Breathe Easy, You've Found Me ((HUGS))

People will wonder why this blog is needed, why minority midwifery student? It's very simple actually; I was looking for this blog...but I couldn't find it...so I created it. We all have unique experiences, and every experience, every story, can help someone else. I am a black girl from the hood at an ivy league professional school. That, alone, is reason enough to write. Somebody was looking for this blog. Someone wanted proof that what I'm doing can be done - even when you come from where we come from.

To that person especially, WELCOME.

Friday, August 24, 2007

The Friend with Cancer Dance

There is this new dance that I notice I'm learning now. I have a very dear friend with stage IIB cervical cancer. I got to spend time with her and her family while I was home for a quick summer break, and things were pretty close to normal, including her appearance which I was grateful for because if she looked sick I would not have been able to lie about it - that's just how we are. But now I'm back home with the man (over a thousand miles away) so we're back to phone calls. This is when the dance takes place. She is the lead, because she is the one with cancer. So that leaves me trying to follow her ups/glides (I didn't throw up today. I bathed today. I got out of bed today. I left the house today) and her downs/dips (The PAIN. Nausea. Constipation. Did I already say PAIN?) without stepping on her toes or missing the beat. To not register the difference between I'm calling because I want to have a normal "everything is not about me" conversation and "I have cancer dammit!" is to miss the beat. As a dance partner I want to be able to not only keep to the beat, but also to anticipate the next step. In other words, I want to know the side effects of the medications and be ready with some suggestions to combat them. I want to have a story that's funny when it's needed, or an effective listening ear even if there's only moaning on the other end. I want to remember to send texted motivation and inspiration. To turn my phone up at night so I can hear it if it ever rings. This is a weird dance. I thought it would be easier because I call myself a compassionate person, but the truth is it's harder. I have to continually convince myself to not walk on eggshells because we are not egg shell friends. But these are different circumstances. It's like trying to still drop it like it's hot after you've comprehended the lyrics. Or trying waltz to Reggaeton. It's pretend. How does one pretend as though cancer is not the only thing that matters in this moment? I'm not good at pretending.

Let's hope I'm a good dancer.

1 comment:

that big girl said...

wow. an incredible post.

seems in all those movies with ballroom dancing, there's at least one scene where one of them falls or shows their undies and invariably they keep rolling. I think that's what NOT being eggshell friends will mean here - ya'll can just keep rolling even if you stumble a bit.