When I was released from the hospital, I never stayed away for long. I had follow-up visits and check-ups with specialists weekly. The healthier I became and the more progress I made, the less frequent the visits became. One visit I particularly never looked forward to was with the Behavioral Oncologist.
Not that I'm opposed to talking to someone, but I've never found talking to anyone other than my friends or family helpful. I went into these visits optimistic. I really hoped to get comfort, find a connection or feel enlightened in some way, but it just never happened.
One day, my doctor announced that she had a great idea. She had a few patients, like myself, who were dealing with infertility, and she thought bringing us together for a group session would be beneficial. I immediately wanted to run. However, being put on the spot, I think I instead said something like, "suuuurre....."
Secretly, I hoped that it would never work out. I figured that arranging all of our schedules would pose too difficult. Or I could conveniently have a "prior engagement." Much to my surprise, however, 6 weeks later when I walked into her office, there was another woman in the room. Fiddlesticks.
This woman was similar in age to me and she had cancer. She hadn't been married as long as me and had found out she had cancer after she was married. And then found out she couldn't have children. I could definitely relate. She was also having a difficult time dealing with the the fact that she wouldn't be able to provide children for her husband. And at this time, it didn't seem as though they were exploring other options.
This was something to which I didn't relate. As soon as the doctors said it was risky for me to have children, my husband said we would adopt. Without hesitation and without a blink of an eye. I guess I take for granted how strong our bond is, how much he cares for me, and how in sync we are with our family planning. We will have a family. And where there's a will, we'll find a way.
When the doctor would attempt to bring me into the conversation, I would feel guilty for having a healthy relationship with my husband and his full support. I really didn't want to say much. She was trying to force things out of me. My only response was something along the lines of: "the doctors don't advise me to have children but we've accepted it. We'll adopt. I'm really just happy to be alive; I could have died. I'm trying to focus on life right now. Once the doctors have all the answers and we know what we're dealing with, we'll make sure that they don't change their stance. If they still advise against pregnancy, we'll take the next steps when we're ready."
The other woman in the room did not have the same outlook. She talked about her sister-in-law who'd just revealed her pregnancy. She was angry with her. She felt that it was wrong that her sister-in-law didn't take her feelings into account knowing she couldn't have children. Her voice rose the more she talked. The doctor asked if she needed to increase her medication. I felt like I was violating doctor/patient confidentiality, even though we'd both agreed to this. I was tricked! I didn't want to be there! She talked about her anxiety and anger. She talked about how upset she got when she saw babies that sometimes she wanted to punch them. Hold up. Rewind. Red flag! Now, I assume this was a (poor) attempt at humor, but, punching babies? Really? Get. me. out. of. there!
Again, I felt guilty for not sharing the same feelings as this sad, angry woman. I had sympathy for her but I didn't share her feelings or respond to life or the lemons thrown my way similarly. In fact, my best friend had just given birth to her second child and I was thrilled I was able to be at the hospital when her son was born. Sure, there may have been a tiny voice of doubt, wondering, "will this ever happen for me?" But that is exactly what the Chaplain had prayed with me about. Her message, forever emblazoned on my wrist: don't look left; don't look right; look straight ahead.
Now, let me be the first to say, I'm no Saint. And I'm not judging the woman that was in that room with me. If anything, I was confused as to why I was there. She was distressed and needed to talk with her doctor. I'm not going to say it's easy to stay positive. It's something I work at every day. Every. Single. Day. I'm an inherently pessimistic person who's realized that being pessimistic is draining. I try to think positive. I wish it came natural to me but it doesn't. I'm also inherently anxious. Once I accepted this, and learned to deal with my anxiety, thinking positive has gotten easier.
Another thing that is unique about me is my perseverance. I've been forced to face adversity my whole life. You name it, and I've probably encountered it. When I was younger and less mature, I didn't deal with obstacles or disappointments in life well. I'm very sensitive. I remember crying for hours. But what did that change? Nothing. Feeling sorry for myself changed nothing. Worrying changed nothing. I've matured and realized that the quicker I accept the things I can't change, the happier I'll be. Isn't that a line from the Lord's Prayer? : ) Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.
I hope that woman accepts her fate and finds some peace.
Needless to say, I no longer see the Behavioral Oncologist.
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