Cancer Confessions

April 17, 2008

I need to get this off my chest:

Confession #1:

I think I’ve become a hypochondriac. My Great Grandma died of cervical cancer, my Dad died of a rare stomach cancer, my Mom is a breast cancer survivor, and my sister has had pre-cancerous moles removed. CANCER, CANCER, CANCER, CANCER. I’m sick and completely terrified of that six-letter word. I have had three pap smears this year, four blood test, I only use speaker phone when using my cell phone, I am a raw food vegan and I never put my lab top on my lap because I am sure that the radio waves will give me CANCER. I even worry that my worrying too much will inevitably give me cancer. Being so close to cancer has made me completely aware of every part of my body.

I removed nail polish from my toenails only to find them yellow, this sent me into an obsession where I spent two weeks researching nail fungus and remedies; I made an appointment with a foot doctor two hours away only to have him tell me it was the nail polish dying my nail… I still spray my nails with bleach twice a day and rub Vicks vapor rub on them. Literally, I do not miss a single day. I had a tumor removed from my shoulder even though the doctor insisted that it was benign, the stitches have put me out of all physical activities for two-weeks. I have become obsessed with diseases, and I cannot get the idea out of my head until I see a doctor or am tested.

Confession #2:

I was diagnosed maniac depressive after my Dad died. I think it is a total bullshit diagnosis, and every time I step into a psychiatrist, counselor, psychologist, or WHATEVER’s office I envision the Hospice nurse sitting in my living room while my Dad’s body was carried out behind her, telling me that my life was from now on going to be a “wave” of emotions. Her face blurs out, and all I can see is my Dad’s body being carried out of our home–my once family of four home. Every time a friend tries to talk to me about getting help or seeing a counselor my skin starts to crawl.

Confession #3:

After my Dad died it was like I had a constant excuse for everything, and I felt like the whole world played into it. Oh I’m sorry for being late, my Dad died. Oh I couldn’t get around to it, I’m so sorry, my Dad died when I was 16. It was this chip on my shoulder that suddenly demanded empathy whether I wanted it to or not. Freshman year I wanted to ditch class to drive to Tahoe to see my Boyfriend. So I mustered up some tears and told my Professor that I had just found out my Mom had gotten Breast Cancer… “We have been through this before with my Dad passing away so I am just very upset, and cannot be in class today.” He actually hugged me, and wished me the best. Two years later my Mom does have breast cancer, and I can’t help but feel like it is my fault. I told her this in the hospital after her mastectomy, and of course she laughed, but really, I still feel awful.

Confession #4:

Everyone says that my Dad is still watching me from “above.” I have never felt that this is true, my dad is dead and if he were watching me, I’m pretty sure he would not approve.