Playing the Cancer Card
It’s a dead giveaway wherever I go. My cane, always by my side, draws curiosity from others like moths to a flame. Especially cab drivers. They love bringing it up, probably assuming I twisted my ankle. I’m not bald or frail and look healthy - no outward signs of cancer - but what’s intended as innocent small talk can quickly bring them a world of shock. If I take it there.
One thing you get used to after being diagnosed is the constant assessing of whether or not the moment is right to share. For more private individuals, it may seem natural to avoid at all costs. It’s certainly safer to keep the energy light and carefree. On the other hand, I’m a pretty open book. I’ll discuss what’s going on when appropriate and it often leads to intimate, heartfelt conversations. Life is short. I want to know who’s in this world and what they’re up to… Even discussing sports, my friends and I get so passionate because it’s fun to share the storylines and you learn about someone’s personality from their opinions along the way.
There are plenty of other perks to the cancer card. I get better seating at concerts (pairs great with medical marijuana), the staff at local movie theaters allow my organic tea and healthy snacks even though it’s against policy… I’m also given more leniency in day-to-day life. Family and friends cut me slack for limitations. I hope at least.
But this willingness for transparency can backfire. “I was diagnosed with cancer” can kill a vibe REAL fast. It’s not something you casually drop in public when someone asks what you do for a living. There are plenty of people who react like a deer caught in headlights. Fortunately, my job as an executive recruiter trained me well for building rapport with others and I’m always prepared for an audible to bring the conversation back to safer grounds.
And everyone has a unique relationship to cancer. Maybe they’ve been affected personally, and if not, they’ve likely been through the ringer with a loved one. I can’t control what’s stirred up. There have definitely been times where people took it too far, losing sight of who they’re sharing with as they unleash their personal horror stories. It’s an emotional topic and I can’t blame them for not being more empathetic, especially if I appeared secure enough to bring up the C word in the first place.
Opening up also requires enough time and energy to unpack. Just the other day, a neighbor walking by noticed my cane and mentioned it was his first day back on his feet from crutches. I congratulated him and when he asked my expected timeline to heal I let him know the story. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks… It was uncomfortable and I worried I had sprung too much on him, that he regretted acknowledging me in the first place. In reality, his brain was busy computing. Turned out his crutches were actually related to a cancer scare and he was debating whether or not to get into it. A few moments later we shared a refreshing feeling of comradery and learned we even used the same surgeon.
Perhaps that’s what I love most about the cancer card - when you’re willing to be vulnerable, others often reciprocate in form. I’ve been blessed to have friends and even complete strangers confide in me, unveiling layers normally kept private. That sense of privileged communication is a joy like no other. The reminder that we’re all in this crazy game together. That we each face challenges, hardships, struggles and all kinds of humbling experiences. And when we’re willing to put aside the tough exterior and let someone in, even for just a few minutes… Well, that’s when the magic happens.
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