Before You Speak

I stopped by our favorite breakfast diner for breakfast with my youngest daughter.  The waiter asked about my health (he knows me from my dates with Joe-has seen me go from wearing scarves to hair again.).  Cass was sitting right there so I gave him the two-cent, politically correct version. He told me about his friend “Katy” and how she was dying from stage four cancer.  He started to go into detail about how it was in her brain, bones…  I watched my daughter physically recoil. I immediately interrupted him and changed the subject.  We recovered and ate our breakfast chit-chatting about her up and coming new laptop and ordering a book for her on Amazon. 

On the way back from the bathroom, I ran into a former teacher.   (Also a believer.) We caught up for a few minutes and then he said, “I heard through the grapevine you were sick.”  I briefly explained.  BRIEFLY.  (My little girl was at our table across the room.) He was shocked to hear that I had cancer and then asked, “Can I ask you a question?”  I should know when someone prefaces a question with permission to ask it that it is going to be a whopper or serious.  Sure….why not?  Just standing at Denny’s.  

“Are you scared of dying?”

Yes, that is the question I was asked in the middle of Denny’s.  You would think I would be used to that line of questioning but I am not.  My answer has changed in the last two years.  No, I am not afraid of dying.  I know where I am going.  I am afraid of suffering in front of my children and having them watch.  He wasn’t being malicious-I know as a believer he just wanted to know. Since he asked-I answered. 

I made my way back to the table when the waiter stopped me and said, “CeCe, you have to come meet my friend, Katy.  She is here!  I can’t believe it!  I will introduce you! It will make her feel so much better to talk to you.”  By all means, let’s make Katy feel better! I should have protested.  I kind of tried.  (I love this waiter though-didn’t want to make him feel bad.)  But really….just because I have cancer, doesn’t really mean I can handle meeting someone who is dying. It isn’t a sorority I want to be in.  

He propels me to Katy who is sitting three tables from my daughter.  I put myself between the two of them, trying to shield Cass from hearing or reading lips. I shook the frail woman’s hand.  Frankly, she looked like hell. She asked me what kind of cancer was I fighting and then launched into her battle.  I have to confess, I was shell shocked at that point but very aware of the fact that my daughter was walking up behind me.  I was in the process of retreating (Did I mention I wanted to run out of there?) when I realized my little girl was politely standing beside me.  

Cass is probably the classiest kid-she would rather walk on glass than be rude. Since I knew she had caught the cancer connection, I introduced Katy as a “survivor” and a friend of our waiter’s.  To quell the discussion, I added, “She is undergoing treatment too.”  (Hoping this would be a clue for Katy to censor the details.) 

She replied, “Well, the doctors at MDA have ran out of treatments for me.  There is nothing left.”  

I wanted to yell, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? SHE IS STANDING RIGHT HERE!!!!!! Manners were gone at that point.  I excused myself as quickly as possible.  So fast, in fact, that I almost forgot to pay.  Cass had to remind me.  I threw the money at the clerk and bolted.

As I final blow I got to go to the dentist where I promptly burst into tears with my dental assistant.  (It was behind closed doors and my mouth was bleeding-side effect.  I lost it.).  She had to stop several times just to let me settle down.  Poor thing. I felt so sorry for her.

This is ironic coming from me-someone who talks so freely but the lesson here is just because I have cancer doesn’t make me bullet proof for random cancer related conversation.  I am very open with my story, but there are limits.

Limit #1)

If you are not a close friend, it is probably not cool to ask “Are you scared of dying?” 

Limit #2) I really don’t want to meet someone that is losing the battle just because we are in the same “club”.  I don’t want the membership. I already have friends that are losing the fight and it is hard enough. Don’t need random strangers added to the list.

Limit #3) Think of Travis drawing the old-Alamo-line in the sand…Do not think the “bare all conversation" is ok in front of my kids. They are polite, beyond words, and they seem like they are hanging in there like champs.  But they are my kids. MINE. They are not adults.  I am the one with cancer but they are the ones that truly deal with it-my little soldiers. 

When you speak ask yourself-

Is it kind?

Is it truthful?

Is it necessary?