Learning How to Do This…

About two years ago a client, who has since become a good friend, called out of the blue.

She’d heard that my health was poor and wanted to extend her support and friendship, for which both I’m grateful. We spent several hours on the phone that evening, after catching up she offered a suggestion for a TV show that I might enjoy watching called The Big C. She cautioned me that although a show about a woman dying of cancer might seem like a strange recommendation for someone in my state of declining health,  she was certain that I would appreciate its message.

Spoiler Alert – if you haven’t watched the show and wish to, you might want to stop reading at this point. Or not. That’s the nice thing about getting a heads up, you can make your own choices. Not a random thought, it does have relevance to the rest of this post.

I’ve watched Seasons 1 - 3, laughing and sobbing my way along. There have been so many moments that have resonated with me, and some that I wish I could have related to. Some episodes needed a second or third viewing in order for me to look past my initial gut reaction.

Cathy Jamison (played by Laura Linney) is dying, and is keenly aware of how limited her chances for survival are. She’s mother to an only child, a son close in age to Suzanna. She has a husband who stands staunchly by her side through thick and thin – even though that road isn’t necessary travelled at the same speed by the two of them. The overwhelming weight of me doing this without an adult partner can be crushing (my best friend’s unrelenting support notwithstanding, but there is a difference that she herself knows leaves a hole) and the show has been especially hard at times to digest for that reason. Suzanna is of tremendous support to me but I can never lose sight of the fact that she is my child, and it’s up to me as her parent not to look to her for comfort when I am afraid. She has already had to grow up way too quickly, and bears more responsibility and fear than I would ever want anyone to place on her. Least of all me, yet here we are.

I’ve learned how to do much of this from Cathy Jamison. Learned how to ask for help, learned how to grieve, learned how to make choices that are best for me and my daughter. Learned that it’s okay to challenge my medical team when I need more information or something doesn’t seem quite right. Learned how to answer questions (or sometimes how to dodge ones I’d rather not address), learned that unconditional love is indeed what rescues me when I’m I’m feeling weakened, ugly and diseased.

There’s no question about it, this all sucks. The circumstances have little wiggle room, but my attitude is completely within my control.

I’m in the process of downloading Season 4, the last in the series. Eight hours of what is bound to be a roller coaster ride for me, I’m planning on tackling the last of The Big C in one go this evening while Suzanna is out. She doesn’t need to watch as I process this, it likely won’t be pretty.

I’ve already tripped upon a season finale spoiler online, Cathy’s fate is much what I had expected. I’m not upset by this discovery, in fact I think it helps set me up for being able to relate more closely to her character. What additional lessons I’ll have learned by the time the final credits roll remain to be seen.

I’m prepared. A full box of tissues and an open heart. Much emotion has been building up over the last few weeks with events that haven’t gone well, I suspect that this will be just what I need to release it. Heads up.