When I originally started this web-site, my aim and goal was to try and help "bridge the gap" between those diagnosed with cancer and those not. I started with a simple poll, to see who would be driven to my site. Something relatively simple, I thought. I can not believe the results. Not one single person from outside the realm of my cancer community came to view my site. I posted this link on other sites, other than the MPIP board. I know, without a doubt that the majority of my readers have come from the cancer community. I am perplexed and baffled. I feel like, I am leading a double life. I have been feeling this way, for quit some time. Why is it, that when someone is diagnosed with cancer, everyone seems to become distant and stray away? Why is there some unwritten rule that we shouldn't be talking about this subject matter in our routine conversations with family and friends? I am completely discouraged. I am upset and hurt. Before I was diagnosed with cancer, I talked to everyone. I donated money to the United Spinal Association, and Pathway for Children's Sponsor's. I did not discriminate. I did not segregate. I listened. I offered encouragement. I didn't treat the Walmart door greater, who happened to be in a wheelchair, with any difference than any other.
I recently ran into an old friend who I hadn't seen for almost ten years. We caught up a bit, summarized the years; and then, I was asked, the inevitable: "how have you been"? Naturally, I answered with honesty. Why shouldn't I? I told her, that I had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago and just finished my treatments and that I wasn't feeling so well. I said it, non-challantly. As, a matter of fact. I wasn't looking for sympathy. I was merely looking for conversation. Needless to say, I hadn't got to ask how she had been. She ended the conversation abruptly. She really didn't know what to say, I imagine. There are, though, those, who engage in conversation when I mention my diagnosis. They are truly sincere, and sensitive; willing to talk and listen. They seem to be the few. The minority.
I know, I can't change the world. I know, I can't change people. I do know, I can try and make a difference.
"Today nearly 10 million people are living with a cancer history"; if this statement is true, where are they? Hiding out, taking polls on the internet, in their taboo corners of life? Seeking to obtain knowledge and power to heel. Yet, human compassion is an important factor in the healing process. Where is the humanity? In this vast land, we have yet, to bridge the gap of life.
I recently ran into an old friend who I hadn't seen for almost ten years. We caught up a bit, summarized the years; and then, I was asked, the inevitable: "how have you been"? Naturally, I answered with honesty. Why shouldn't I? I told her, that I had been diagnosed with cancer two years ago and just finished my treatments and that I wasn't feeling so well. I said it, non-challantly. As, a matter of fact. I wasn't looking for sympathy. I was merely looking for conversation. Needless to say, I hadn't got to ask how she had been. She ended the conversation abruptly. She really didn't know what to say, I imagine. There are, though, those, who engage in conversation when I mention my diagnosis. They are truly sincere, and sensitive; willing to talk and listen. They seem to be the few. The minority.
I know, I can't change the world. I know, I can't change people. I do know, I can try and make a difference.
"Today nearly 10 million people are living with a cancer history"; if this statement is true, where are they? Hiding out, taking polls on the internet, in their taboo corners of life? Seeking to obtain knowledge and power to heel. Yet, human compassion is an important factor in the healing process. Where is the humanity? In this vast land, we have yet, to bridge the gap of life.
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