cancer – day 101

OK, ok, I concede. I am definitely more emotional now than I used to be. Mostly because it’s so easy to make me cry now. Not at the hard stuff – pain, discomfort, the new unexpected side effects that are really bad but the doctors mention in a list as something simple like, “fingertips tingling.” That stuff has to get REALLY bad to make me cry (which, don’t get me wrong, it has made me cry, especially the first time I had bone pain, it was sooo deep in my spine and unexpected last Wednesday while I was also so nauseous from the smells of cooking dinner that I had to go sit outside in the back yard while Mark cooked some plain rice for me to eat and opened all the windows to air the house out). No, what makes me cry ridiculously easily now are all the little kindnesses I get from so many people, every day.

I’ve spent the last several years of my life with a personal focus on being kind, and trying to be kind to everyone regardless of how they treat me or others, and I’ve had a lifetime of examples of generally unnoticed kindnesses from my Mom (who incidentally is an R.N. – her patients must have just loved her kindness and caring). I see her when she has guests, even just my brother’s family and me at holidays, and how she anticipates everyone’s needs so they don’t even have to ask for something because she brings it in the room at just the moment they would think to ask for it.

It was about four years ago now that I felt like everywhere I looked I saw people being bad to each other for no reason. How many times is it NOT the gate agent’s fault, for example, that a flight is delayed, but you see the person in front of you take their frustration out on the gate agent at the airport? Or heard someone speak sarcastically “down” to a waiter, like he’s some lower class person just because he’s working nights as a waiter (or dance instructor)?

So I’ve been trying to be kind for what seems like a long time now to me but really is nothing in the big scheme of things and how long life is, but aside from trying to think of little ways to be kind like my Mom is, without recognition or realization by the receiver, I’ve never “thought” about it per se. And I certainly never thought about what effect any of that had on other people, if any, except that it felt better to feel like I wasn’t contributing as much to the negativity in the world.

And I’m starting to really believe in the saying that “what goes around comes around.” At least, I hope that’s why I’m on the receiving end of so much kindness now that I am at a loss for words. And so, lacking words, tears come. Usually I manage to keep them to myself, meaning, alone in my office in the very early morning, or like a lot of the last few days with Mark out of town, when I have rest time from all the activity of being “baby-sat.” (Babysitting Cynthia basically involves entertaining me with conversation during a walk or while getting calories into me, though Mark has the singular privilege of also babysitting me while I nap and when I’m throwing up or other awful stuff.)

There were tears today while I talked with Gary for the first time in two weeks (versus texting or e-mail) and had to tell him I don’t think I should be working during chemo because the side effects have been so debilitating and I honestly have such a hard time thinking or getting anything done that I just can’t imagine trying to really work during this. I didn’t want to say it, I wanted to be the dedicated and reliable Cynthia everyone knows professionally who can get things done even through adversity, but that’s just not true of this. I don’t know if that was in my voice or not, but as he was telling me not to worry about it, that Chain will be ok, just make sure he knows what has to happen and they’ll get it covered and I should just take care of myself and my health through this, well, it wasn’t a long conversation with Gary but here’s emotional me afterward with tears streaming down my cheeks and being so thankful that I’ve know Gary and Mike and so many of the Chaingang for so many years through multiple companies so that I feel like they’re my personal friends in additional to our professional relationships. If this had happened while I worked for any of my previous companies, well . . .

Let’s see, then there were more tears while I was talking to Donna, who’s called me every day while Mark’s been away, just to check on me and see how I’m feeling. She even wanted me to go stay at their house Thursday night but I begged off telling her I was ok to stay here alone at night. She had to be behind that card I got from everyone at Tango by the River, with notes in it from more than 45 people wishing me well. And this evening here I was again tears streaming while Donna so politely asked me if it was ok for her to put my name in the prayer list at her church, which she didn’t even have to ask my permission to do but she didn’t want to do it if it made me uncomfortable. I’ve read a lot about the power of intention and really think there’s a lot to be said for “wishing” someone well, and Heaven knows there have been a lot of people doing their darndest to intend or pray me to health. Maybe so much so that it’s the reason chemo is only three months instead of six, who knows, you know?

OK, so the one that put the tears over the top and stopped me in my tracks tonight was a card from a couple whom I’ve only met once or twice; they’re good friends of my Mom and Dad out in Yankton (you know, the little town in South Dakota I didn’t want to go stay in for six months of chemo back when I had that crummy medical oncologist who was going to give me the generic 6-month chemo treatment including the drug that’s bad for my heart). Just seeing who the card was from on the return address made me stop in my tracks in the kitchen, I didn’t even get all the way back to my office. Stopped and had a couple tears, disbelieving that people I’ve only met once or twice would take the time to send me a card in the mail. I didn’t even open it at the time, I set it aside to open later tonight when I was “less emotional.” Yeah right.

How can you not bawl your eyes out when someone writes a letter to tell you what good friends and people your parents are, and how much they talk about what you’re going through and worry about you, and that “your folks have their bags packed ready to roll if you ever need them. . .”

I have a good friend in Atlanta who just had a baby last week and she texted me one day a couple months ago saying I should have a warning on my blog to caution pregnant women to read my blog with tissues handy because it will make them cry. I think at the time the blog was about something about Mark deciding he wanted to be my caregiver, I think. It seems like forever ago. And now she has a baby!! But I remember her texting that now because I don’t think I could read what I’ve written tonight and not cry again. So I’ll not read it again, maybe not for a long, long time, when all of this is over.