Greetings from ZenTrainer's dining room!
As you may recall, I have traveled down to visit her for a long weekend, which was designed specifically to permit us to comment together on a MNCC diary during my stay. So tonight's the night. We hope that you will join in the fun.
ZT has been a thoroughly gracious and delightful host. Her dog is a sweetheart and though I haven't seen much of the cats they seem like a pretty happy crew. We enjoyed a wonderful meet-up yesterday with the Nashville KosKats, a group very generously defined, since some came from Chattanooga and beyond. ZT will be writing up a diary on that soon. We have more activities planned for today, before the diary posts; we'll report on them later.
Lest we both simply float away on a cloud of good feelings, however, it seems appropriate to correct the balance by writing tonight about the worst, the most obnoxious, the most callous remarks that people have made to us after hearing about your cancer diagnosis.
We are sure you all have your stand-out moments, those jaw-dropping statements from allegedly well-meaning people that make you wonder whether you really heard that. They are in a category of their own, far more objectionable than those awkward offers of "let me know if I can do anything for you." To prime the pump, we have a couple of examples to offer. Here's mine.
Not long after I got my diagnosis, I was heading into a local grocery store when I encountered a colleague from work. Our exact relationship is a bit difficult to describe, because he wasn't exactly a supervisor though he did have a lot of influence over the local where I was working.
I guess we each said hello. I don't really recall, however, because the very next words out of his mouth were, "So how's your prognosis?"
I think I said something along the lines of, "I'm not dead yet," which is a not-entirely-felicitous reference, but it was the best I could do on the spot.
I think he didn't like my response, because not long after that interaction I was basically terminated from my job. We do still on occasion run into each other at this same store. I don't seek him out, let me assure you.
I'll hand the narrative baton to ZT for after the jump. Change in plans: ZT will add her commentary after we return.
Now the floor is open. Have you had conversations that still make you shake your head in incredulity? What happened afterwards with your relationship with that person--was that statement a one-off, a deal-breaker, or something that you've worked through?
Of course, we're also interested in news you choose to share of any kind, good, bad or indifferent. Thanks for being here tonight.
Monday Night Cancer Club is a Daily Kos group focused on dealing with cancer, primarily for cancer survivors and caregivers, though clinicians, researchers, and others with a special interest are also welcome. Volunteer diarists post Monday evenings between 7-8 PM ET on topics related to living with cancer, which is very broadly defined to include physical, spiritual, emotional and cognitive aspects. Mindful of the controversies endemic to cancer prevention and treatment, we ask that both diarists and commenters keep an open mind regarding strategies for surviving cancer, whether based in traditional, Eastern, Western, allopathic or other medical practices. This is a club no one wants to join, in truth, and compassion will help us make it through the challenge together.