As you've already discovered, something happens to people when you get sick. Those around you who either love you or want to get to know you now that you're a "C"-lebrity also develop their own unique disease and it develops way back in the lower regions of the brain. I call it oversympathitus.
You recognize the disease right away. These are the people that have something special just for you every time they see you. It usually comes in the form of an encouraging book, a mind setting phrase you need to repeat to yourself daily to fight of your disease, or (my favorite) a cancer fighting recipe book filled with high amounts of antioxidants and horrible taste.
I'll never forget then woman who lovingly showed up at our house with a homemade yogurt that she guaranteed would kill the disease. I placed it next to a mound of well intentioned books I'd received and a stack of "Gospills" my grandma had sent me (more on that another time).
Don't get me wrong, I was and am still grateful for all of those who prayed for and supported me through my battle as I know you are as well but at some point don't you just want people to stop trying so hard and remember that under all those iv's and hospital gowns you're sporting these days, there is the same person they once knew, back when you had hair.
But before you get too annoyed by these well-meaning over achievers in the sympathetic arts, remember that it's not their fault. They care about you and don't know exactly what to do to help. Sure you and I know the best thing they can do is just to treat you like a normal person who happens to turn green after each doctors appointment but that isn't as easy as it seems. So help them out. Here's what I did.
My personality, which you already know if you follow me on twitter or read much of this blog, is what you might call, sarcastic or, I prefer, fun. So I used it to my advantage. Whenever I just needed to feel normal and remind people that they could be normal around me I would remind them in a bold way of who I was underneath the cancer.
One time I had about 15 friends show up at my house after I had been released from the hospital for what I think was the third time. They had been there for about an hour but it was quiet and boring. No one knew what to say and when they tried to speak it was very awkward. In their defense, I was bald, kinda green looking, and had a just spent time in the hospital from a random bug bite. I came up with a plan to breathe ice.
At that moment the phone rang and before anyone could move to get it I shot out of my seat. "I'll get it!" I said, and I headed towards the kitchen. I took three steps, let my eyes roll back in my head, allowed my body to go limp and collapsed to the floor. The crowed swarmed as someone yelled for my parents and someone else shouted, "Is he gone!?"
I quickly jumped to my feet and said, "Nope, I'm right here, but you'd miss me if I was!" Some laughed while others were a little mad but from that moment on we stopped focusing my sickness and talked about normal things.
I'm not telling you to do this and I'm not suggesting that freaking people out is the answer to every situation (it did work a lot for me though). But I am saying I get it. You love the support but sometimes you feel like you're doing the supporting rather than what it is meant for. But Cheer up and remember this: they may be awkward but they are there. They may not know what to say but at least they want to speak to you. I've known many survivors of our battle who didn't have the people there for them like you or I do and trust me, it's a lot worse than sympathizers who try to hard. So again I say cheer up cause you are not alone.
And if you feel alone let me know cause wether I know you or not, I care. I wouldn't be blabbering on if I didn't
