Do People Laugh at Cancer?

A few days ago, I mentioned to someone that I would sure like to do X, that X had been my plan, but that now X wasn't possible. She asked why. "Dialysis," I replied. She responded with a laugh, that inappropriate laugh that some people often use in such situations.

Her response made me wonder: Do people laugh at cancer too? Not in a general sense, but to the cancer patient's face. The next day I received an answer.

(I wondered about cancer because healthy people consider cancer the ultimate in health challenges. I'm not sure there is any one worse condition, but I have often wondered if cancer deserves this spot. After all, with cancer you either go through an awful time and then you're fine or you go through an awful time and then you die anyway. But you don't generally have to deal with cancer for decades or all of your life, though I'm sure there are exceptions to this. But any way, cancer seems to be at the top of the heap of physical challenges in most people's estimation, so I wondered about cancer and inappropriate laughter.)

I was attending a tai chi class that is taught by a cancer survivor. I asked him about his T-shirt, which advertised a river-rafting company in Idaho. I asked if his wife had gone with him. He said no, that the trip was only for cancer survivors. Another person in the class made a comment and laughed. That inappropriate laugh.

I then noticed the instructor's reaction. It was clear to me, even if no one else noticed, that he was disturbed, perhaps perturbed, by her laughter. I was seeing on his face the same reaction that must cross my face, and I didn't like it.

So, this is something I'm working on: Not allowing inappropriate laughter or insensitive comments to ruffle my feathers. In fact, perhaps the best way to help this process along is to smile and brighten my eyes when this occurs. Not that the other person has to see the smile, but more of a smile as one does during meditation or while taking a walk alone in the woods. A light smile that in and of itself lightens the mood and keeps me focused on my true nature. Rather than feel hurt because the other person is slighting my problems, turn it around and smile as if these problems are illusory.

As Tuyen Tran, the Vietnamese friend who long ago introduced me to zen, said, "Which is bigger: You or your problem?" I have been responding to these insensitivies as if my problem is bigger. Regardless of how the other person would answer that question, I need to start answering it with "I am!"

The Appropriate Role of People in One's Life

Rasputin is a great teacher. He has reinforced lessons I thought I had learned long ago, but were in need of relearning. For example, he loved Canada, absolutely loved walking without a leash and romping in the woods. But he is equally happy here in the city, sleeping the day away, playing with his toys, and going for walks on a leash. The lesson: Be happy wherever you are and whatever you're doing.

Rasputin is also helping me put people in perspective. I confess I am and have always been a romantic, with fantasies not just of being swept off my feet by a wonderful guy but also of adventures with a lifelong friend, a woman with whom I would share my feelings and she, hers; a comrade who would travel with me and be like the sister I never had. In other words, I have always wanted from friends and lovers an intimacy that either very, very few people are capable of or the people I have known are not willing to or able to provide. This has so often been a huge disappointment for me. But this has been my problem, not the fault of others. It has been my mistake for expecting from others what they are unable or unwilling to give.

Since adopting Rasputin, my expectations of people have greatly diminished. If people are insensitive, I have Rasputin's unconditional love and acceptance to go home to. If friends don't have time to get together, Rasputin is always ready for a walk or a belly rub. If there is no person to talk with, Rasputin is the best listener I've ever known, looking at me with 100 percent of his attention focused on my every gesture and word.

Rasputin is helping me put people in perspective. They are busy with other things and with other people. If they don't have time or energy for me, that's OK. It truly is.

As my friend Araia, the nature spirit who dwells in the woods of northeastern Washington, told me many times, "Heidi, if you get a dog, you'll forget about a man." She's absolutely right. I had been thinking a great deal about one particular man, fantasizing about him and being frustrated by not having him. Now I hardly think of him at all, and when I do, there is no urgency to it, no desperation.

And I must admit that my relationship with Rasputin is far better than any I've ever had with a man. He's more loving, affectionate, trusting, and playful than any man I've ever known. He's got a great sense of humor. He's filled with joy. He never complains or criticizes. He doesn't offer advice. And he doesn't psychoanalyze me. And he does not have breasts and he is not "pregnant," like most men. He's trim and good-looking.

So, thank you, Rasputin, for helping me to see people as they are meant to be seen. They can be wonderful in small doses, provided I have no expectations for them and do not think about them when they're not around.

Learning to Accept the Insensitivities of Others

Inappropriate laughter. Insensitive comments. These are the sort of things one might expect from strangers or from one's enemies. But most often, at least in my experience, they are put forth by friends.

A sensitive subject will arise, and the friend will laugh as if it is such a trifle or will say something that is dismissive or something that makes me realize that we are living on different planets.

In one recent case, I was at a barbeque. The hostess's stepmother said that it is easy to do nothing all day. The hostess turned to me and said, "That's what you're doing, Heidi."

This made me wonder: Do healthy people really believe that having a chronic illness means you are doing nothing? If so, I would be very happy if they would like to trade places and do all my "nothing" and I take up their "something."

I estimate that when I add together all the hours each day I spend in medical tasks--10 1/2 hours of dialysis each day and another 45 minutes of set-up and clean-up; checking and recording blood sugar levels and blood pressure; driving to and participating in doctors' appts., lab tests, and diagnostic exams; massaging my feet, hands, ears, and eyes to increase blood circulation and prevent amputation and blindness; going to acupuncture appts.; hospital stays and paramedic dramas; ordering, getting, and organizing meds; emailing and phoning doctors and nurses; clinic visits; online research on kidney disease; attending kidney conferences and support groups--I must average at least 15 hours a day in just attending to my body. So add to all this "nothing," I still work as a writer, editor, and massage therapist; do my housework, cooking, and cleaning; pay my bills; and care for my mother's finances, errands, and medical care. Oh, yes, and Rasputin! A whole bunch of nothing, for sure.

Yesterday I spoke of this to Aaron and told him that I have to learn how to keep these people's insensitivies from affecting my health and well-being. Perhaps the best way to deal with insensitivities is to pretend that the comments were issued by children rather than by adults. For example, if a young child came up to me, pointed to my stomach, and said, "Why do you have tubes coming out of your tummy? Are you a robot?" I would laugh. The child is ignorant and doesn't know that this is inappropriate. That is how I need to start treating adults who say insensitive things or laugh at things that are difficult for me. Just think of them as children who don't know any better. Even Jesus took this approach. When he was on the cross, he said, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."

Of course, as Aaron pointed out, this does not make for very deep relationships if you can't talk about how you're feeling and if you always have to fill the archetype of the happy sick person. That's true. But that's why I've got Rasputin! That little joy bucket is pure unconditional love. I am so very blessed having him in my life. The desire for deep, meaningful human interaction has significantly diminished since he's been with me. Of course, I am open to true love or a deep friendship, but they're not something I think much about now. Thank you, thank you, thank you, forces of the universe, for sending Rasputin to me.