded diagnosis. But, I felt horrible that I had been so narrow minded and selfish, that I was so conditioned for self-preservation that her well-being was not my first concern.
The more I’ve thought about it, I finally realized I don’t give a shit what she does with her treatment as long as she does something. As long as she feels in control of this horrible awful tumor, as long as she’s happy and can smile and laugh - I just don’t give a shit. I can’t. The only decision that’s actually mine here is the one I made when I chose to be her friend, and I’m finally and totally okay with that.
