New Take on the New Normal

During this round of infusions I realized something that seems a little odd.  I am good at this.  As I hear what I just said through the pink haze, I should probably be more specific.  I am good at being a cancer patient.  I suppose it is nice know I am good at something.  Still realizing that is kind of a mile marker of the new normal.

What does it take to be a good cancer patient?  I don't think I am good at everything involved, and am aware of struggling with shortcomings, especially in the areas of social support and connection.  What I mean by "good at being a cancer patient" is the more day to day stuff.  I know what to wear so that I am comfortable and warm but also can easily expose an arm for an IV.  I come in to the cancer center with my backpack, filled with laptop, Big Bang Theory and Modern Family dvds for humor therapy, (thank you Norman Cousins), I bring my own tea and spill less mug that the volunteer fills up with hot water for me.  I know just how to set up here, for me it is more ergonomic to use a bedside table with a sliding top than the lap board that fits the chairs.  So, I sit here, drinking my Naked Blue Machine, snacking on 71% organic dark chocolate and watching Sheldon and Lenard bump awkwardly through life.  I manage my IV stand with formula one handling skills as I weave through obstacles on my way to the bathroom, drifting it into position so that the lines don't tangle as I take care of business, speaking of....it is about that time...

Then the pump beeps so that the nurse can acknowledge it is time to shift into second gear.  With the early start and having the premeds on board (which saves my insurance company about $1000 and cost's me about $2.00) I should actually be out of here before lunch.  The lunch here is good for institutional food.  Friday's menus is better than Thursday, the manicotti is really good.  Still, I feel the beckoning of Trios salad from Brasserie 4.  But that my wait until later when I can finish the day with the chocolate mousse.

So I think I have this part down really well.  When I first realized I was a little proud of it.  It shows how I understand my own needs, am assertive in getting them met.  The satisfaction of achieving a bachelor's degree in self care.

The crux unfolds as the gravity of what being a good cancer patient begins to sink in.  I think the weaving analogy works quite well.  Cancer is a thread in my fabric, a visible thread of the pattern  for 24 years now; still an integral part of fabric from the beginning of my life, hiding behind the warp.  New threads tied in as I have experienced cancer from different vantages.  My first cognitive awareness as a cancer patient, seeing the cancer survivor mirrored in friends, loved ones with cancer at the end of their lives, seeing the sibling role from the other side, having my whole survivor paradigm tilted to a new axis with the death of my brother, facing a second diagnosis, good friends facing cancer in their parents, interning in a cancer center and working with hospice. At this point I could more easily change my retinal pattern than tease out the impact of cancer on my life.

In grief work, we have abandoned the idea of "closure," acknowledging that the impact doesn't not end because one comes to a cognitive realization.  Instead we talk about recognizing how the event has changed us, brought us to new vistas, helped us discover and know ourselves and others more fully, resigning the pain and the struggle and affirming growth and perspective.

Though the pain is never fully gone, the scars though fading, never disappear.  The "new normal" is much richer and fuller than the old normal ever could be despite the comfort of familiarity.  As hated as the phrase is when feeling need for the comfort of what is gone, it develops its own savor over time.  The richness and wholeness comes as the work of the journey is accepted and even at times embraced.  Though we would like to still have our loved ones with us, returning to the bland, soft, whiteness of before is hardly palatable compared to the complex savor of accepting wholeness.  We can no more go back than bleach and refine the flour baked into a loaf of bread.

The new normal is not something out there to search for, it isn't a treatment goal to be achieved.  It is already, and waiting for us to realize.  It is at the same time inside of us and all around us, part of us as we are part of it.  It is bigger than us, bigger than our understanding, beyond our control, yet our relation to it is subject to the influence our choices.  Accepting there is a new normal is a step in accepting what is, beyond us and outside the boundaries of ego.  

Full speed ahead through the pink haze!