Seeing Beyond the Cancer

When my daughter Adrienne was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 27, one of her worst moments was hearing that she was going to lose her hair to chemotherapy. There are many reasons why this loss is devastating to patients with cancer, but for my daughter one of the worst was that losing the hair on her head and face was going to announce to the world that she was sick.

At the beginning, when it was just the hair on her head, she was able to maintain most of her privacy because many people assumed it was a fashion-choice. Once the facial hair disappeared, however, that all changed, and the looks of shock and sympathy on people’s faces was a lot to manage. The greatest gifts to us during that time were the people that saw beyond the cancer and treated her like any other 20-something.

When we would go to see her siblings who lived an hour and a half away, they treated her like they had always treated her, with love and gentle teasing. They talked about boyfriend issues, and the cost of food, and the newest thrift shop finds. They made fun of me and how I cannot seem to open packages without completely destroying them. They talked about Adrienne’s wigs as if it were perfectly normal for her to be wearing one. At one point it was too warm, so Adrienne took the wig off and her older sister put it on her daughter, who at that point was still almost bald, and we all laughed so hard. Adrienne took a picture and posted it with the caption: I think this wig makes me look younger.

Then there was the oncology nurse who gossiped with her about everything as she was hooking up IVs. Or the other one who would talk about our outfits because we dressed up to go to the appointments since to prevent possible viral infections for Adrienne’s safety it was almost the only time we left the house. Or the one who hinted that baked goods would be better shared when she would see something delicious come out of the lunches we packed for the long treatment days.

Her friend who lived and worked close by would pop in on the way to or from a shift just to say hello and catch her up with the latest. They would talk music and movies and TV shows and anything that wasn’t cancer as they munched on the snack I served in very small dishes so it was not overwhelming for my girl.

For so much of the experience, my daughter became cancer. The people in our lives who saw beyond that, who brought us tiny pieces of The Before when our lives were not ruled by doing all we could to kill the beast, were the greatest blessing imaginable. For a brief period of time the looking glass they held up to my daughter’s face reflected just her, and she could hold that image in her mind until the next time she caught a glimpse of the reality when she walked by a mirror.

My intent in writing this blog is to make sure that other people whose loved ones have cancer understand just how amazing it is to be given short respites from being a patient. It can take a lot of effort to mask your own shock and concern, but I guarantee you it will be appreciated. There is nothing normal about going through cancer treatment and feeling normal for even just a minute feels like so much more.

So…much…MORE!

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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