The Vine: July 28, 2010
Hello —
I guess I am writing because I am hoping to get some tips in how to best handle my relationship with my parents. A brief (I hope) background: I am an only child and have always been close to my parents and my family.
About six weeks ago I went in for (in retrospect) a very minor abdominal day surgery. While taking care of problem A, they found an unexpected (but easily addressed) problem B which led to the discovery of the problem C — cancer. It was a complete and utter fluke (and a really amazing doctor) that it was both found and diagnosed.
The type I have is not often found/diagnosed and has more syllables than my tongue likes to trip over. Luckily, it was found early, and I have been hooked up with a great oncologist. There are a couple downsides: the surgery I will have to get everything removed is a real monster (1-week hospital stay, min.), the chemo treatment has only been used in this situation for the past 5-10 years (but with great results so far!) and will very likely compromise my fertility (which I am already addressing). If this was all, I think I would be fine (believe it or not). I am getting tons of support from my friends and family, which is a blessing.
My difficulty is my parents.They truly want to help in any way they can — and they have been amazing with (much-needed) financial support. However, it is starting to feel like they are second-guessing my choices — demanding to meet and grill my oncologist because they are not happy with the fact that there are no guarantees, not believing me when I tell them/email them/show them the path report of my diagnosis, telling me that I need to be able to travel 4 hours no more than two weeks after the date of operation, that I need to stop being robotic, that I need to stop crying…
I am doing my best, as they are theirs, and I am trying to make this as easy as possible for them. I am just worried that all of this gulping down of my feelings and not saying anything to them when I am feeling unheard will damage our relationship in the long run. If we had the time, I would suggest we sit down, talk, and create clear boundaries. But it just isn’t there. We are on a very tight timeline (10 days to get fertility financed, two weeks after that to get it taken care of, five weeks until massive surgery) and there are absolutely no guarantees on what they might actually be facing/have to remove once the surgery begins. That I am about 200 miles away from them probably doesn’t help.
I have been trying to stay calm and remind myself that they are behaving out of love so any advice you can give on how I can get through this next month would be greatly appreciated.
One foot in front of the other
Dear Foot,
The very best of luck to you, and please check in to let us know how you’re doing, if you’re able to.
The first thing to do is to put yourself in your parents’ shoes. You’re their only child, you’re very sick, you’re sick in a way they know nothing about and can’t fix (or even hug you, since you don’t live close by), you’re facing a dangerous surgery followed by chemo, and you said it yourself: no guarantees. Imagine how they feel — sucker-punched, terrified, out of control. Imagine if it were your child, or your friend. Or if it were them.
This isn’t to say that you have to take time out of your own nonstop coping to behave like a saint towards them, but reminding yourself that, to them, whether consciously or otherwise, “controlling” equals “helpful” or “effective” will allow you to let it go. Not let it happen, necessarily; you should do what you think is best vis-Ã -vis your treatment, your team of caregivers, and so on, but you don’t have time for resentments and it’s not healthy to keep them anyway. “I understand and have compassion for this behavior even though I’m not letting it change my own. Next!”
The second thing to do is to permit a certain amount of bossing and interference to keep the peace, then do what you think is best anyway. Rehearse bits like, “I’d love for [irrelevantly degreed friend of a friend from bridge club] to look at my x-rays and tell you what she thinks. Thanks so much for thinking of that. We don’t have a lot of time, though, so while she’s doing that, I’m going to proceed with the opinion of [doctor pertinent to the case] for the time being. Let me know what FoF says. Next!” “The treatment I’ve chosen probably seems scary, but I’ve done my research and I feel confident it’s the best one for me. …Sure, I’ll read [reams of WebMD material about crystals]; maybe there’s something there. Thanks so much for sending that along. [deleting] Love you too. Next!”
One of the toughest parts of the situation for both you and your parents is that, even if they weren’t second-guessing you, even if you did think they knew better and let them run your file, it’s still cancer and nobody can make promises. There are, no doubt, sobbing jags outside your hearing in which they wail about how much they hate that, and again, I’m not suggesting that they get medals for sparing you what’s really going on in their hearts. They’re trying to cope, and they’re trying to cope for you, too; you can sympathize with that, but you don’t have to let it control your treatment or become a distraction. Let it go when you can, and when you can’t, remind them that it’s your call, and end the conversation gently.
See you on the other side! (Of the surgery, not The Other Side. Heh. Email me.)
Hey, Sars! Several years ago you gave me some good grammar advice — and a copy of Garner’s to boot — during a Valentine’s Day giveaway. I was “Peon with a Pointy-Haired Boss.”
I just read your response to Cait in the June 23 column. It motivated me to follow up on a piece of advice you frequently give, and to throw the weight of my experience behind that advice. The advice is that you should cut off communication with someone when you’ve broken up, if you’re still hung up on the person.
When I was 22, senior year of college, I was madly in love with a guy I now refer to as “The Rat Bastard.” The story is too long, and the time is too distant, to go into much detail. In a nutshell, he made it very clear our relationship wasn’t going anywhere, since I was the wrong faith and he wasn’t looking to marry at 23, but I refused to believe it. Even though we ended up in separate cities after college, I spent over a year and a half talking to him on the phone constantly, with calls going both ways. I even visited him once in his new city, and we had terrible sex (the “you’re here, so we might as well” kind that feels crappy afterward).
After a year and a half, I finally realized on my own that I needed to cut him off — the advice you so often give young (and older!) women who write to you. The calls, the letters, the visit — all of it was conspiring to make me keep hoping that if I just did something right, he would decide he wanted to be with me after all. I felt that there was no way I could love him so much without him loving me back. Typing it now makes me snort at myself in disgust, but many of us have been there, which is why so many read your column!
Anyway, I cut him off — no more letters, no more calls. And I started to heal. But — and I don’t say this lightly — I really never got over it. Let me clarify: I got over him, but I never got over “it,” the humiliation, the want, the pain, the desperation, the self-doubt. I never, never wanted to feel that way again. And so I really never dated. Attempted dates with miscellaneous guys ended badly when some joke would offend me and fire up the same fears. I rarely find myself attracted to men, and the couple of times it’s happened have gone nowhere.
I’m in my late 30s now, so the history is distant indeed. I saw a shrink at age 30 and again around 35. I dealt with some pretty profound “why me” depression — no man, no kid, no house.
A few years ago, I decided that being without a man shouldn’t keep me from having any of my dreams, and I became a single mother by choice. (That’s a whole ‘nother letter and set of experiences.) It has completely changed my life. I am so grateful for my child every day. I work steadily, make a decent income, and basically live a life that I love. I have great friends, and my family has been very supportive and loving toward both of us. I smile all the time!
But…
Life, Sars, is hard. And, in my late 30s, I have to pay all my bills, do all the errands, keep going in the face of illness, stay positive and engaged with my kid, do all the cooking, keep up at my job, etc., etc., etc. My little one is now starting to ask “daddy” questions, and I cheerfully explain about different kinds of families, while inside feeling crappy. I’m glad I had this opportunity to be a mom, and I’m incredibly glad to have this specific wonderful child, who is the result of a specific series of choices and events. But I envy all the friends who are able to stay at home with the kids and/or who have husbands who contribute and who just love their kid.
So, you know, to bring it back around, holding onto that relationship for such a long time did apparently permanent damage to my psyche. I wonder what might have been if I had watched The Rat Bastard drive off after graduation and not spent formative time — almost two years, really — pining over him and hating myself, letting what was essentially a wound fester. I’ve grown into a whole person again, but it’s a very different person that I might have been. And that bad experience still has an effect, all these years later.
Use this letter if you like, or just take it as more evidence for the greatness of your advice. Thanks!
An Older, Wiser Mommy
Dear Older,
Thank you — I think — but it’s time to stop beating yourself up for holding onto false hope back then. Everyone does it, a lot of people never figure it out like you did, and it’s true that you’ve become a very different person from what you might have otherwise…but that’s true for all sorts of reasons. It’s true because you chose to become a single mom. It’s true because of where you live, wherever that may be.
You’ve chosen to fixate on, and blame (yourself for), that period of your life for the fact that your life is challenging, and it surely played its role, but everyone’s life is challenging. Staying at home with the kids has its own set of issues. Marriage has its own tests. Envy is normal, feel free to indulge, but you need to stop thinking that everyone else you know is lounging around eating bon-bons, and start congratulating yourself for building the life you wanted — so that you can enjoy that life with no regrets. And maybe add a daddy to it, who knows. Or not. Also fine.
We all do self-defeating shit. Continuing to let it defeat you years after it’s all said and done is no good. Yeah, you should have let that dude drive off; I did the same thing at the same age with two different dudes, and it took me nearly ten years to shake the second one fully, but it can’t be helped now.
Don’t think of yourself as a cautionary tale. It’s quite the opposite.
Dear Sars,
So of course it’s about a boy. He is lovely, handsome, smart, driven, pretty much every thing I’ve ever wanted, except for one thing: he’s in a long-term relationship of five years and has said he plans to marry his girlfriend (but is not yet engaged).
We work together, and he and his girlfriend are doing long-distance right now, as she lives in a different city. I was pretty sad to find out he had a girlfriend, but had resigned myself to being just friends with him and trying to get over it any way I could.
I was not succeeding, and that was my own problem, except he made it just a bit more difficult: one night he kissed me, and one thing led to another and despite my best judgment we slept together. It was quite amazing, and this was just before we both went out of town for a couple weeks.
So I told myself it was a one-time deal, and that once we saw each other again it would be different and I would do the best thing for everyone and just stay away…and I succeed, for about two weeks. But once again we found ourselves alone together one night and it happened again. Since then, he has left town and is spending a few months at his girlfriend’s city, so I shouldn’t see him again for three months or so.
Since we work together I’ll probably be seeing him a lot once he gets back, so my question is, any advice on how to get over this until then? I’m not a moron, I understand that if this keeps happening it can only end badly for everyone (or at the very least for me) but I’m very attracted to him, and I like him so much that I just don’t know how much self-control I would be able to have if he approached me again.
And no, he does not have any plans to leave her and does not seem to have any feelings for me, to him it was all about sex. So, any help at all in how to get over him? I’ve been trying for about a month now and I keep thinking about it so much…
So not going to be the other woman (anymore…?)
Dear Other,
You say he’s lovely, handsome, smart, and driven. He’s also a proven cheater, and not interested in an emotional relationship with you. Not sure how “lovely” that is, or how “smart,” either.
He has a girlfriend, and you work with him. Give me a break with the “I don’t know if I can control myself around him” and start taking responsibility for yourself — we all make mistakes, we all let pheromones overturn the boat at times, and I don’t judge you for that, but this isn’t a bodice-ripper. Stop putting yourself in situations where he can “approach” you, and if he “approaches” you anyway, tell him that you can’t, because it’s unprofessional, and walk away.
“But what if I caaaaaan’t?” You haven’t even tried, that I can see. You haven’t tried to resist that urge, and now you want me to sign off on it as though it’s something you can’t control, like a thunderstorm. But it isn’t that. You can control your behavior in the situation; you just haven’t, thus far, and again, I don’t judge you for that, but you need to get a grip from now on.
When you find yourself thinking about him, give yourself a couple of minutes to moon, then move on to something else — a work task, cleaning the house, whatever it takes to distract you. Make a change in your routine in some other way to trick yourself into thinking it’s a new era; work out in the morning instead of at night, eat something different for breakfast, part your hair on the other side. Close the door psychologically somehow.
And when he gets back, minimize contact with him as far as you can. Do not spend time in his office, or allow him to linger in yours. Do not socialize with him, at all. No “just a couple of beers,” because that leads to “well, I guess it’s okay if he walks me to my car” and then “well, I guess he can come in for a glass of water” and then “well, it’s just kissing” — stop. Stop rationalizing. You want him to love you; he doesn’t, and won’t, and this is excellent news, because if he’ll do it with you, he’ll do it to you.
He’s a cheaty douche who shits where he eats. That isn’t going to change. The only thing that can change is your actions, so stop acting like you don’t deserve better than this and stop hanging out with him.
Tags: boys (and girls) the fam
Dear Foot,
Would it be possible for your parents to meet with you and your oncologist? That is what my folks did when I got a cancer diagnosis, although I didn’t want them there, but noooo, we are talking our darling daughter here. So the great part was that my oncologist probably realized my parents fears and he set them straight. Told them my bone marrow transplant would be a piece of cake. They bought it! They were impressed! And after that, I just kept them informed. Maybe speaking directly to a professional will ease their minds. Take the heat off of you. Best of luck.
PS I just celebrated 20 years, cancer free!
@Kathy: Congrats! And excellent tip. Asking your oncologist to meet with them because they’re wigging, but without undermining you to them…I’m sure they have to walk that tightrope often, so it shouldn’t be an imposition.
@ Foot: My thoughts are with you. I can see both sides of this so clearly. I have a very strong mother who doesn’t ever hesitate to let me know when I am Doing It Wrong. This has led to long periods where we didn’t speak at all (and may very well again). However, it also means that she is my fiercest advocate when I need one. She single-handedly got me to push hard enough to avoid a C-section with my first baby! And I know that if I ever found myself facing what you face, she would stop at nothing to make sure I was doing everything possible to kick cancer’s ass, while never letting me see how upset she was.
I know you want to be concentrating on what you need to do to get through, but just try to remember that’s exactly what your folks are doing too, albeit in a pushier way. Now that I have wee people of my own, I understand my mom’s need to fix everything, even if I still don’t always like it.
As a parent I can tell you that my children are the most important thing in my world, and I cannot imagine facing the thought of losing one of them. Your parents don’t want to grill your doctor–they want to know that the stranger to whom they are entrusting the life of their child is going to fight as hard as they would to save that child. It’s not mistrust of you or your choices–it’s fear and the need to control/understand what little they can.
Don’t let this be something that comes between you. Focus on getting better so they can drive you crazy about silly stuff for many more years to come.
If a face to face meeting can’t be arranged, maybe a phone call can help. I went thru a serious operation a few years ago, and my parents were miles away, wigging out about it. One call from my doctor explaining the need for the surgery and the respect he had for the surgeon helped tremendously. Best of luck; we’re all rooting for you!
@Foot I’m an only as well. Fun times! Following up on Kathy, you could also give your parents permission to speak to your Doctor (well, a doctor, I assume you have more than one) to get the straight scoop from them over the phone if they can’t do a meet in person pre surgery time. This may be a bad idea (it depends on your feelings), but one phone call could put them at ease if they have a similar result as Kathy’s did.
Also, do you have a really close friend, cousin or other family member near by that could go to an appointment or two with you and be your “second” as it were and also be in touch with your parents potentially (not spying — just around to say, yup, we went and asked questsions, I took notes)? Then your parents might know that you’re not going it alone when they can’t be there (not that you can’t go it alone, of course, you can, but sometimes you need some to eat ice cream with or hit the book store after an appointment).
I hope things go well. Power to the onlys!
@Foot: First off, fuck cancer right in the ear. Major kudos to your doctors for figuring out the problem, and huge ones to you for keeping it together and moving forward; what your folks see as “robotic” appears to be you taking the steps that you know are important, and if underneath the competent appearance you’re wobbling like a flan in a 7.2 on the Richter, that’s okay too.
I second the suggestions above about asking your doctor–and other resources s/he may suggest, including nurse practitioners, parental support groups, and/or clergy–to talk with your parents. But the other thing you can tell your parents, straight up, is, “I’ve made my decisions, and I love you and how much help you’re giving me, but even though I’m confident that what I’m doing is best for me, it’s hard and it’s scary. I need you to back my play.”
Your parents are terrified and are trying to find ways to help you. You may have to tell them exactly what you need. It feels bitchy and dictatorial; it isn’t. It’s truth.
No doubt lots of survivors will be posting here; we none of us “know how you feel,” but we all of us wish you a quick recovery.
@Foot: Good luck with everything and my thoughts are with you. Speaking from personal experience, in moments of stress and trauma, you cease to be the wonderful and competent woman they raised and you instead become their little girl again that they would do anything to protect. My advise is to address that simply. It doesn’t have to be a long drawn out conversation. More like a simple statement that Sars is always using. “I understand where all this is coming from. I’m your daughter and you’d do anything to protect me and you want the best for me. Sometimes the best thing for me is to understand that I am making the best decisions I can in the situation.”
It’s this 900 lb. gorilla in the room that once addressed seems to at least dissolve some of the tension. I’d also advocate either a support group or a therapist. Sometimes it’s good to have a channel for all the tumultuous feelings and thoughts you must be feeling that isn’t your husband, close friend or parents. It might help your parents to talk to a cancer survivor as well, so see if you can find a cancer support group or if your oncologist could help you find a buddy who’d be willing to talk to your parents and assuage some of their fears.
@Foot – OK, it’s too late for this now, but in the future, perhaps not sharing something of this magnitude would be a better course of action. I have learned (the hard way!) that if I want to survive a tough period (of any sort, not just medical), it’s best to not clue my parents in. They are waaaaay to vested in the outcome. I end up relying on friends / partner / online resources instead and it ends up being far less stressful.
Other: Take Sars advice — and while you are trying to convince yourself that you can’t be with him, do NOT make the mistake of adding “unless he’s broken up with his girlfriend.” That just makes it easier to add exceptions upon exceptions until you’re right back in the same place.
You’ve gotten extremely lucky that he’s gone for a while. This is not a chance most people who have office flings get. Go out there, meet some other guys, date a few other people — you don’t have to be in the mood for anything serious, but convincing yourself he’s NOT the only guy out there will help a lot in distancing yourself psychologically. (And you never know — I joined Match in an attempt to break myself from obsessing over an ex, and I’ve now been with the second guy I met for almost a year.)
@Foot – I can totally relate. My illness isn’t cancer nor am I an only child, but in the last 6 months I underwent significant amount of testing for a rare endocrine disorder called Cushing’s Disease and now I’ve been diagnosed and am facing brain surgery. Yep. Brain surgery.
So this: “You’re their only child, you’re very sick, you’re sick in a way they know nothing about and can’t fix (or even hug you, since you don’t live close by), you’re facing a dangerous surgery followed by chemo, and you said it yourself: no guarantees. Imagine how they feel — sucker-punched, terrified, out of control.” SPOT ON. This is exactly how my parents are feeling, and I live with my dad and stepmom. There’s nothing they can do, and there’s something very wrong with the world (in their eyes) when their kid needs medical help and its not a bandaid or an antibiotic. (And my sister? Is on the other side of the world right now, so there’s no one to take the attention away from me.)
Encourage them to talk to your oncologist, and participate in the appointments. It helped my dad to be able to ask my endocrinologist questions (which, I think, helped my mom because at least one of them was on the case.) My parents are going to the pre-op appointment with the neurosurgeon with me, and are asking everyone they know for support and prayers. I, in turn, try to educate them as best I can about things. I’ve looked for plain English FAQs about the procedure and given them links to my doctor’s website (he has a very detailed website) and my neurosurgeon (not such a good website). Education and knowledge really do help, in my experience.
Ultimately, you can’t make them calm down. They’re going to be freaked. And for me, having them be freaked means I don’t have to be freaked. They’ve got scared and terrified and freaked covered. I get to focus on being positive and getting to the other side.
Take care of yourself, and keep us all posted.
Daaaamn I love it when Sars lets it rip on delusional Vine writers!
It’s not that I don’t sympathize with “Other Woman,” I have been infatuated with more than my fair share of unavailable men over the years. And I’ve made some shitty decisions in my younger days. So I get it, but yeah I get the feeling she’s just writing for validation of some kind, like “poor you, you’re banging another woman’s man and don’t think you can stop”, when really, REALLY, you can stop. You just don’t want to.
@Sharon, I believe that approach depends on the family dynamics, and probably could only work in a family where there isn’t the kind of closeness that Foot describes. Otherwise, you get feelings of betrayal & mistrust at a time when support is needed.
Also, unless there are hundreds of miles separating the family, it is really hard to cover up post-op time in hospital and/or the effects of ongoing chemo & radiation treatments. If they’re nearby, you could probably get through the diagnostic phase without telling them, but not the follow-on.
@Foot: wishing you lots of good vibes & positive thoughts for your treatment & recovery.
@Sharon… try the “shoe on the other foot” thing. How would you feel if, say, your mom, found out she had cancer and decided not to tell you, just to spare everyone the hassle?
If you want to actually maintain a real relationship with your family, you can’t be hiding that kind of information from one another.
Foot,
First of all good luck with everything. Now on to the problem, is there something that you can ask your parents to do? Not financially, but physically? I know this may be hard since you don’t live near them, but maybe you can send them on a search for specific books, comfy pj, movies, or something else like that. My rents are much the same (in the over involvement of medical care) and after 3 visits to OR in 18 months, we now have a system. My Dad is responsible for driving me to the hospital and taking notes while the Doc is talking, then bringing me home. Since my mother (who is great in a crisis at the ER) is not so good when she has time to imagine what could go wrong she doesn’t get to come to the hospital. Instead she is in charge of food. My Dad calls her when I get into recovery (day surgery) and she heads to my place with “dinner”. I put the dinner in quotes because she brings enough to feed me and a small army for about a week. At first I kept saying no, I have some food or I can cook before the surgery and that I live within 1 mile of over a dozen places that deliver, but then I realized, it makes her feel like she’s contributing. Once she felt like she was helping in some way it made it a lot easier to get her on board with things she didn’t agree with at first, like a friend staying overnight with me instead of her. If you can give them a specific task to focus on it might be a little easier for you to deal with.
Hugs from a stranger, Foot, I wish you the best.
Your mention of not wanting this period in your life to damage your relationship with your parents–good call, but the fact that you’re worried about such damage says that the bond between you is strong and healthy. Sars is her usual spot on self–a little tongue biting from you will let them blow off steam, etc. Of course, if you were worried about saying something truly nasty or vicious it’d be one thing, but don’t worry that any stress you feel in the relationship will be the Thing That Dooms You In The End. I’ve found that any irritated remark you don’t snap out can be relatively easy to forgive yourself for later, while the things you let fly have to have a much longer dealing time because, well, they’re out there.
But if you do let fly? So what? This isn’t a Lifetime movie, it’s your actual life. You and they will probably just forget it, because not every feeling and thought needs a heartwarming well written scene to get over. People just get over things, especially when something this epic is happening.
@Foot and others who’ve chimed in: I have nothing constructive other than serious good thoughts and prayers for all of you.
Just wanted to add that what HLM said:
But the other thing you can tell your parents, straight up, is, “I’ve made my decisions, and I love you and how much help you’re giving me, but even though I’m confident that what I’m doing is best for me, it’s hard and it’s scary. I need you to back my play.”
Another bit of excellent advice. I did this with my parents and it worked quite well.
@Foot, my best to you; it sounds like you’re getting some great advice. Hang in there.
@Other Woman, you need to find a new job so you’re not working with this guy.
Foot – I love Sherry’s advice because it gives them something to do that is actually helpful and makes them feel useful and makes them feel as if they have control over SOMETHING.
I don’t know if this is the case with your parents, but when my father had cancer, for me and almost everyone in my family there was this feeling that if we just tried hard enough finding the right doctor or the right specialist or the right anything that we could fix it. We couldn’t, but there was the feeling that if we didn’t explore every avenue, that we were letting him down. Hence the, “try this doctor, what about this treatment” etc. There’s a very strong “never quit fighting” mentality to dealing with cancer, and so the first thing you want to do when a loved one gets it is fight. There’s nothing necessarily wrong with that, but when you don’t know anything about cancer or medicine, what exactly do you do? Well, you do what your parents are doing, right or wrong. As to not telling them stuff as was mentioned above, the less information they have, the more freaked out they’re going to be.
I don’t know if any of that helps or applies at all, but I think the advice above is really spot on, i.e. give them something practical to do to help you, and invite them to some of the doctor’s appointments so they feel that they have a real grasp of what is going on.
I wish you the very best of luck!
@Foot: I just wanted to chime in with my own prayers/thoughts/good wishes/holding you in the light. Wishing you the best and hoping for a good report when you feel up to it.
@Foot – Sars and the other commenters have the advice covered, so I’ll just join in sending warm, strong thoughts your way.
@Older – Sars is right – give yourself a break. And a round of applause. I’m judging solely on this one email you’ve written here, obviously, but I think your little one is lucky to have a wonderful mother like you. You’re doing great.
Foot: I feel where you’re coming from, for sure. When I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, it quickly became apparent that I had two jobs to do: beat the cancer, and constantly reassure/update my family.
I won’t say that there wasn’t some minor resentment there–“I have cancer and it’s taking everything I have to get better and I don’t always have the time/energy to explain every little step to everyone in detail!”–but… yeah, I sucked it up and emailed them when I could and grumbled to myself when I got yet another email asking for updates when there were literally no updates to be had. (When I had gotten through the treatments and was starting to get better, there were months when I and my doctors were doing nothing but waiting to see if the cancer had been KOed or if it was going to regenerate, and getting prodded for updates during that time was pretty annoying. When my relatives ask “So what’s going on with your cancer treatments now? What are you doing? Which doctors are you seeing? What are they telling you to do? What horrible medical tests are you undergoing?”, they don’t want to hear “Well, we’re sitting back and waiting to see what happens.”)
… and I seem to have made this all about me, but my point is, I feel you, and I have faith you’ll survive both the cancer and your family.
@ Foot – You may also want to speak with social workers in the oncology field. A lot of them have excellent resources when it comes to family support. I also agree that having the oncologist talk with your parents could be a good solution – though it obviously depends on the sort of person your oncologist is. Don’t worry about them alienating him/her – most oncologists I know are fairly understanding when it comes to worried family members. Working in the medical field myself (and might I say, I’m extremely curious on the diagnosis given how rare it is) I know that I’d rather ease someone’s worry now than hear about it after the fact. Best of luck to you! I hope you can keep us posted.
“He’s a cheaty douche who shits where he eats.”
Sars, I love you.
Good thoughts for Foot!
But I also wanted to send a sympathetic little upthread note to Sharon–I definitely operate on a need-to-know basis with my dad these days. He’s not in great shape anyway, and his being informed has always meant that I have somebody else to take care of in addition to myself at a stressful time, and I can’t always take on that psychological nursing job. So I get what people are saying about its not being ideal, but I also get why sometimes that’s the best road to take.
Foot: Cancer, fun for the whole family! I went through it with my husband last year, and as horrible as that was going through it with a child would be even worse. I can barely stand seeing my kid get a shot – cancer? Unthinkable. And I don’t think this ever really ends for parents, both of them right now would probably gladly have this disease in your place. They deserve every compassion you can manage right now.
But you’re the sick one, and you deserve even more! Lots of good advice here about letting them in, giving them jobs, mitigating their interference, definitely bring them to appointments, esp. if you’ve got an impressive oncologist. I did wonder about the “stop crying” remark – you have every reason to cry, be depressed, feel anything you need to feel. You’re dealing with something huge and terrifying, and it sounds like you’re still fairly young.
I wouldn’t worry too much about your long term relationship. As far as my husband and I , we both acknowledged it was a terrible time and took a “by any means necessary” approach to getting through each day. There are no reproaches of the “you really acted like a jerk during chemo” variety. Everyone acted like a jerk at some point, and as long as nothing too terrible happened, it could be put in the “cancer sucks” bin and thrown away.
Hugs and much white light, @Foot.
Adding my voice to the chorus of people wishing you well, Foot. As for your actual issue: I agree with Sars and most of the other comments here. One thing I have learned with my parents is the fine art of responding to their helpful suggestions with suitable ‘oh really? That’s so interesting! Thanks for thinking of me’ comments, while continuing to do exactly what I was already doing. And I do think that giving them something to do will help them. They just want to look after you, bless them, and they don’t know how.
But if all else fails, I wouldn’t hesitate to lay down the law a bit and remind them that, while you want to comfort them and you know that this is hard, you’re the one with cancer and you can’t be too worried about them. But in the nicest possible way, obv.
Older, I agree with others: you’re awesome.
Other: get a grip! What Sars said. You don’t ‘just end up’ hooking in to another woman’s boyfriend. Nobody is going to cut you a break for doing that. Just stop doing it. You don’t have to find another job: just stop hanging out with the guy. And stop looking at him with rose-tinted glasses, because he’s a dick.
I guess I was expecting that…
Btw, I wrote ´cause I can ´t talk to anyone about this, not because I wanted validation (duh, I ´ve read the vine before… it ´s not really what Sars does here). I know it ´s wrong, and I don ´t think that I don ´t have any responsibility in it. It ´s been almost a month since I wrote the letter and I ´ve been doing better since (went out with a few other guys. all single this time) and have been trying my best to avoid thinking about this all together. I ´d even forgotten about the letter. I ´m hoping I ´ll be doing even better by the time he gets back. I know it ´s sounds like I think I can ´t control myself – I am aware that ´s not the case – I just seem to forget all the reasons why I shouldn ´t be with him when he ´s around.
Anyway, next time I ´m around him the words “He’s a cheaty douche who shits where he eats.” should pop into my head. That ought to do the trick hee. Thanks for that one…
@mo pie nah, it ´s the best job I ´ve ever had, and I ´ll be damned if I let go of it over some guy…
anyways… thanks for answering my letter, it helped put things into perspective.
Foot – can you talk to the hospital or your doctors and find out if they have some kind of person that would act the role of patient advocate and run interference with your parents? I’m actually thinking of something more like a doula situation. In fact, why DON’T we have doula-type people for things like this? That way, you’d be able to focus on your treatment and recovery and Helper Person can be all “yes, Ma and Pa. Thank you for the sheaf of research about acai berry poultices. We really appreciate it. Yes, Dr. Thingy is the best in his field. Have you been to the coffee shop?” et cetera ad nauseam. In the meantime, hang in there and kick cancer’s ass!!
Older – you are an extremely brave woman, whether you think that or not. Creating the life you want (especially for a woman, since apparently we’re all supposed to have men tell us what to do) is such an amazing gift to give yourself. Keep on keepin’ on and if a Daddy-person arrives in the picture, he’ll be a very lucky dude.
Other – It sounds like this guy is the Ashley Wilkes to your Scarlett O’Hara. Meaning, he’s promised to another and you’ve had your moments with him and have somehow built him up into A Great Guy, when he’s really totally not. It’s the *idea* of him that you’re attracted to, I think.
I’ve done it. It ended badly, and you yourself said that you know that these sorts of situations always end badly. So… end it. Walk away. Find a hot barista at the coffee joint down the street to talk to. This guy is bad news for you and for his girlfriend (I expect we’ll be seeing her Vine letter any time).
I sympathize, but… yeah.
Other–thanks for the followup. The thing is, you still even *talk* about it as something that “happened” to you. It didn’t “happen” to you. You chose to do it because you wanted what you thought you were getting. By painting it as something that hit you, like a tornado, you’re robbing yourself of the agency to choose something else. It doesn’t “keep happening”–you keep kissing him instead of walking out the door. And while you indicate that you kind of know that, I really recommend ceasing to describe the incident to yourself in terms that suggest you don’t. Reinforce the choice, not the illusion that you don’t have one.
@Other: I would advise just not putting yourself in situations where you’re alone with this guy. Unless you guys were getting up to shenanigans in the office itself, then this activity occurred in a situation where you saw him outside of work. So: don’t.
In fact, I might even avoid a group situation, like happy hour with a crew from work, if there’s a possibility the crowd will dwindle to you two. No, you’re not free for lunch, dinner, drinks, seeing a movie, catching up, coffee, whatever. You’re busy, you have other plans, period. You’re not friends, not really, because you don’t want to be his friend, you want to be something else. So just stop being anything with him besides a colleague.
@Foot: Good luck!
Hi- Foot here,
I would like to thank everyone who has sent their good wishes and amazing advice. Since I wrote the letter to Sars my parents have met with Oncologist Dude and are feeling ‘better’ about the situation (well, mom is- dad has slid into a state of denial since the discovery of two more tumors) and, other than a few hiccups, we are getting on more like our usual selves.
I am definitly going to take Sharon’s advice about giving Mom and Dad little tasks to help them feel like they have some sort of contol in this situation. My father, especially, functions better in difficult situations if he has a ‘plan’.
To Laura, I was diagnosed with an appendiceal mucinous neoplasim which, if it was just by the appendix, it would be within the realm of ‘fine’. However, the original one was found behind the girl bits and two more are by the spleen. The surgery to address it is intense (between 8-15 hours, depending on how advanced one is) but, given my stage, I should only have to go through it once. ::fingers crossed::
Thank you, again, to the Vine readers, I am off to look for social workers and/or therapists in my area that can help me with tools to better address my situation.
Good On You Foot. We all are sending warm thoughts your way.
@Foot: Everybody else has already laid down more wisdom than I could offer, and I’ve never been in your situation. However, I can say this: You’ll be in my thoughts and prayers, and I honestly hope the very best for you and for your parents. This is something that could happen to any one of us. Like Sars said, please let everybody know how it goes for you.
@Other: Oh, I saw myself in your letter. In my situation, I was the cheater. But I couldn’t help it, see? It just happened…and every time I was around him I just couldn’t think straight…and then it would “happen” again.
At the time, I didn’t tell any of my friends what I was doing (though it was painfully obvious). I didn’t want the Sars-type smackdown they would give me. So I wallowed alone in my head, thinking of how helpless I was in this unsolvable situation.
God I wish I had gotten a smackdown. Or given myself one. I only changed when the consequences caught up with me, which I still regret. From your response, it seems like you’re moving forward on your own. Good work and keep it up.
@Foot Good luck. Sending my best thoughts your way…
@Jane
I ´m sorry if I made it sound it that way, but I never thought I didn ´t have any part in it. His lips didn ´t accidentally fall on top of mine. I ´m very aware of my choice – what I meant is that it was not something I planned. Nor is it something happening every day, it happened on two separate occasions in which I threw (conscioulsy, albeit slightly drunk) my best judgement out the window and did something that although I knew was wrong, seemed so incredbly good that I didn ´t care. Later I did care. It doesn ´t excuse it, but like I said, I wrote ´cause I needed help in finding ways to move on. And you guys gave me that, so thank you.
@Rachel
Hah, hadn ´t thought of it that way… I ´ll really try to keep that one in mind…
to everyone else who replied: thanks for all the suggestions
I’ve got to say I disagree with a chunk of Sars’ advice to foot. While I agree with Sars on the scans/oncologist issue — placate them but move ahead, on the emotional front, Sars’ advice basically read to me like “go along to get along.”
Foot: you say that there isn’t time to sit down and have a talk about boundaries, but I say *make time*. There is no you should be dealing with anyone telling you anything along the lines of “you need to stop being robotic” or “you need to stop crying” in your situation. For the next 5 weeks, and likely for long after, you’re allowed to feel however the fuck you want. So to me, that’s part A of the conversation: “mom, dad, I know you love me and are just trying to help… But when you tell me how I should or shouldn’t feel, right now that feels hurtful and overwhelming. I need you to support me where I am emotionally, not try to insist I feel something else.”
Good luck and I’m so glad you have a strong support network outside of your parents to help you through this time…
@ Other Anyway, next time I ´m around him the words “He’s a cheaty douche who shits where he eats.” should pop into my head. That ought to do the trick hee. Thanks for that one…
An excellent idea, but it might not be snappy enough. You know how you have to practice responses to being groped on the subway, etc.? I think you have to practice thinking of him of him as wrong for you, in a small phrase, so that it does automatically pop into your head when you see him. I recommend using “[his name] the Douchelord”. It’s like “Alexander the Great” but less flattering.
I know it might seem like I’m trying to be funny, but I’m not; your idea of creating an automatic negative association to keep yourself from making the same bad decision really is a good one. Sometimes short associations are easier than long ones.
Good luck.
@ Foot, what Sars and everyone else says, especially Emily. Best of luck; we’re all pulling for you.
Foot, more good thoughts heading your way, and a couple of specific points: I’m really glad your parents have met the oncologist and calmed down a bit. I’m sure it’s only a bit, though. My son’s had some interesting (that’s a euphemism) health issues, and that was bad enough. Being the parent of a child with cancer, even a grown child must be rough beyond words. You’re really being remarkably patient with them. But if they can come to some more of your appts (especially post-surgery), it might be a good thing. People, even ridiculously competent people, tend to forget details under stress. The more people who hear the same thing, the better odds that everything will be remembered. If they can’t, try to have *someone* with you at big appts. Rachel’s idea of a patient advocate would be a good one for this, too. HOWEVER, I’m a tiny bit concerned about them wanting you to be able to travel 4 hours (I assume that’s to them?) within two weeks of major surgery. Do NOT, repeat, do NOT do that. You should be dealing with recovery, not travel, ok? Refer them to me if needs be. I’m perfectly willing to go all mom on them for you. I get it, in the back of their minds, they’re thinking that if you can travel, everything is fine. But it’s not. You have cancer, and you need to take care of yourself, so that it will all be fine *when you’ve had enough time to recover*.
Foot,
Glad to hear things on the parent front are going slightly better. And not that I thought you were, but you really weren’t kidding about the rarity of your condition. Best of luck to you with the surgery and recovery. Keep us posted if you can. Sending good thoughts your way.
Older and wiser, I agree, don’t beat yourself up. Cutting people off that you care about is not something that comes easily or naturally to most people, men or women. The more intensely you feel about someone, the longer it takes to get to that point where realism kicks in and says, “You’ve got to let her (or him) go.” And, man, that humiliation, want, pain etc. lingers long after you’ve done so. My experience has been that it’s folly to try to do away with it completely — best to expend your energies trying to find ways to live through it and lessen its sting a bit.
Dear Foot,
Readers have sent you some awesome advice, and I would definitely like to add to the encouraging words here. You and your family will be in my thoughts. I was hoping to add something practical. Please contact the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society:
http://www.leukemia-lymphoma.org/hm_lls
I have done some fundraising for this organization in the past, and have had the pleasure and blessing of listening to real stories. Your situation is their spesh-ee-ality. If they can’t help you and your family, they will point you in the right direction. They offer counseling and financial help. They help the whole family deal with a patient’s issues. I have worked with folks that have been touched personally by this awesome organization.
I hope that helps.
Love!