Читать книгу Pink Ribbon Stories: A Celebration of Life - Tammy Miller - Страница 21

Moment 1. I’m a high school teacher. Early on I decided to tell my students about my diagnosis so they knew right from the start where I stood. I had my friend and co-worker in the room with me during my conversations with my three classes. Although I had practiced what I would say in advance, I found myself saying “Mrs. Francis will keep you abreast of the situation”. She and I just looked at each other after those words and started cracking amid the tears that were falling from my face. The kids realized early on that we were both going to have a sense of humor about a tough topic and it helped to break their speechlessness and it led to good questions from them.

Moment 2. I worked during chemo so one day as the end of the school year neared I was just ready for it to end (I felt like you’re lucky I’m here people). The same Mrs. Francis from above saw me walk through the door and said “Okay, I know you’re my friend and all, and I know you have cancer but I just can’t let you do this. You can’t walk around wearing Crocs with socks! You just can’t do it! I have to draw the line here.” Of course I asked a student who was so quiet and sweet and she said: “Uhm! Well....actually...uhm! you really should just...just take the socks off.” My friend told my other colleagues and I still get reminded of my “Crocs with socks” look.

Moment 3. When I was first diagnosed my husband would ask me to do things and I would reply “F.U.I.H.C!” (F U ...I have cancer!) if I just didn’t feel up to it. It became a running joke between the two of us and helped us through a tough time.

I don’t know if in writing this translates to funny moments but to me, during my rollercoaster of emotions these were funny stories.

Smiles…I do have a story on the flip side of this but with knowledge gained from it. I went to the Jersey Shore with my family because my generous co-workers raised money to give us a getaway. We went and had a great time. We had been there two years in a row before because it is a happy place for my kids. At the time, my kids were 5 and 7. They are two daring little boys that love rollercoasters and things. When you are on the boardwalk at night, it is filled with joyseekers. This night was no exception. I kept seeing people look at me (hairless and eyebrowless) and they would wince (the looks were like: “Aww this poor mom is going on the rollercoaster for the last time. How sad!” Sprinkled among the wincing and sad faces I would see a random smile. At the first and second smile I was like: “Why is this person smiling at me so big?” “Is this person crazy?” It wasn’t until the wincing lead me to break down in a wave of tears that I realized that the smilers had the knowledge I didn’t. The smilers were sending me a message of hope and positive thoughts because they must’ve known that I needed that. Before this I had been doing my usual routine outings with people that know me and knew I was doing well. It was the strangers feeling sorry for me that brought me discomfort, so the bottom line is, share your story with your own words when possible, and to everyone else I would say: if you ever see people you might suspect have cancer, just flash them a smile--it really is the best thing you can do.

Michelle lives in Stroudsburg, PA with her husband, Matt and sons, Daniel and Jeremy. She is a teacher at Pocono Mountain. You can reach her at mbeducadora@gmail.com.