SURVIVOR’S GUILT

PART TWO   “THE GUILT” 

It seemed necessary to develop a thick skin in order just to survive emotionally.  Those I knew who had Cancer, all experienced surgery.  Either the surgery caused much pain, or the therapy before, after, or during, the cancer was quite excruciating.  This was a frightening occurrence to me, with morbid regularity.  My heart was heavy for each person who met with the “monster.”  It just happened that most of those I knew encountering cancer were women. 

This brought the fear and familiarity even closer, and more imminent.  The feeling of impending doom, or waiting for the other shoe to drop, increased with each yearly mammogram I took.  With this, along came my authentic feeling of cowardice.  I was ashamed of myself for something that had not even happened.  This is an example of what fear of the unknown can do. 

The mental state of fear can change who you are, in your own eyes.  Three days prior to my upcoming mammogram, I discovered a lump in my breast, while taking a shower.  A crazy kind of calm overtook me.  Knowing my usual reaction to be panic, and irrational thought, this time I spoke to myself softly.  “Don’t think about it until you see the doctor, you will then know whether or not to panic.”  Inside there was a certain amount of quiet acceptance.  It was a strange emotion, filled with a kind of numbness, and yet the sensation of knowing it was cancer.  

I knew it meant surgery, I knew it meant terror, but not that day, it would have to wait.   Skipping ahead to after the ultrasound, the biopsy, and three surgeries, the sheer terror no longer reigned.  I had just found out it was a very rare form of cancer. 

After the sequence of three surgeries in as many years, I knew why the pathologist had called me to her office.  Knowing what I knew, I still cried when she told me, in essence, I would not be safe until I had a mastectomy.  At first, it was not called cancer, so I used the name of the type of cancer it was.  This was easier on the ears. 

A subsequent doctors visit, settled the situation for me.  I told him what I had, and what the pathologist told me of its’ behavior.  He looked at me right in the eyes as he said with a question in his voice, “it grows like cancer, returns like cancer, spreads to the lungs like cancer, and will ultimately kill you like cancer?  If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck.”  This he said emphatically.  From then on, I called it cancer.   

My guilt had embedded itself long before this doctor saw me.  My feelings of culpability came as a stranger, but became my constant companion for years.  It still is, and it has been ten years since my first discovery, and lumpectomy.  I can only guess why this visitor arrived.  The only suffering I encountered was of an emotional one.  My loved ones all had physical pain with emotional trauma. 

Some never regained total range of motion; I never lost mine.  Why did a certain number of us need chemo, I did not.  Truth be told, chemo does not have any impact on my special brand of illness.  What is the reason selected people need radiation, I did not, and in fact, radiation is only marginally effective with this type of disease.  I have asked myself for years why I feel I escaped unscathed.  I did not in reality.

  For my peace of mind, I elected to have a bilateral mastectomy.  My breasts were best described as well endowed, full, they preceded me by about three seconds, and yes, you now have the picture.  

Had my medical experiences left me unhurt or undamaged?   If so, then why would this be bad?  Why do people sometimes feel guilty because they don’t suffer as others have, or do?  The answer to this question will have to remain illusive.  I do not have the riposte; this is a quandary.  If I could satisfy this quest, all my darkness could be bright once more.   

Survivors of Concentration camps live with “survivor’s guilt,” why I have always asked myself.  Now I know, because,   that is why,   just because.    Why have I felt shame when calling my disease cancer?  Why do I feel I have cheated someone because I have not experienced unbearable, agonizing, nauseating, and weakening, physical pain?  Have I cheated death?  No, my belief tells me when it is my time; I will go.  If I have cheated death, then I would celebrate, I would not cower and cry.  So just who, or what, have I done” wrong?” 

The answer is obvious.  I am the only victim here, so maybe now I can free myself of these shackles.    For all those of you who have felt any “survivor’s guilt” about anything,   my wish for you is to step out of those chains and celebrate your good fortune.  I believe this is what I am learning to do as of right now.  

Good bye, farewell, so long, au revoir, hasta luego, aloha, sayanora, and shalom, to Survivor’s Guilt.  This entity can only visit, when invited.     DO NOT OPEN THAT DOOR. 

Sweet dreams to you all.   Survivor’s guilt, what is that?  I pray this phenomenon will just be a memory, and not a vivid one at that. 

I am a lay person; all that I have said is my own opinion only.  Survivor’s Guilt, is simply my personal journey, and is in no way a medically, or psychologically proven entity.  This is all from my thoughts alone, with no professional commentary, or observations.

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