Cancer Pt. 4

Now What?

Tonight I was lying on my floor having the same thought that I regularly spend time dwelling over: what now?

It has been a month and a half since my final cancer surgery. Medically I know what my future holds, many many tests, but what about every other aspect of my life? I try to tell myself nothing has changed; I’m still the same Shelby. If I could have it my way then my cancer would be tucked away with my ex’s. It would be put on a shelf to collect dust and all my true friends would know to never mention it around me ever again. It’s this mindset that makes writing part four of my cancer story so hard. I promised myself I would never let cancer define me. I don’t want to spend much time talking about it because I hated it. I hated the time it took from me. I hated how sick it made me. I hated how worried it made the people I love. Though most of all I hate how other people see me. People who really know me, who I speak to often, have been more than amazing. I’m pretty sure most of them actually forgot at this point that I ever had cancer, or at least they are acting as if that is the case. These are the people who know me well, I don’t even have to ask them to not mention it and they don’t treat me any different. The people who I run into on the street or at some kind of social gathering, they are keeping me from going out, from going to parties, from seeing people. Most people I don’t know well or haven’t seen in awhile when trying to talk to me act as if I’m about to cough blood on them or are worried I will burst into tears. I promise you neither of those things will happen. If though, the coughing blood thing does happen, please call 911. Maybe they act this way because seeing someone so young deal with something so huge reminds them of their own mortality (that’s selfish, I’m the one who could of died, not you) or maybe they just don’t know what to say. Whatever the reason is why normal people have suddenly become so socially awkward around me, I have to tell you it hurts like hell. Every time it happens I feel as if I’ve been put into some kind of “other” category. There are the healthy people that you can talk to about work and relationships and then there are the “other” people that you bust out your biggest puppy eyes for just before you lean in for an awkward hug and say with a fake, high pitched sympathetic voice “how are you?” I have experimented with two replies to this question. One reply I am really bubbly and express how I’m great and everything is fine. The other reply I am a bit down and say something about how it’s hard and I get tired easily, but it will be better soon. Both replies are equally true and both yield the same response from who ever asked it. They look uncomfortable, as if they have run out of polite conversation, and they walk away.

When I was diagnosed there were many things people didn’t warn me about. One of them being I would lose my entire personality and all interests. Maybe no one warned me about that because that never happened. I’M STILL THE SAME PERSON. Yes I took a vacation from the working world and my social life, but I didn’t lose my eyes or sense of hearing. If someone is recovering from any major surgery or going through cancer treatment chances are they have been watching a lot of movies and reading a lot of books. Instead of your fake sympathetic polite small talk you could replace it with these simple questions: “have you seen any good movies?” or “have you read any good books?” Then you could do what two people in a social situation usually do, you can have a conversation. This way you don’t look like an asshole and someone in my situation doesn’t feel like they are a poor, sick cancer patient no one wants to deal with.

So, what now? Do I lock myself in my apartment until everyone forgets I had cancer? No, I don’t have air conditioning. I need to leave my apartment to find air conditioning. Why am I even obsessing over this. I have much bigger things on my plate. Like, will I ever find a job? How the hell am I supposed to date? Will my hair, the only thing I ever liked about my physical appearance grow back properly? Will I regain my confidence? Will the cancer come back?

I know I sound like I’m whining, probably because I am. But fuck it I had cancer and if I have learned anything over the past few months it doesn’t matter if I whine or am optimistic, you will give me the same fake sympathetic smile and walk away as soon as possible. And it’s because of this that no, I will not come to your party. Instead I will spend time lying on my floor wondering “what now?”

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