We’re coming up on seven years since I received the phone call that would change my life.
“Mom…Mom, it’s cancer.”
Typing that still takes my breath away.
I had the television version of breast cancer treatment as a frame of reference so I anticipated that things would be rough, and it turned out to be much harder than I thought it would be. What came as a surprise to me, however, was that one of the most difficult things about Adrienne being diagnosed with breast cancer was telling other people.
There were a lot of people who love Adrienne, who love me, that we felt deserved to know what was going on. She asked me to manage sharing the information since she was managing so much already and of course, I agreed. I had no idea, though, the toll of creating that buffer would take on my being.
After the initial shock I figured out ways to put my reality into a box so I could function day-to-day. Being in action-mode helped with that a lot. But every time I had to share what was happening, the lid came off and I was reliving the emotions that came with that phone call all over again.
Adrienne still has to tell her story. She’ll have to tell it for the rest of her life… to new people who are involved in her healthcare, or those who wonder why she has so many appointments, or if someone sees the lymphedema sleeve and tilts their head in question. I also have to tell her story to explain why I need time off because I still go with her to appointments as emotional support and to make sure, if she starts disassociating, that I get the answers to all the questions she had going in. And no matter how far out we get, saying the words out loud means the chains that cancer shackled to our spirits snap us back to that first time we heard them.
It seems to me that living in The After can feel like a very unsafe place.
I only recently thought about how significantly Adrienne’s cancer impacted our sense of safety. It’s the second most important need humans have, only one step above basic needs like food and shelter. There is no rhyme or reason to a 27-year-old being diagnosed with breast cancer. There was no hint it was coming, no way we could have prepared, no genetic history to be concerned with. It was like a meteor falling on your home in the middle of the night. How do you ever feel safe again when at any moment a piece of space can blow up your house?
How do we ever feel safe again when one cell can wake up and drag us back into the nightmare?
We can feel love and belonging, feel pride in achievements, feel like we have reached our full potential and then a scan appointment makes us start scanning the sky obsessively.
I’m going to start using versions of the word “safe” when people ask me how she’s doing, how I’m doing. I think responding that, “We’re feeling a little unsafe at the moment,” will strike a different chord, maybe have people relating more to what life in The After can feel like. I also think that people will think a bit longer before they toss out platitudes, which I think they do just as much to help them manage their own reactions to the story as to provide me with reassurance.
It will also add a new mantra to the “Getting Through the After” manual I have in my head. I am hoping that telling myself that I am safe today, that she is safe today, will help me keep the lid on the box.
I’ll keep you posted.
Mother…Grandmother…Librarian…Military Spouse…Caregiver…Family Life Educator…take your pick! Debbie Legault was born in British Columbia, Canada to a former RCAF airman father and a Scottish War Bride mother and has lived in other Canadian provinces, Germany and California. She has been married for 36 years to a Canadian Air Force Veteran and credits him with filling her life with adventure. When Debbie Legault’s children look at family photos they often comment on how many different hairstyles she has had and that pretty much is her story, that her life has taken as many turns and led her down as many paths as her hair has changed! Her latest role is as the author of Mom…It’s Cancer, the story of supporting her 27-year-old daughter as they experienced breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. Read more of Debbie’s blogs here.