I believe that everyone deserves to love and be loved.  There is nothing better in life than love.

If someone I loved was in trouble or struggling, I would go to great lengths to help them (whether they wanted help or not).  I could imagine that people in my life were doing the same, although I didn’t know what that might entail.  The thing about helping someone when they don’t want it, is that it so easily goes from being a wonderfully-felt and intentional way to show you care, to interjecting yourself where you aren’t wanted, or worse, taking advantage of, or manipulating situations to your end.  Love can be all happy and light, or veer dangerously into control, manipulation, and plotting.  So often ‘helping’ turns into knowing what’s best for somebody.

I won’t ever know the full extent to which the darker types of activities were focused on me and my life.   I maintained my privacy, not out of the intent to exclude others, but rather to avoid being the center of attention.  Unfortunately, my confidentiality inspired others to seek out information and talk a lot about the little they knew.  It was very difficult to control the narrative when Wayne and my family were leaking information, like a sieve, to all and sundry.

When I encountered acquaintances and friends, I never knew what the individual knew about my circumstances, what they’d been told about me, and especially how they filled in the blanks of my story.  It was stressful, not knowing what they expected from me, and how I was supposed to act. For instance, my friend Sarah knew about my situation from the conversation that her husband Mitchell and Wayne had months earlier, after I’d been in the hospital.  She and her husband had the idea that I might have attempted suicide.  So how do you then behave in front of people who mistakenly think you’re suicidal? How do you get back to an honest, comfortable relationship of trust when neither of you are sure the other person is being honest?

In fact, Wayne sharing information indiscreetly, and broadly, was probably one of the single most damaging acts against me.  When my network of friends heard different details from Wayne ranging from me not feeling well, to being crazy, and even suicidal, every one of them now became uncertain about how to behave around me, worried for my mental fitness, worried about my depression, and more. He created the environment that caused the largest rift in my social circle. This was the perfect way to isolate me from others and make me vulnerable. It also made me distrustful and uncertain about people and their motives when they approached me.  I never knew what they knew, what they believed, and who they were talking with. I felt on edge, feeling I had to reaffirm myself in their eyes.

I woke up on Saturday with a sense of dread, but also resolution. I wanted to move forward with my life and this was just another road-block in my way. I was going to treat this like any other task that needed to be completed.  Go to the appointment, cross it off my list, and go on with my day.

When my cellphone rang, I noticed it was from my friend Sarah, my best friend from high school.  I hadn’t talked to her in a long time.

“Nikita, I heard from your mom that you are going to see an Oncologist today. I am going with you. You need all the support you can get today.”

So much for my mom keeping my life private.  I wonder how many other well-meaning friends knew about my cancer already.

“Sarah, I’m fine. I’m sure you have things to do.  I can call you later and let you know how it went.”  I tried to push her off, but she was persistent.

“I’m not kidding. I am going with you.  And, your mom is too.  We love you and want to be there for you.  Cancer is not a walk in the park. You will need support.  Starting now.  So don’t argue.” I caved in to please them, more than for myself.

I wasn’t surprised Sarah and my mom were in communication.  They were colluding. My mom had seen Sarah in December when she came to see me, assuming I’d attempted suicide.

December 20, 2017
Kerr Residence

She approached the home a little apprehensively. After all, she wasn’t sure what to expect. What do you say to someone who has been in a mental hospital and might have tried to commit suicide? It’s so hard to believe and yet it apparently happened.  How do you help someone who couldn’t reach out to you in their time of stress?

Wayne answered a few moments after she knocked on the door.

“Hi Sarah. How are you?”

“Hi Wayne. I thought I would stop by and see Nikita if she’s around. I brought some food for you and the family.”  Sarah handed over a bag of carrot-ginger soup and some home-baked Christmas sugar cookies. Both were favorites of Nikita.

Wayne took the bag as he said, “Nikita isn’t here right now. She’s been staying at her parents’ house. You might want to take the food over there.”

“Keep it Wayne. You and Alex can enjoy it.  I’ll run up the street and see if she’s home. Thanks.”

Wayne closed the door and walked to the kitchen with the food.  He dumped the bag into the kitchen garbage.   He didn’t want to keep anything from Nikita’s friends.  It would be a sign of weakness to take gifts from her friends.

December 20, 2017
Mears’ Residence

 Sarah drove the short drive to the Mears’ house.

She walked to the door, knocked and waited a moment before the door opened.  It was Nikita’s mom.

“Hi Sarah. Nice to see you. Come on in.”

Sarah walked into the house while Mrs. Mears closed the door.

“Hi Mrs. Mears.  Is Nikita around?”

“Oh Sarah, Nikita is at work. Why don’t you come in and sit down.”

The two women sat and chatted for a while. Mrs. Mears shared Nikita’s situation and hospital stay with Sarah, as she’d already been informed by Wayne and Mitchell. Mrs. Mears was able to set the record straight – Nikita was not crazy nor was she ever suicidal.

Saturday, January 6, 2018
Mears Residence

We arrived at the office, I completed some paperwork, and they called my name.  All three of us got up, which probably confused the nurse who called my name.  I looked at my friend, but she told me I couldn’t do this alone, I needed moral support and a second set of ears.  I let them come.  (I wasn’t ungrateful for the help, but I felt too raw and exposed at this point to feel grateful.)

As soon as I saw the doctor, I took an instant dislike to him.  He was a dark-haired Caucasian man of middle-age. Average looking. Unexceptional really. Average Joe.

As I walked in, I had to question his professionalism.  No white Doctor’s coat, instead he was casually dressed in a button-down shirt, dark pants, and loafers. And that’s where my glance got stuck – on the shoes.  He was wearing these cheap-ass loafers that were covered in mud and torn up.  What the hell?  Sure, it’s Saturday morning, and probably his day off, but couldn’t you look like a doctor on the weekend for your patients? Of course, I would get the referral to the crappiest doctor.

Then, he started asking intake questions. “How much caffeine do you consume?”

“I drink a cup or two of coffee a day and sometimes cocoa.” I replied.

He said, “I just need to know about the caffeine.”

So I clarified that cocoa has caffeine as well, so I was giving him a complete answer.

“Oh, you caught me.” Here’s a doctor asking me about caffeine consumption and he doesn’t realize that cocoa has caffeine.

As he’s going through the questions, I’m looking at this man who looks unkempt, messy, dirty, and I’m thinking no effing way is that man putting his hands on me. I will not be back.

My thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a scratching noise. My mom, Sarah, and I all look at each other. Silence.  Then it starts again. I look in the direction of the noise. As I’m turning my head toward the noise, the doctor looks at me and watches me turn.  He offers up the information that it’s his dog, on the other side of the wall, in his office.

The doctor turns his attention to a report on the computer.

“Yes, it’s cancer. I’ll need to physically examine you,” he says.

I’m thinking, I don’t want this creepy guy touching me. I kept looking at the others to save me.  I couldn’t say anything. I was trying to channel it to my friend, so she could save me from him…but she’s not getting the communication.  And that scratching noise again. I’m feeling sympathy for the dog, being trapped, wanting to get out. Like me.

After he examined me he said, “Yep, its cancer. When do you want to get on the schedule? Besides my Oncology specialty, I’m also a general surgeon, so I do all surgeries. With breast cancer you need to see all the medical specialties to develop the overall plan, which determines the order of treatment. You’ll need a medical oncologist appointment soon.  Once we get all the inputs, we’ll determine the surgery plan. Some get chemo then surgery, while others have surgery than get chemo.  Radiation is always number three. “

I don’t know what that means.  Scratching noise again. It’s persistent. Like the dog really wants out. Maybe he has to pee.  I wonder if the doc gave him any water.  And what will the back of the door look like? Will the clinic make him pay for the damage? The dog sounded pretty decent size. It sure wasn’t some Chihuahua on the other side of that door. More like a Beagle or Labrador sized dog.

“Given the progression and the invasive nature of your cancer, we’ll need to do a double mastectomy.”

I’m hearing that both will be gone.  My mind moves to how creepy he is.  And I don’t like him. I wonder if his dog likes him.

The dog has been quiet for a while.

“I need to process all this information. I still haven’t seen my primary physician and I want to talk to her.”  I am not going to go further with this meeting when I don’t even like the doctor or trust him.

He says, “OK, but get on the schedule right away.”

On our way home, I was digesting all the information he had shared – technical terms about the type of cancer, the size, the invasiveness, and so on.  It was like a whole new vocabulary I was learning and too much to absorb within the 30-minute appointment.

“What do you think about him?” Sarah was the first to talk on the way home. I think we were all absorbing the bad news.

“He was creepy and too old. I want a younger person with current treatment knowledge, not a dinosaur.” As I said this, I was still not really letting my brain absorb all the details I’d heard.  I needed to have some time alone to really digest all that had happened in the last few days.

Sarah replied, “The older doctors have a lot of experience…”

Was she worried I would get derailed by looking for another doctor and waste precious time?  I was too embarrassed to admit that it was really about his dirty-ass shoes. I thought she might think it was weird and I didn’t want to draw attention to myself in that way, if you know what I mean.

Feeling lost, ungrounded, like I was back in the ocean undertow being swept away from safety, I struggled to not be overwhelmed.  Things happened to me, I tried to control myself and my reaction, tried to fix things, but then the world would spin out of control again.  I appreciated that Sarah was there to help me but her turning up, knowing things I hadn’t told her, acting like we all knew the story, confirmed that people were talking and manipulating things behind my back.

When I thought about everything I had been feeling in my body over the last many months, I wasn’t surprised by the cancer diagnosis. On the other hand, I was shocked. Why would it be me, in my family?  I’m the healthiest one. I was the one that ate healthy, exercised regularly, maintained my weight, and never used drugs or smoked.  In fact, my aversion to medicines of all kinds made me think that I would not do chemotherapy. I was against that kind of poison. I knew that I was strong and I took care of myself to the extent that I didn’t think I was going to die. I wasn’t afraid of cancer killing me. At this point my focus was still on putting my family back together. That was still my priority.

I heard everything today but it was like we were talking about someone else, or maybe something off in the future in the sense that I didn’t feel panic or worry or even dread.  It was too fuzzy still. I did understand that there were many things to be done with doctors and tests but they weren’t fully in my frame of vision yet.  I just knew that I had to appease everyone by moving along with the appointments and treatment.

Photo by Dickens Sikazwe on Unsplash

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