Attitude is Everything or Whatever

   I thought having to sit for seven hours on end with chemicals pumping through me was torture enough until I was introduced to the social worker that would be coming to each of my treatment sessions. She wasn't 100% terrible and actually ended up doing some really cool things for me like getting me a gallery space in the Jennifer Diamond Library in my cancer hospital for the "Survivor Art Series" but I still wasn't ever fond of her visits mid treatment.
   Don't get me wrong. Social work is very close to my heart as my mother is a social worker and I have always wanted to get involved in that field...but being on the patient/client side of it all when I didn't ask to be? That was asking too much of someone that already felt like they had no control over what was happening.
   I was sent this peppy, pretty blonde that bounced around the hospital as if she wasn't surrounded by death and disease. Bright and cheery and here to tell you that "Things get better!" and that you just have to take things "one step at a time!" which I'm sure is very helpful for a lot of other people...I just don't personally like going to people for help when it comes to coping with what's happening to me. Again, I didn't ask for her...so it sort of felt forced upon me.
   She would make whoever was with me leave the room (which was generally just my dad) and ask me a series of personal questions all revolving around how I was feeling. For the most part I was rude and stand offish and gave her short, unhelpful answers.
"I'm no better than last time"
"Okay"
"I just hate it here"
"I just don't want to be here"
"I don't know"
All of which warranted responses like "Why do you think that is?" or her trying to figure out how she could help me even though I figured I had made it very obvious that her presence was only a bother (and the "Bite Me Cancer" merchandise that she gave me wasn't a big help either).
   I refused to go to AYA groups or anything that involved being in a supportive place surrounded by people I didn't know.
(She asked me if I wanted to go to some makeover day too to "feel prettier" and I think that also made matters worse)
All I'm sure she got out of me was that I hated being there, I hated that I was losing my hair, and I hated how sick I felt. I wasn't ready to divulge the rest of my feelings with anyone and I wasn't about to start with her. It must be sort of hard to understand when you aren't the one being thrown into the middle of a terrible situation. Right? But I guess they're trained or whatever. I guess I wish I had the option to tell her I didn't want to see her but maybe in the long run it was helpful to have someone outside of the entire situation that tried to care. Maybe. I'm still on the fence about it.
    It wasn't until after the entire treatment process that I was able to try and appreciate her incessant tries and also figure out how I felt about the situation more.
   In the hospital I was indifferent and cold and closed off.
   Behind closed doors, distanced from all the loud beeps and nurses and medicine I tried so hard and was eventually able to word how I thought a little like this:
--
Your bones scream for mercy from this sterilized sickness and the chemicals
You are dying from the inside out and you're going numb
You can't feel your fingertips anymore but what would you want to touch anyways?
There is a sword hanging above you held by a breaking thread and there's already a sharp needle in your arm
Your coughs taste like saline and as you brush your hair behind your ear you lose some in your fingers
And you are breaking and nothing feels right
You are asked if you have a will
You refuse to listen to these words
You don't listen to most of what's coming out of anyone's mouth because all you're hearing is how much pain you're in and how you'd rate it on a scale from 1 to 10
You are helpless in a body you thought you'd have a little more control over by age 20
And you are at a 10 and dead inside
--
Things were up and down always. But this quote stayed with me for the most part:
"Cancer may have started the fight, but I will finish it"

So yeah. Bite me, cancer! You fucking suck(ed)!...but you showed me a support system I didn't know I had and for that, I suppose I'm grateful.