As the fates might have it, a mere month and a half (whoa...it hasn't felt like that long) since my diagnosis, my grandmother received a diagnosis for breast cancer. I got an e-mail from her immediately saying she sees my testicle and raises me a breast...I couldn't love my family more.
So, I have company, and although I won't print any of what her e-mail said (as she told me not to, and I assume she still has the ability to put me in a time out), I will say she shares my love of laughing at the absurdity of all of this...from the complete exposure and lack of modesty you get baring your private parts at doctors as they furrow their brows and nod knowingly to the invasive surgeries and complete disruption receiving a cancer diagnosis brings to your life.
One thing that I will never get over in all of this is how people don't know how to react to news that someone they know has cancer. I can't blame them...until I was put in this situation, I didn't know either, and quite frankly I don't think there is a correct response. So many people, however, come up to you to talk about it and whisper the word "cancer" like you can get it if you say it at full volume. It's the unknown for them, and they're concerned. That's always touching, but it's a little bit funny that the word is always whispered.
From some of the first phone calls to friends, I found it funnier and funnier having to tell them about my own diagnosis.
Friend: Hey man, what's happening.
Me: Not much, what's going on?
Friend: Nothing. I just got a dog.
Me: Cool. I just got cancer.
Friend: Awesome. Wait, are you serious?
Me: Serious as my left nut.
It's a surreal experience. There's no correct way to respond, and no correct way to tell people. It's all just a big, weird mess of a situation...so I resulted in telling people the oddest way I could. I'd have somebody pressing me as to why I missed a meeting and I'd tell them I came down with "a slight case of cancer." Or I'd have somebody saying they heard I was in surgery and I'd tell them it was to have a cancerous testicle remove and make a joke about my insurance company only approving for me to go to a vet ("Now, that's half the cost of a neutering, right?").
When the chaotic happens, you aren't left with a lot of choices. You can awkwardly share the news with friends and loved ones and have them stand there in shock not knowing how to react, or you can joke around about it and allow them to stand there in shock not knowing how to react. Either way, it's a weird situation to deal with.
Knowing my grandmother (which is weird to type, because I've always called her "Nana"), and talking with her back and forth via e-mail since she got the news, I'm finally in a position where I know what she's going through and how awkward it is to tell everyone. So, I suggested that we get both of our removed cancerous parts, dip them in bronze and make some sort of a new-age lamp out of it. Being an interior decorator, I'm sure she's on board with the idea.
My "Nana" is one of the most outgoing, social, funniest people out there, and I know she's going to handle this "tough of cancer" with the same flawless grace she handles everything else...and it's going to be easier now with both of us knowing that each of us is going through the same thing.
I'm already a month and a half into this whole ordeal, so I've got a little bit of a lead on her, but still, I'm glad to now have another "cancer buddy" that isn't afraid to laugh with me about something most people won't say out loud at full volume. This is going to be a completely new experience for the both of us, but I know we're going to come out of it with some great stories, great scars and a completely new perspective. That's almost worth going through this in the first place. Almost.
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