Isolation
Disclaimer: this is written from a vulnerable state. None of this is said against anyone or anything, but, after the encouragement of my counselor, is written to show the place of my current, feeble brain.
Over the five years of walking in, through, around, and with cancer, I’m convinced that it is one of the loneliest places on earth. The initial check-ins about main events like diagnoses, surgeries, main treatments, or even follow-up scans, dissipate. All we’ve ever been (intentionally or naturally, take your pick) taught on earth is that everything is finite, after all.
The “you look great!”s and the “you’ve come so far!”s and the “you’re so brave!”s, really, often don’t come across as more than cliche sayings at the end of the day. Sure, the main steps to treatment and recovery are celebratory. But they barely scratch the surface.
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I think, a lot of times, cancer is compared to most other medical illnesses or injuries. They’ll last a while, you’ll recover (Lord willing), and you’ll move on. And some are able to, which is fantastic for them. And then there’s those of us who can’t. Those of us who, on a random Tuesday, feel like we just got hit by a sack of bricks even though we’ve been finished with the big milestones for months. Cancer doesn’t ever actually end; in fact, it always changes us in one way or another, big or small.
Us forgotten-feeling cancer fighters and survivors are sometimes led to believe that we’re expected to just be back to normal. We’re expected to return to the busy schedules we had, return to working on those important projects, return to taking care of the yard. The birthday parties, wedding festivities, ballgames or cookouts, you’ll be there, right?
But what about the nights when we just don’t feel good? What about the weekends after we expended all their energy at work? Is there a way to hang out with us or be with us when we’re zapped of the normalcy we’re supposed to have regained?
I apologize to all my former English teachers that I don’t have a good way to conclude this, but plain and simple: some of us cancer fighters and cancer survivors feel lonely. And there’s not much we can do to change that on our own.
“We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Romans 8:26
