TumorPalooza Tour
So today is the big day; the day family, friends, co-workers, and other assorted people will gather together to celebrate the end of my chemo/radiation. You know, the end of chemo/radiation seemed like such a big deal (that I thought we should have a party to celebrate it) last week, but seems less so this week. I guess the “novelty” of NOT having to go to the hospital every day wears off as quickly as the novelty of HAVING to go to the hospital every day wore off.
The last couple of days I have lamented to friends that I am “stressing” (not terribly, but a little) about not having enough crabs or shrimp. Universally, I’ve been told: (a) there will be plenty of food, as everyone coming will bring something; (b) you warned people that the crabs will go quickly; and (c) that this party is NOT about the food, it’s about me.
On the one hand, I really appreciate how much support I have received from everyone. It helps make me feel loved and cared for, and it has helped reduce the sting of this whole cancer thing tremendously. When my friends and family ask how I am doing these days, it is not done perfunctorily, but rather it is born out of a real desire to see how I am doing; and for that I am grateful to each and every one of you.
On the other hand is the shy, self-deprecating Merle, who continues to have difficulty accepting the compliments people give me as I fight this disease. This past week, I met with my supervisor at work for my mid-year evaluation. In my self-eval, I said I was fully successful in everything (only in part because I have been worrying about my cancer for the last 3 months). During our meeting, Kathleen used words like “amazing” and “incredible” to describe the fact that I continued to work as I fight my battle. Other people, having read this blog and found out all the things I do (work, photography, karate, scouts, church, etc.), similarly use glowing adjectives to describe me.
When I hear these praises, though, I tend to discount them as people being (overly) kind, as people not knowing the “real” Merle, as things people say to someone with cancer to make them feel better (though, truth be told, I have been unable to graciously accept most compliments for much of my life). I think this inability, though, grows out of being fat as a kid and never quite feeling as if I fit in. As a kid in middle and high school, I had to be (at least in my mind) gregarious and funny to convince people to like me. I think, to some extent, that continues today.
I realize this is something I need to work on, and I am trying to get better. Unfortunately, what I am getting better at is externalizing the accepting behavior (e.g., when someone pays me a compliment, I am better at saying “Thank you”). Unfortunately, I think I have a long way to go until I get better at internalizing the acceptance.
All of this to say that, while I am looking forward to partying with folks tonight, there’s a part of me that knows it will be difficult as undoubtedly people will be saying positive things about me. Perhaps this will be a good experience of immersion therapy.
Merle