When is Feeling Good Bad?
August 20th, 2009We Approach a Curve
I have two facts I can’t reconcile.
Today my sister goes in for her first session of chemotherapy. She has some problems which may force a delay, but they are trying to get it going today. It’s likely to be a pivotal day in her life, and it’s sobering. We don’t know what the oncologist will tell her today. We don’t know the therapy will start, and time is wasting. We can’t even guess what her scans are going to say.
On the other hand, I woke up with a strange and seemingly inappropriate feeling of enthusiasm and optimism about life. I was very happy. And I don’t know why. For a while, I’ve had the feeling that something wonderful was about to happen to me.
It doesn’t make any sense.
When your family faces a health crisis, you don’t want to fall into the trap of being miserable all the time. You don’t want to lose sleep and be unable to enjoy life, and you don’t want to become depressed and ineffective. But you have to take things seriously and make sure everything is done right.
The other day my aunt mentioned the stages of grief. Some people claim there are seven, but I’m more familiar with the theory that there are five. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. So far, the theory has not panned out. Not even close. There was depression at first, and since then I think all three of us have been in denial to some extent. There has been regret (including vicarious regret) which isn’t a named stage. I haven’t noticed any manifestations of the other things, unless prayer can be considered bargaining. That can’t be true, though, because I don’t offer God anything I wasn’t offering him to begin with, and my sister doesn’t seem to be changing her approach toward him. I’m doing the things a Christian is supposed to do; I’m praying more and so on. But I don’t have anything new to put on the table.
Denial is a slippery thing. Before the diagnosis, my understanding of denial was it caused people to pretend their problems didn’t exist. The diagnosis is wrong. The call from the ER doctor went to the wrong number. You must have entered the wrong symbol when you checked the price of your stock. Your kid was on the other bus. Things like that. But now I think you can accept the reality of a diagnosis and still be in denial to some extent. You can forget the gravity of the situation and end up taking longer to do things than you should. You can engage in displacement behavior.
If that’s denial, we may be in denial.
When you’re diagnosed with a dangerous disease that progresses rapidly, you have to take the lead, or you have to let someone else take the lead. Your family can’t shoot you with a tranquilizer dart and drive you to the places you need to go. Regardless of who is in denial, only one person’s denial is likely to be damaging. The patient calls the shots. The patient has to plan and execute. That is unfortunate, because they can’t be counted on to do what they should. My dad often says he wishes he could have locked my mother in a closet and deprived her of cigarettes until withdrawal was over, because it might have kept her from dying from cancer. Life doesn’t work like that, and neither does addiction.
I don’t run things, so I suppose my state of mind is not a major factor here. I am doing what I can. I don’t think any harm will result from my feeling good, and if sorrow and grief are coming later, feeling good now is surely a victory. But I find it a little confusing that I can have periods of real happiness, and that I have this feeling of positive expectation about my own life. I feel as if God is up to something, possibly having nothing to do with my sister, and I also believe the degree to which a patient is willing to cooperate and do the right things affects the way family members feel.
There’s another variable in play here. I’ve found that the more I pray, the less I am able to perceive grief. I don’t like to admit that, because it makes me sound like a psychopath, but it’s true. When I found out my mother was on her deathbed, I prayed constantly, and I worked myself up into such a state that when she actually passed, I couldn’t fully feel it. I thought this would be the most unbearable moment of my life, but it wasn’t. Was that the fruit of faith and prayer, or was it my own mind, putting off grief the way a soldier puts off terror? And if you don’t fall apart when someone dies, is it because you don’t care as much as other people, or is it because of your strong belief that death is the beginning of a better life? I think most people see human beings when they look at dead bodies. I have never felt that way. When I look at someone who has died, in my heart, I always feel that I’m looking at something like a vacant house. A place where a person used to live. I truly feel that. I’m not just saying it. And while I’m scared to death of disease and accident, I’m not worried at all about death itself. Part of me looks forward to it, because this life is so defective and tainted. I want to be in a world where things work. My biggest reason for wanting to remain alive is that I want to be here for my dad and my pets.
Keep my sister in your prayers. I think our lives are going to change considerably over the next week.
August 20th, 2009 at 9:48 AM
There is already good in your life. Modern medicine is a miracle in its self. Your sister is receiving love and support she might not have received in the same way several years ago. That is good, that is also a miracle. Pray for the blessings now and those to come. I pray for her healing, your father and for you.
I have a prayer request for a friend of mine. She was just diagnosed with stage 4 lobular breast cancer. A devious one that is not seen with mammograms. It has spread to lymph glands and bones. Not a good prognosis.
I hate to lay another cancer on your prayer lists. but here it is. Her name is Sharon W. Her attitude is either denial or complete acceptance, I think the latter and she has a cheerful heart.
August 20th, 2009 at 9:50 AM
You would think God would not want us praying about every little thing, but the Bible seems to indicate that he wants us to pray about as many things as possible. Even trivial things. So I suppose we should take the same position and be glad when anyone adds to our prayer lists.
August 20th, 2009 at 2:16 PM
The description of your emotional state is amazingly telling…I think you have received grace from Our Lord.
August 20th, 2009 at 3:25 PM
I understand fully your comments about a dead person’s body being like a vacant house. I referred to it as a shell when siblings questioned why I wasn’t broken up over the sight of our deceased mother. Like you, I see where they once were but are no more. It’s almost as though that body is an alien creature.
And while I’m still trying to wring the most joy and adventure I can out of life, I also relate to your statement about wanting to hang around this mortal plane for the sake of your dad and your pets. I’m down to just pets, but they need me! I’ve purchased a small life insurance policy and made a fellow animal-loving friend beneficiary so she’ll have the means to care for whatever animals I might have at the time of my death.
Steve, thank you for your insight on so many other topics (I don’t read the tool stuff, because I’m a girlie girl, but most everything else is great). You write with great skill and humor. I appreciate, too, how well you proof your work before publishing. Many bloggers’ sites are full of typos and other errors. You take care with that, and it makes reading your work an even greater pleasure.
Also, I’m praying for your sister, and (like you) I believe she’s on God’s mind–even if He isn’t on hers.
Keep rockin’ Steve.
August 20th, 2009 at 5:04 PM
When my first wife died I had the strongest feeling of regret for months. I felt like I did not do enough to help or get her help. She hated to go to the doctor even when she knew she had a life threatening problem and I did not push as hard as I could have. I still have periods when it comes back but I have come to realize you can’t change things in the past and can only work on the future. I will continue to say prayers for your sister and everyone I read about here.
August 20th, 2009 at 6:18 PM
When you wake up feeling good, don’t feel guilty about it, thank God for the gift. What good are you if you’re all bogged down with useless guilt and remorse? You did nothing to cause your sister’s problems. Are you not doing all you possibly can to help? Why shouldn’t you feel good?
Humans are amazing. We can feel deep grief and still laugh at a joke. We can be so angry we could easily kill, yet at the same time comfort someone in pain. Hell, we can do all these and more simultaneously.
Do what you can and enjoy it when you feel good. God knows none of us are perfect. Why do you suppose he sent Jesus to us?
Gerry N.
August 20th, 2009 at 7:02 PM
Lots of great comments. Thanks, all.
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Gayle, I can’t explain the proofreading thing. I am the farthest thing from a detail-oriented person, but I was born with some freakish abilities. I read twice as fast as most people, and I made it to the National Spelling Bee when I was a kid, because I was nearly incapable of making a spelling error. Now old age has set in, and more and more, I find typos and spelling errors that would have jumped out at me instantly twenty years ago. It only takes me a few seconds to read and check a blog entry, and I usually do it five or six times, but things are getting past me. They say old pianists sometimes lose their perfect pitch. I guess all freaks fade with time. It’s embarrassing to lose a mental step, but I suppose becoming like other people makes me more understanding of their mistakes.
August 20th, 2009 at 7:05 PM
Your description of your mood reminds me of something I experience from time to time. I kind of know what’s coming by being given the emotional message first, if that makes sense.
I think joy comes sometimes when you realize that you are not in charge. Its a great relief.
August 20th, 2009 at 7:29 PM
First time I was at a funeral and saw my grandmothers’ body, I understood what was meant by the comment “That’s not them, it’s where they used to be.” It really was.
Whether someone goes through the stages, I think there’s something of an individual factor there. When my ex was first diagnosed with cancer(still married then) I don’t remember denial; I do remember being worried and scared shitless. Second time, after the divorce, the scared wasn’t there as bad but the worried was. Even more, since there were now two kids involved.
If prayer gives you the relief you’re feeling, you’ve got something to be thankful for; that’s a wonderful thing.
August 21st, 2009 at 3:16 AM
My prayers are with your sister and all of those amongst us that suffer. Over time it has come to me that we will all be reunited on the other side.
Your observation that Christianity is the religion with a God so kind, he died for us, rather than demand subservience and our dying for him.
My wonderful Uncle once related to me that the greatest part of grief is guilt. He told me that when his sister/my mother passed. The thought moves me to be a better person to others while the opportunity exists.