A few days ago I was sitting at the clubhouse watching tennis and, I hate to admit it, eavesdropping on the conversation at the table next to me. I know, shame on me but I couldn't help myself. A group of women were all chatting and laughing loudly when one mentioned "Ginny" and the volume significantly dipped down to a whisper. At this point my ears perked up and I had to focus to find out what was with "Ginny" when I heard the word, cancer. What I gathered was she resides here and now has the dreaded C word. Hushed tones murmured through the group and I missed most of what transacted but it led me to another thought about that crappy word.
Why is the subject so difficult to talk about--at least above a whisper level? All I can say is, please stop. Do not talk behind our backs. Engage us while we fight on. Find out what we need and what you can do so it doesn't seem like the horrible boogie man at our door.
Ask me questions. Our good friend, Bob, whom we haven't seen since last March, visited us the other night, embraced me and immediately wanted to know everything I was doing to keep going. I found myself sharing with him things that I would like others to know but no one has asked. It felt good to verbalize how I'm tackling this whole business and he seemed to have a sixth sense of knowing exactly what to ask and how to respond.
I have not yet shared my health issues with our new friends out here in the desert. How will they react? Will they back away or embrace me with knowing exchanges saying, we've been there or know someone who has? One side of me wants them to get to know me without the cancer label.
I'll have to sit on this for a while longer before I announce it since, according to people who do know tell me I look maaaarrrrvelous (thanks, Billy Crystal), and how in the world could I have cancer?
Thanks for reading #83 of 7777.
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