Talk to Skye

I’m not the only one at work with Cancer you know. Skye* (name changed just… because) was diagnosed last year… actually around the time my issues began. She has stage 2 Breast Cancer, and I think it’s migrated to her lungs as well. She was in the hospital with Pneumonia when they diagnosed her. She was there for 2 weeks after, recovering from pneumonia. When she came back to work, she didn’t tell us. She told our boss, and our supervisor, but not us.

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We all sort of found out… by accident really. Someone had to actually ask, about her health, about her disappearing once a week, twice a week. She’s been off the chemo for awhile, her hair’s grown back. She’s not cured, I know that much. And I get the feeling maybe things aren’t going so well.

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But that’s not really the point. The point is ever since I was diagnosed they keep saying, “you should talk to Skye.” “Invite her to lunch, maybe she can make you feel a little better about all of this.”

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And a couple of times I’ve started the email, started to walk over to her cubicle. But I stop. Because I don’t want to talk to Skye. I don’t wan to talk about her Cancer experience. Because it’s not the same as mine. Because hearing her story is not going to help me. It’s not going to make me feel better, and I doubt hearing mine will make her feel better either.

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My Cancer… is operable (as far as we know). Hers is not. Why would I do that? “Hey I know you’ve had Cancer for the last year too and it’s not going well, but did you hear? I have Cancer too.. except as long as it hasn’t spread they’ll just take it right out of me and I’ll be good as new.” Nice, right?

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But it’s not just that. The real reason I don’t talk to Skye isn’t that.

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Skye is in her 50s. She’s married. She has children. She has grandchildren. She’s lived this really varied life. She’s moved a lot, lived in a lot of places. Travelled. Loved. Been loved. Had a family. And that’s not to say her life has been free of sadness or pain or trials or difficulties. But she’s had time. She’s has experiences and moments in her life that I will never have now.

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She is in her 50s. And I am 30. She’s had kids, and I’m about to have those pieces ripped from my body. All of those pieces.

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I don’t want to talk to her. We have almost nothing in common anyway… except for Cancer, and even that isn’t that common between us.

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But I’m tired of hearing it. Of hearing about how Skye is dealing with it all, about how she’s been handling it for the last year.

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GUESS FUCKING WHAT? I’VE HAD CANCER FOR THE LAST YEAR TOO! They just didn’t know it. I don’t want to play the CancerComparison game. That’s not fun for me, it’s not helpful.

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Maybe I need an actual support group. I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.