Anyway, I digress. So there I was, on the street, crying on the phone with my cousin explaining to him, well, trying to convey that I was ok through my tears (he saw right through it), with my suitcase, waiting for a cab to go to L.A. My cousin, Dr. D, tried to convince me not to go...to stay with him and his wife, Mamasita, so that I wouldn't be alone and so that we could hang out. Well, since I was so ok, I decided to go anyway. I mean, that's exactly what I needed. To get away, as fast as I could. To go to Lalaland, frolic in the cancer causing sun and just forget that I had just been told that I probably had cancer. Yup, that's what I was going to do. And that's what my brilliant self did. I got in a cab with tears the size of grapes and made my way to JFK. As I got to the airport, I managed to calm myself down and convince myself that this little excursion would be the best thing for me. I would hang out with my grandma (who I absolutely could not tell, will tell you why in a sec), and then see some friends. the perfect distraction. Well, the one thing I didn't calculate into the equation was that a 5 and 1/2 hour plane ride was the perfect amount of time to let my thoughts fester and percolate so that I could conjur up every possible permutation of tragedy and convince myself that at this very moment, I had cancer in my pinky toe and was going to die. (Keep in mind that no one had actually told me that I had cancer yet.) On top of that, my genius self decided to tune my little satellite tv to watch the Celebrity Rehab marathon on VH1. Umm....hello numbskull. Sitting in a confined space in the sky, watching other people weep and moan about their addictions and personal problems is not the way to make yourself forget your problem. (Cancer tip #1: When trying not to freak out and stay calm, watch Comedy Central) Nope, basically, I was sitting having a nervous breakdown right in front of the Asian couple sitting next to me, trying to act like I wasn't a basketcase by looking out the window and occasionally smiling at them. I'm sure my red eyes and mascara running down my face didn't give me away at all. Anyway, to make a long story short, when I landed in L.A., I had officially made myself sick.
When I arrived at my friend, Lawless', apartment, I was in a complete state. I was so benevolent that I greeted her by running to her bathroom to get sick and then unceremoniously blurting out that I think I had cancer. Now normally I stay with my grandmother when I come to L.A., but this time, she asked me to stay with someone else because David (my grandfather) wasn't feeling well. Well, as I progressively deteriorated in front of Lawless, I finally made the fateful call to my grandmother and meekly asked, "can I stay with you tonight? My stomach's not right and I just need to be with you." After convincing everyone that I could drive (funny how psychosematic symptoms can be turned on and off at your mind's whim), I sped my way to my grandmother's house to see if maybe, being near her, I could pull myself together and silence the voice in my head that kept repeating over and over again that I was going to die.
Now to take you back a bit. The original reason that I had booked this trip to L.A. was to cheer up my grandmother, who was feeling a bit down since her husband hadn't been feeling well. Instead, I arrived a complete disaster, needing to share this enormous weight that had suddenly landed on my shoulders, but knowing in my heart, that my grandmother was one of the two people that I absolutely could not tell, at least not until I knew for certain what was happening. You see, my grandmother's life has been marked with loss. Not only did she lose my mother to cancer, but she also lost my aunt and grandfather (whom I never met) to cancer. More specifically, although my mother managed to conquer breast cancer, my aunt met a different fate. After years of sparring with her disease, my aunt finally faltered the same season that my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Fun right? Well, considering the history, I simply didn't have the heart to tell my grandmother, that me, the one who had flown out to cheer her up, had been marked with the same disease that took her two daughters and her first husband. I mean, honestly, how much can one woman take. But there I was, a nervous mess, standing in her bathroom shaking, repeating over and over again, "I can't tell you grandma, I can't tell you what's wrong. I just can't..." until finally, I gave into her gentle coaxing and said, "I had a test, and I may have cancer."
Now I don't know where my grandmother gets her ability to stay calm and collected in a crisis, but rather than joining me in my nervous spiral, my grandmother simply put her hands on my shoulder, looked me straight in the eye and said, "Dalia, you don't know anything yet, and even if it's the worst, we'll get through it. Now calm down and let's have a cup of tea to calm your stomach, and just know, you can always tell me anything. That's what I'm here for." And that's all it took. Suddenly, I was calm again. Suddenly, I could cope
As always, thanks for reading.
Straight from the trenches.
DT
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment