Sitting in the oncologists office was a little stressful for both of us – but obviously it was insanely personal for June. I secretly think she asked me to be there because I am a therapist and she needed special company to get her through this doctor visit.
I kept repeating, “just breathe”. I reminded her we didn’t know anything and until we know we can’t let our thoughts control us. I did some relaxation exercises with her, which helped momentarily… then the doctor came in.
He stated just the facts, “You have a 9cm tumor in your left lung, the other problem is that it is pushing against your aorta.” I had my hand on June’s shoulder, I could feel her tremor and I knew she was fighting to breathe and not run from the room. My own heart was racing and I ran through my own relaxation advice.
As the doctor described the course of action, June took notes – it distracted her from emotion, but it was also good because his voice was a distant drone in my head.
One the way home, I drove through a prominent housing area. We looked quietly at the houses, changing colors, and nice cars. We didn’t talk except to point out something exceptional in our view. At one point, June said, “Oh God, how am I going to tell my family and work that I have cancer!” Remarkably, she immediately stopped that thought of emotion and said, “Oh my God, I have CANCER!” It was at that moment it was real. She was consumed with how overwhelmingly she could see it, hear it, taste it, smell it, and as she held her hands to her chest, she could literally touch it. I stopped at an intersection as she cried. It was her moment of truth.
So – we named it. We got angry at it. We yelled at it. We called it nasty. dirty names. We cussed it out. Then she looked at me with bright eyes, rosy nose, and said, “I’m ok. Let’s go.” On the drive to her house we discussed practical information for her to tell the kids and work. She decided the facts were best. We talked to her son first to break the ice.
It got easier after that. It was just another bit of information, like age, address, where she works, etc. The power was gone from the c-word. It no longer held mystery or drama. It no longer was unspoken.
Next time: the rumor mill
