You Say “Cancer”, I Say “La-La-La I Can’t Hear You”

We’re closing in on the second pinkest month of the year: February.  Yes, thanks to Valentine’s Day, next month will be saturated in pink and red, although thankfully, not pink ribbons.  However, if you just can’t resist the urge to add a little cancer reminder to your Valentine’s Day, I’ve got a splendid gift idea for you. 

I present for your consideration, The Pink Ribbon Snuggie.

I ask you, could there be a sexier Valentine’s Day gift?

And trendy, too, right?  I mean, everyone’s wearing a Snuggie these days.

Of course, your recipient may not have as much hair as our Snuggie model does.  In fact, she may be nearly bald, in which case may I suggest the addition of this little beauty?

A lint roller, you may recall, was a very handy tool indeed for removing the painful little dead nubbins from my nearly bald noggin.  How appropriate, then, that it come in pink ribbon flavor.

February is also the anniversary of my diagnosis, which was 3 years ago.  To look at me you’d never know, unless you know.   And therein lies the problem, because some people who know seem to have forgotten everything else they know about me.  The Cancer, it seems, has overshadowed any previous identity I had.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, that is one of the most difficult things about having the daggone cancer!  Seriously.  Being bald was a pain, but it only lasted a few months.  How many years will it take for people to stop associating me with The Cancer

Just yesterday, I ran into someone, who has seen me, repeatedly, over the past 3 years.    So she knows that I’ve been leading a normal life.  After about 3 minutes of small talk, the party in question lowers her voice into that hushed, concerned tone that people always use when they ask, “So, how is your cancer doing?  Is it still in remission?”  I tried (in vain, I’m sure) to hide my irritation, as I assured her that I’m just jim dandy fine.  “Well, I hadn’t heard anything, so I just wondered,” she said.  “That’s because there isnt anything to tell,” I replied, again, trying to hide my irritation.  Mini Me, who happened to be standing right there, just turned away to chuckle to herself.

First of all, let me just state for the record that I HATE it when people say “your cancer” like it’s a pet or a family member.  How’s your grandma?  How’s your kid?  How’s your cancer?  See what I mean?  Second of all, do I ask you about your medical issues?  “So, Opal, do you still have those hemorrhoids?  I hadn’t heard anything, so I just wondered.  You know, it’s funny, just the other day I was thinking of you, but I couldn’t remember your name, all I could remember was that you had hemorrhoids.”  And thirdly, I’ve moved on and you should, too.  For crying out loud!  Really, you know what?  I don’t even think about The Cancer at all until you ASK.  Next time, let’s just have normal conversation, okay?

So, my dear readers, how do you think I should handle these folks?  Respond, as Hubster suggested, with a vague and mysterious, “I don’t want to talk about it”?  Put my fingers in my hears and sing, “La-la-la I can’t hear you?” Or is there a better option that I’m not thinking of?

Advertisements

5 Responses to “You Say “Cancer”, I Say “La-La-La I Can’t Hear You””

  1. Bagel Sis Says:

    So glad you cleared that up. I was just going to ask you the other day how your cancer was. Btw, I do still need to ask, How’s your foob? I bet he’s lonely.

  2. Mary Creger Says:

    My response to that awful question is:”I am doing just great and I even have a purdy new boob….ya wanna see it? Huh, huh?” That usually takes care of the problem or at least an offensive conversation. Actually it takes care of just about any conversation cuz the questioner doesn’t quite know what to say although just today my questioner replied with “bless your heart!” that’s a southernerizm I haven’t quite mastered.

  3. CandyRant Says:

    If it’s any comfort, I associate you with being deeply mentally disturbed, and with really good “mix tapes.” 🙂

  4. Theresa Says:

    How about, “I’m healthy and grateful it’s behind me.” Then, a positive change of topic. Or, ask them something incredibly personal and un-nerving. Either way, keep smiling!

  5. Terri Says:

    I’m late to the game, but I would be inclined to say something like your hemorrhoids comment, or “Taking a long vacation, if I’m lucky. That reminds me, how was your trip to (fill in the blank, but don’t say “hell”)”

    I think the most offended I ever became was at Target while Christmas shopping. Wearing my wig (prob. crooked) with barely any energy to pick out the “perfect” pair of shoes for my little niece, a clerk who was restocking the shelf finally asked me “so are you still doing chemo?” WTH??

    She tried to make everything all better, after experiencing my look of total & utter horror, by telling me she was a cancer survivor herself. I wanted to tell her being “outed” was the last thing someone wearing a wig, with no eyebrows or lashes, and skin the color of yellowish sand, who was trying her best to finish her Christmas shopping, wanted.

    I didn’t though. I came to the conclusion it was her way of “reaching out” -albeit in a pretty freaky way!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: