Back when I had cancer, there was no Facebook, no blogging, no Twitter. There was no easy public outlet for my fears and emotions, no simple connector. There were only real people, real conversations, and a high school-aged girl with cancer, unable to express herself through spoken word.
I’ve been humbled and gratified by the support I’ve been getting from all of you since I announced this cancer scare last week. Illness is many horrible things, but it does have one wonderful side-effect: it’s a great connector. Cancer, especially, is a connector, because everyone either knows someone who had it, or had it themselves.
By myself, I’m not such a great connector. Case in point: when I started writing about cancer, I got several responses from people I went to high school and college with, basically saying, “I had no idea!” Obviously these weren’t the friends I hung out with regularly, the ones who visited me in the hospital and sent cards and flowers. But they were people I was friendly with, who said hi to me in hallways and sat near me in band. Why didn’t they know?
The short answer is: Cancer or no cancer, I’m an introvert. My instincts are always to keep things to myself. Fears and emotions often have to be pried out of me; writing seems to be the only way I can release it all, and I hadn’t yet discovered my passion for it back then.
The longer answer is: I was in high school. No one in high school wants to stand out; all everyone wants is to fit in (especially a shy, nerdy music geek like me). The last thing I wanted was for people to talk about me, point at me, know things about me. And I mostly managed to pull it off. My parents made sure I didn’t miss much school; my surgeries and treatments always took place either in the summers or during the semester break in January. I didn’t have chemo, so I never lost my hair. I looked pretty normal, in fact, if a bit pale and thin. There were times, in preparation for treatments, that I shuffled through the day tired and brain-fogged (due to lowered thyroid medication) and wasn’t able to eat the usual cafeteria food (due to a special low-iodine diet). (PS: Iodine is in EVERYTHING.) But only my close friends noticed that, and I didn’t feel the need to broadcast it further.
My teachers always knew, of course- my mother wrote them each a note about it every year. While I found it embarrassing to be singled out even in private, I still remember the ones who offered me small kindnesses: the AP American history teacher who gave me a care package with history jokes and a teasing reminder to watch the State of the Union during a January treatment; a favorite English teacher who wrote me letters and cards even after I wasn’t her student anymore; my music teaching idol, who moved back seating auditions so that I could have time to prepare after my hospital stay.
Looking back, I think I’m glad that I was able to stay under the radar. People with cancer attract attention in any community, but none more so than a high school. I’m glad I was able to avoid being “the girl with cancer.”
But I’m equally glad now to have people know, through this blog, through Facebook, through all the networks I belong to, both real and virtual. Because I’m not good at making connections. But cancer is. And I’m grateful for all the support and encouragement I can get.
