I kept my cancer a secret, until it came back a 2nd time
I was diagnosed with DCIS, stage 0, in 2010. There had never been an instance of cancer in my family so aside from being devastated this was happening to me, I felt that I needed to keep this private. I had the support of my wonderful husband, mom, son and best friend but that was all I wanted to have know this. Why? Because I felt tremendous guilt that I was "just stage 0" - meaning I knew so many other women who had a more significant diagnosis - a great friend and mentor to me had been suffering for years, chemo treatment after treatment and was never getting better. How could I "dare" tell her my diagnosis knowing she had it much worse than I? I had a lumpectomy, months of radiation, and plowed thru the treatment hoping to leave it behind me forever.
That all changed in 2013 when I went back for a routine mammogram. The cancer was back and I had no choice but to have a double mastectomy. Still, I was feeling "guilt" because I did not have cancer in the lymphnodes. I would not require chemo. Again, the guilt started to pile on until I finally said NO, dammit! I am going through things, this is going to be painful, I have a treatment road ahead that I need to get through. I started to tell all of my family as a precautionary tale. Reminding them to get their annual exams and encouraging other women I found out were recently diagnosed. It was such a relief to let that go and be open to talking about it.
I'm so glad this forum exists so we don't have to hide anymore. This will be a community of support and I'm hopeful everyone takes advantage of the resources here. 😊
I relate to what you said about feeling guilty about not having chemo. I always feel like I have to say "but I didn't have chemo," especially after someone I know who DID have chemo said a few things that let me know that she considered my experience less than hers. I am really grateful that I didn't have chemo, but there are many aspects to a cancer journey, and the treatment is only part of it. Some of us may have had a harder road in treatment, but others may have had a harder time financially or in our marriage or with our children or with our mental health, etc. It's human nature to compare but we shouldn't assume we know the whole picture.
Brene Brown uses the term "comparative suffering." She writes that "fear and scarcity immediately trigger comparison, and even pain and hurt are not immune to being assessed and ranked.
My husband died and that grief is worse than your grief over an empty nest.
I’m not allowed to feel disappointed about being passed over for promotion when my friend just found out that his wife has cancer.
You’re feeling shame for forgetting your son’s school play? Please—that’s a first-world problem; there are people dying of starvation every minute.
The opposite of scarcity is not abundance; the opposite of scarcity is simply enough. Empathy is not finite, and compassion is not a pizza with eight slices. When you practice empathy and compassion with someone, there is not less of these qualities to go around. There’s more. Love is the last thing we need to ration in this world. The refugee in Syria doesn’t benefit more if you conserve your kindness only for her and withhold it from your neighbor who’s going through a divorce. Yes, perspective is critical. But I’m a firm believer that complaining is okay as long as we piss and moan with a little perspective. Hurt is hurt, and every time we honor our own struggle and the struggles of others by responding with empathy and compassion, the healing that results affects all of us.”