Dirty Little Secret

A friend of mine commented on Facebook that she had no idea that I was dealing with yet another cancer issue these last few months.

The truth of that matter is that no one did except me.

Once the diagnosis was confirmed I told my boss at work, and a few coworkers. I felt that was probably the responsible thing to do since I kept having to duck out for lengthy doctor appointments that I would need coverage for.

Somewhere along the way I told my brother, just in case things went real sideways, I thought someone in the family should know. And then eventually I told my youngest sister.

So, until the week of my surgery, besides myself and the doctors, the number of people that knew I had skin cancer could be counted on one hand.

"Well, it's just skin cancer," is not a response I would hold against anyone. It is just skin cancer, and in a lot of ways that's been my approach to it. Get in, cut it out. If it's not more complicated than that, then in the grand tapestry of cancers, it's pretty basic. So why turn it into anything more dramatic?

In hindsight, I'll admit to not going about informing the people closest to me in the best way possible. Considering every one of them was pretty much a phone conversation with me saying "I have a melanoma, they're going to take me into surgery and cut it out. I'll call you when I'm done."

I told my mother three days before it was set to happen, I told my dad the morning of. I told my best friend the night before, which is the one I feel the worst about (for so many reasons I won't get into here and now). There are still close friends and family that, unless they stumble upon me writing about, or have been told by someone else, still don't know. And I imagine they'll be pissed when they find out.

All I can say to that is, I'm sorry.

The first time I had cancer I didn't get to be in charge of how and when people knew about it. Instead I woke up in a bed to all kinds of sentiments ("Don't scare me like that" being a pretty common one, to which I always wanted to respond with a big middle finger). And sentiments are nice, and they're appreciated, but in the long run they don't do anyone a damn bit of good.

Just as bothersome can be the people who absolutely do care about you and just want to know you're okay, or if you need anything. Again, those are good people to know and have in your life. But unless they're single with almost zero responsibility, asking anything of them is you taking their time away from things that are, for them, just as important. Inevitably guilt will set in, and then you're left holding that.

It can be a devastating thing to see the toll your sickness has on the lives of people around you. Even if it's little things, it sticks with you.

So, I made a choice. Maybe (probably) a bad one. But it's one I'd probably make again.