[2023-08-17] Shared joys make a friend
I had coffee today with a kindred spirit—someone who had had breast cancer, then ovarian cancer, then learned that she carries a mutation in her BRCA2 gene. We swapped stories for almost three hours, finding so much common ground in our journeys that our conversation floated along effortlessly from topic to topic.
At one point, I recalled the Sir Isaac Newton quote: "If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants." I meant that if I have had a better outcome with ovarian cancer, it is because of people like my friend who were diagnosed and treated years before me, participated in clinical trials or novel treatments, and paved the way for medicines and standards of care that are helping to keep my ovarian cancer from recurring.
Among the many things we talked about is the value of speaking plainly and publicly about things that were once mentioned only in whispers, such as cancer, lumpectomy, mastectomy, hysterectomy and prosthetic breasts. I admitted that words I might have never used in the past I can now throw around like confetti at a wedding. This brings to mind a quote by television presenter and children's author Konnie Huq: "A problem shared is a problem halved, but as with so many problems affecting women—periods, menopause, post-natal depression—we often feel embarrassed, as if we're moaning or just plain wrong to air them." I say, "let us air them!" I have seen too much value in talking about problems affecting me and others to be embarrassed or worried that I may be perceived as moaning.
My friend and I also discussed the support of loved ones. Her husband (a doctor) helped her with pain management (and so much more). My husband helped me with energy management (and so much more). My friend pointed out that loved ones want to be helpful, to feel useful and to make the treatment process more bearable. I recalled this later in the day when I stumbled upon this poem by The Clumsy Lass (aka Jasmin Lorraine Tan):
I'm fine.
I mean I'm in pain,
but at least it's mine.
I feel it,
and so I'll heal it in time.
But when I see
the way you hurt
and that there's nothing
I can do to ease it,
how I wish I can hold it
with my bare hands
and simply take it away.
Sometimes when we are sick, we may be reluctant to let others help us, fearing that we will be a burden. But when we allow them to support us, especially in ways that come naturally to them—such as baking, driving, advocating, advising, listening—we give them a gift. The gift of being helpful (e.g., by easing our pain). The gift of making a difference (e.g., by helping us feel less alone). The gift of doing something (e.g., by taking notes during a doctor's visit). All of this can give loved ones a sense of control in the face of an otherwise chaotic illness.
Though my friend and I exchanged many narratives of challenging medical procedures, we ultimately shared a sense of joy, gratitude and happiness with being alive. As Friedrich Nietzsche said: "Shared joys make a friend, not shared sufferings."
