You Look Mahvelous!

My husband asked me if it bothered me when people tell me how good I look. Seems like a strange question doesn’t it? That’s because it’s my perception that people expect me to look like a holocaust survivor just because I have inoperable and incurable cancer.

I should at this point introduce you to my type of cancer. I have lung cancer, I have known this since that horrible day in January 2014. I am 23 months into this journey. My cancer is called small cell carcinoma. Sometimes it is called an oat cell tumor as it appears like grains of oats. It is inoperable. My explanation is that sometimes you have heard about people who have been “opened up and it spread everywhere”, well that is what I have. If they attempt to remove my tumor, most likely it will break apart and spread to other parts of my body. In time it will spread, that is my future. Until that time I live with a ticking time bomb in my chest.

I can do most everything as before and my weight loss is minimal, I don’t have sunken eyes, gaunt features and other physical indications of a terminal disease. So my friends and other people who meet me tell me constantly how good I look. This is a welcomed greeting, but does it bother me? It does remind me about my situation, it makes me feel strange that my disease is not evident, a blessing, but a curse also. There are times in which I wonder if people think I am lying, faking my situation. I know this is ridiculous, but my husband can tell my discomfort. A dear friend of mine asked me what stage my cancer is, I again felt as if I should apologize that my cancer is only a stage 1B. I explain that It is rare for someone to be diagnosed at this early stage.

Some people avoid me either because I might be contagious or they just don’t know what to say. Don’t pity me, just treat me like anybody else. Anybody with a sickness wants to be treated as normally as possible. We worry enough in our own minds; that we do not need to think about what everyone else is worrying or wondering about. Do not think that I am not welcoming questions, I am open to talking about Adoph.

Some people think I should be working, I wish I could work, I miss work so much. Even as I write this I am sitting in my physician’s office. A friend of mine is in the office and I can see her at her computer making calls dealing with patients, chatting with them, trying to ease their anxiety. On days that I have no appointments or other engagements it is a long day waiting for my husband to come home from work. I worked in tax, payroll, and bookkeeping. As I have short term memory loss working in such a field might not be feasible. I have applied for work in a store and as a person making food, both applications were not successful. I disclose my medical situation, which does cause concern for direct contact with the public. When an employer hires someone, in most cases they are looking for the long term, steady employee, of that I cannot make any promises.

So my dear friends, continue to shower me with compliments. I adore it. But do not be afraid of honest conversations about my disease, I suspect that anyone with a serious illness wants to discuss their situation. It makes it much easier to deal with a situation if you are not alone. It makes it much easier to deal with a disease if you know that in the dark of night, someone is on the other end of the telephone.

I have a wonderful group of friends, people I have “collected” as I have made my way through life. I care so very much about each and every one of you. You know how much I love you, and I will continue to love you as the days go by, as the clock continues to tick it’s way towards my destination. It is so much easier to head towards that destination because I have the love of my dear friends.

Again, don’t be afraid to tell me how marvelous I look.

 

 

Cindy McIntire

About Cindy McIntire

Cindy is a lifelong resident of Waldo County, she is a wife and mother of three adult children. She was diagnosed with small cell carcinoma in her left lung in January 2014. Statistically only 2% of the people who are diagnosed with this disease survive more than 5 years. After trying to find literature written by others in her situation, Cindy chose to write this blog, in hopes that it may serve as a rough trail map for those who may follow.