Despite cancer’s prevalence, I never thought for a second that my mom would be a part of the 42% of women who develop the disease (Canadian Cancer Society). I always thought that these things happen to other people, people who are older, and unhealthier. People who don’t run half marathons and enjoy beach vacations; people who don’t have three kids and a family who need her; other people who aren’t my mom.
My mom and me this past summer in Cape Cod
My mom’s diagnosis was far from average, as most things are with her. It actually came as a relief. She had suffered from multiple strokes of varying severity without known cause. Eventually, doctors determined that she had an infected heart valve, that they tried without success to cure it with antibiotics. Test after test, scan after scan; then finally we had an answer and the fear of another stroke dissipated as the condition was proven to be linked to a very treatable cancer in her body. She had ovarian cancer, which doctors were able to remove surgically following a few chemo treatments. Though the cancer is gone, she’ll be completing her chemotherapy treatments over the next few months, which takes a toll on the body.
With telling my friends came an infinite amount of “I’m so sorry’s.” Each and every one was totally warranted and expected. With each person I told, I braced for an alarmist reaction that would often leave me feeling as though I should be more concerned than I was. I soon realized the severity of the stigma surrounding the disease which I had neglected to question before my mom’s own diagnosis. Cancer is not a walk in the park, but it is not necessarily a death sentence. This experience has totally changed my attitude towards the disease. I soon realized that the same questions I would have asked and things I would have said are the words that bothered me to hear most. “Is she going to lose her hair?” followed by “Is she going to wear a wig?” triggered eye rolls despite my best effort to be nice and appreciate the misplaced concern. The bald head of most chemotherapy patients confronts people with the disease, and asking about wigs just makes it seem as though cancer makes you uneasy and that they should try to hide their condition for your comfort. As someone whose mom is undergoing chemotherapy, I find questions about how she chooses to present herself to the world to be both insensitive and trivial.
I don’t want to talk about my mom’s cancer all the time, and my mom definitely doesn’t want to talk about her cancer all the time. Though the concern is always appreciated, her illness is not everything. Life is fairly normal. When other people project their aunt’s or their friend’s boyfriend’s cousin’s cancer experiences on to my mom’s, it is not comforting or reassuring because no two forms of cancer are the same, nor are two people’s experience with the disease.
Don’t mistake my exhaustion with the process and people’s attitudes towards the disease with bitterness. My mom was very fortunate to have had strokes which allowed for the early detection of a cancer that often goes unnoticed until it’s too late, for which I am grateful beyond words. The experience has been eye opening, and it has changed my attitude for the better. It has taught me to be more appreciative of everyone in my life and life itself, and has provided a lesson in kindness, sensitivity, and educated me about one very stigmatized disease.
Images are the author’s own.