Thursday, 31 May 2012

My Announcement To The World

A little bit about myself: I'm a really private person. I don't know whether to say I'm a proud person or not, but definitely private. I mention the 'pride' word because I hate showing myself as vulnerable, or weak. I hate asking for help unless it's really something I can't do alone. This story is one where I feel: weak, vulnerable and embarrassed.

On 12 February 2012, I celebrated my 30th birthday. It's a big thing, having to tick a different tick box when completing surveys or filling in forms. I am starting the 4th decade of my life. The next day, I saw a doctor who had organised various tests in the previous weeks, and she and I shared the unfortunate and potential awkward circumstance, where she tells this patient some really bad news, and I get told I have cancer. At least, I think that's how it was for her.

"Mr Perez, we have received the results from the scans and we believe you have cancer."
"Oh...I take it, this is a bad thing?"

The doctor blinked several times, frowning with confusion.

"Yes, Mr Perez....it is."

Another little bit about myself: comic relief relieves. Maybe it's a coping mechanism. Maybe that's really how I am. But when I was told I had cancer, I wasn't surprised. I wasn't shocked. I didn't even feel like crying. All I could think of at that moment, was "What can I say to lighten the mood?"


When I left the doctor's office, I went straight to work. It was another regular day. Did my job. Then I'd get home, jump on the computer, play a few games, catch up with a few Facebook friends, then into some light research. Biopsy, check. More "regular days". Follow-up appointments, check. This continued for a few more weeks, until my doctor says she wants to give me medication.


It's now at a point where I had to tell my manager what's up. She cries at the news. All I could say was "It's nothing major, it's just cancer." She gives a burst of chuckles at my comic relief, but she still walks away, knowing it's a big deal.


Like I said, I'm a really private person. Maybe prideful too. But I am feeling weak, vulnerable and embarrassed. I feel weak because I'm no longer able to do the things I used to do - be a productive worker, enjoy what I do in my spare time (I can't even go to the driving range anymore :(), I have lapses in concentration and memory. I feel vulnerable because I value my privacy, and now everyone is going to know that I'm struggling against something rather important. I'm scared that when I beat this, that I can't be who the same person on 12 February 2012. And I feel embarrassed, because I now am relying on others, more and more, every day. I am losing my capacity to be self-sufficient, because I am no longer able to lift a lot of things with my left arm.


So there's my announcement to the world. I have cancer, in my left arm and in my head. I have broken the dark tinted glass walls of my privacy and pride. Maybe I won't regret this later on, because maybe it will help my struggle. 


Another little bit about myself: am feeling weak, vulnerable, embarrassed.


EDIT: Correction made, as suggested by my friend, Bryan. Cheers mate :D :D :D

4 comments:

  1. Hey dudio, that fucking sucks to hear. It must be going around at the moment. (That's dark humour, too.) What kind is it? I guess you can fb me if you'd rather not discuss here.

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  2. It was definitely the right thing to do, Taters, posting this up for people to read. It's much better to have the backing of friends during such a difficult time than it is to hide behind your dark, tinted glasses and pretend everything is OK.

    We value your quirkiness and humour in all situations, and there is nothing wrong with using it to hide how you truly feel. Took some guts to put this up there. And you know what? Having released the burden like this is actually a good step towards recovery. Not medically, but mentally and emotionally, it is a very good thing to do. And you will find that a lot of people will suddenly be out there, thinking about you, praying for you, and just hoping that you will beat this thing.

    Peace.

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  3. You're the man. We (the collective population of the world) are here for you. Try not to be embarrassed. We want to help.

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  4. OMG Peato! I'm crying as I read this. You are such a good person it totally sucks when things like this happen to wonderful people!! I'm so sad for you, but having had a member of my family beat cancer, I'm confident and feeling positive for you. All the best, and I think you are very brave. Thank you for sharing this, it is yet another reminder how fragile life is and not to sweat the small stuff. Thinking of you, Christina xox

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