My friend and former co-worker, Angela, gave me some perspective way early on in this adventure. She has Stage IV rectal cancer and I got to visit her as my first official outing post accident. I knew she'd have a very sterile environment as she is undergoing in-home chemo and doesn't relish the thought of being more sick than she is. I can surely relate, especially since I got that post surgery infection I didn't need.
She shared lots of great insight about perceptions from other folks who mean well. One story cracks me up and I think about it as I travel this bizarre journey. She said she'd go to parties during her early diagnoses and mostly women who didn't know her would approach and very seriously say, "I understand you have cancer." Taken aback, she'd say, "Yes, yes I do." They would cautiously and quietly query, "Breast?", to which she'd respond, "No, rectal" and think to herself, enough already, I don't even know you, do you really want to go there???? Of course, the standard response from well-meaning person would be, "Oh, just like Farrah Fawcett", and in the effort to educate and shock, "No, that was anal cancer, I'm up about 3 inches". She always says that she is trying to make her cancer the sexy one; I say, good luck with that, Ang.
The point is, we know people care and mean well. We know they want to help and don't know how or what to say. That's okay. I get it. My head injury isn't all that evident, especially in the way I write, but it's still there. Let's not dwell on things we can't fix, but look at what we can.
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