I don’t mean to imply that this only happens when someone’s complaining to a person with cancer. Who among us (including those of us with cancer) feels that its acceptable to whine and grumble with abandon these days when a cursory glance at the news will tell you how much very worse things could be (whether in Haiti or about 500 other hotspots across the globe.) But the truth is that even in the absence of news-making tragedies, this self-consciousness arises whenever people start to complain around a person with cancer — and I’m of two minds about it.
On the one hand, everybody has problems, and while I think we can all agree that some are “bigger” than others, each of us feels the weight of our own troubles.
True, we sometimes get wrapped up in them to the extent that we think things are worse than they actually are. It’s easy to focus on things that aren’t going right. As my Amazing Cancer Shrink likes to point out, the brain is actually designed to focus on the unpleasant stuff (something about survival or whatnot…) It’s natural and legitimate to want to share whatever is weighing on your mind. Also, as my mom’s best friend used to say, “Once you put it out there it’s not bigger than you.” Sometimes just talking about it makes it feel a little lighter, a little less unwieldy.
On the other hand, let’s face it, some people seem to perversely enjoy getting all hyped up in the drama of their troubles, and talking about it becomes kind of a theatrical exercise. In these situations you’re not a listener or an advisor – you’re an audience.
This, I confess, I have very little time for. This is when you might catch me rolling my eyes, or puffing out my cheeks – or possibly both, simultaneously, for maximum “I’m barfing on the inside” effect. Hard to say exactly if it’s the performance or the performer that triggers my response, but whenever I’m in this situation something happens to my theory that everyone has the right to feel the weight of their own problems: it flies out the window, along with my patience and tolerance. I feel… insulted? Maybe not insulted. Definitely annoyed. Definitely of the very strong opinion that such people should immediately get over themselves. Which is of course the very same judgment that I believe most people fear when talking to someone with cancer — and which prompts most complainers to cut themselves off mid-soliloquy in the first place.
The thing is, this isn’t just the cancer talking; I’ve always felt this way. Ask my parents, both of whom have gone through a phase or two when they were perhaps ever so slightly guilty of a little too much drama for my liking. Ask my friends, most of whom will tell you my love can be sometimes be of the tough (and eye-rolling) variety. Ask Georgia, who at three-and-a-half has already had several occasions to shout at me that her name is not “Hollywood!”
So, am I saying that the paranoia about having the “right” to complain that some people feel around a person with cancer is justified? Am I in fact intolerant if I get irritated by a person’s self-pity? Is it, moreover, a sign of my own self-absorption that I don’t make time for the friend who can’t stop carping on about his nasty boss or the woman who’s every conversation returns to the subject of her inability to find the right guy?
Actually, no. I think I just have a short fuse with drama queens (of either gender.) Always have. My policy is Ice Queens, Drag Queens, Dairy Queens – ok. Drama Queens, no.
Because everyone has problems, and I truly don’t mind hearing about them – within reason. My impatience with the drama doesn’t stem from having cancer, honest. It’s not because I think I have it worse — if anything it’s just the opposite. I really believe my life is better than most. Yes, better. In spite of cancer, I genuinely believe my life is a happy one – or happier than the average at any rate, judging from the deafening howl of misery out there. I feel very much aware of my own good fortune: my happiness in my marriage, friendships, and family relationships alone is a more or less constant reminder of how good I’ve got it. Let’s not paint too rosy a picture — I am also acutely aware of my own misfortunes — but in the big picture, being surrounded by love and support and amazing, inspiring people, (not to mention being madly in love with your husband) is a pretty good place to net out, day after day. So, since I’m managing to mostly hold it together over here all I’m saying is, I don’t really want anyone killing my buzz with a song and dance, especially if a talk or a hug can accomplish more.
As for the Drama Queens, you just go ahead and cry yourself a river if you’ve got the blues. Life is full of troubles and we all have our reasons to be less than just perfectly content every once in a while.
Believe me, I’m not advocating any kind of Stepfordian complacency or stoic WASPy forbearance. When you feel the weight of your worries, better to share it than to let it crush you. I’m just saying: if you’re going to hit the stage let me exit the auditorium first, please. You don’t want me in the audience anyway – I’ll just be throwing you off your show with all my huffing and puffing & eye-rolling, and making of moon-eyes at my husband.