Checkup

Saw my oncologist today for another checkup. All was good. That said, I realize my self-image as a cancer survivor seems to be evolving. I no longer feel such a need to tell people about my history although it certainly does come up at times and I still find myself writing poetry about it although I don't always intend to.

I also realize now just how wounded I still felt from the experience even around the time we moved here. Transitioning to a new place and job once again where people didn't know my history made me feel the need to scream it out to everyone, to have them realize that part of who I am was so profoundly shaped by this event I never chose.

I remember passionate urgent feelings. There was this party last year back in Vancouver and this woman there told me she was studying to be a nurse. I asked her what kind and she said she wanted to work on maternity because the patients are happy to be there.

Moments later I found myself saying in a very cocky tone, "Oh really, my impression is that oncology nurses are very well-liked by their patients. I would know..." etc. I remember feeling I was walking into something and the hostess later commented on it that it sounded weird to her.

I felt guilty for bringing up my cancer history as a sort of weapon that night, but later dissected it and didn't feel so bad. I felt so ANGRY to hear this person so innocently misunderstanding how the world really works. After all, as soon as she brought up maternity ward I instantly thought of a good friend of mine who had a stillborn child but then refused to be moved to another ward. SHE wasn't happy to be there.

Look, the world is not pink and happy everywhere. It's filled with grief that makes joy so much more profound and complete. I'm sorry if I was confrontational towards the woman at that party, but I also hope her initiation into the real world isn't too terribly shocking.