This is based less on Friday night Reno's discussions and more on actual events that are happening within my life right now. I recently found out that a friend of mine had cancer. My natural inclination is to try and comfort this person and let them know that I'm pulling for them and that I'm here to help. However, shortly after I purchased a card and made plans to visit said friend, I was informed by the person who had shared news of their malady with me that I should hold off because they didn't want anybody to know. This makes total sense to me. I understood the rationale behind it completely and know that should I ever be afflicted with cancer...I'd probably handle things the same way. However, another friend who had just found out about the diagnosis couldn't wrap her head around it. Why would you not be willing to share your diagnosis with loved ones? Why hold that secret? Why not open yourself up to their care and support? Don't you owe it to them in your relationship with them to let them know? I figured we should probably analyze this debate with the following hypothetical:
You have just been diagnosed with terminal cancer. It will require occasional treatment but the physical symptoms will not become noticeable until very shortly before you die. You're doctor says that you'll die sometime between July 1, 2019 - December 31, 2019 and he says this with certainty. Who do you tell and when do you tell them?
I can easily tell you what I would do. That doesn't mean that it's an easy answer for everybody. If the diagnosis came today...I wouldn't tell a single soul. And I wouldn't tell them until I'm extremely close to death. I'd probably tell my family during the final week of June 2019...just in case I go quickly. It has nothing to do with comfort or support. It has nothing to do with sparing them pain or grief. It has nothing to do with shame or fear or their right to know. It has to do with the fact that I'm a sociopath. I like my life the way it is. I like most of my relationships the way they are. A cancer diagnosis would jeopardize all that. When you have cancer, people will start treating you better. However, by it's very nature this means that they start treating you differently. Many of my favorite relationships are very likely to begin with the greeting "What's Up, Douchebag?" That's just how we talk. There's a high degree of mutual insulting and mockery in regards to past, present, and potential future failures. I think this would practically disappear if people knew that I had cancer. Whatever right people might think that they have to know if I'm terminally ill, that right is severely overrun by my right to live the last five to six years of my life the way I so choose. And I would choose to do so with my relationships unchanged.
I don't want people to treat me any better because it's not honest. And the worst part is not the excess kindness or regard that you're granted by others: it's the pity. If there is one thing that I will not abide from people it's their god damn pity. This also stems from an advanced level of narcissistic sociopathy. I think that I'm the greatest thing since KFC introduced the Double Down. You don't believe me? The NSA can vouch for me. I'm confident that when they illegally tap into my shower webcam they sometimes pick up my daily affirmations in the bathroom mirror. They sound a lot like Abileen Clark in The Help. "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." And because of this narcissism, there is absolutely no reason that I want idiotic, insipid pity from people that I think I have it better than. Pity is insulting to the utmost degree. I try really hard to never pity myself...I sure as shit don't want anybody else doing it. If anything people should be treating me worse because I'm blowing tons of money on travelling all over the globe in my final years and they're super jealous. I am not a person who usually believes that the ends justifies the means. Therefore, I care why somebody is acting a certain way and not simply that they are acting a certain way. I want people to like me and respect me because I'm the greatest person they can bear witness to in their lives...not because I am terminally ill. It's a mistake not to look beyond people's decisions towards the motivations that are behind those decisions.
There is one exception to this. It doesn't apply to me now, but it would apply to a great number of people who would be considering this hypothetical. If I had a wife or a serious girlfriend, I would tell them immediately. My choice not to tell people revolves around living the life that I want to live. People might argue that I owe something to other people to let them know, as my existence bears an impact on the lives of others. No man is an island, and all that nonsense. However, if I were to die, my parents, my siblings, and my friends would not be forced to drastically change the direction of their life in response to my demise. A significant other would. Because it is imperative that I give my significant other the necessary opportunity to prepare for life without me, they will need to know right away. Obviously, I know exactly where I stand on this issue. But this wouldn't be a proper Friday Night Writes debate without exploring both sides so I'd like to take a look at the rationale behind sharing this information with other people. I sent this conundrum out to several friends and here is a look at five responses (each participant will remain anonymous with only an identifying letter, the letter is not their first initial...so quit trying to guess if you think you know them) that differed from my own:
"I would tell my close friends and family after the initial shock wore off. What if someone had something complimentary to say about my character before it was too late? I want to give them a chance." - J.
This viewpoint appears to be a mixture of wanting to provide friends and family with some measure of closure at the prospect of your passing while also looking to soak in the pleasantries that are one of the few fortunate side effects of terminal illness. These are fair points of view but they're not considerations that I haven't already taken into account. So while I can respect J.'s thoughts on the matter...this way of thinking has no sway on my own stance.
"I think I tell only a close few friends immediately. Just so I don't have to carry that burden entirely myself. That would be hard. But family would never know. Not worth my parents and family members worrying about." - U.
"I still would take this news very badly. I don't think I would be very strong. Tragically, I already feel life's futility weighing heavy... if I were to be given the actual time span I think I would be a wreck. I would tell my parents because I pretty much tell them everything. I would tell them probably immediately after I found out. I would act according to whatever my Mom suggests I do." - C.
The "Who" that is being informed in these two answers are totally different, but they're stemming
from the same basic need on the part of the afflicted. That is the need to not have to carry this burden by themselves. The confrontation with one's inevitable demise can lead people on dramatically different paths. Some people take the diagnosis and are able to squeeze every last drop of beauty out of their remaining days. However, the more likely occurrence is that depression is likely to visit regularly in one's final days and dark thoughts might constantly be on one's mind. In order to combat this it probably would be highly beneficial to have a confidante with whom you can discuss your thoughts and feelings. Knowledge such as you possess is surely a burden and by not keeping that knowledge a total secret, you'd be able to share the burden. I get it. This confidante sounds like a very useful relationship to have.
However, there's an issue of trust here. Do you have anybody in your life that you could trust with
this information that would never allow it leave the sacred you-them safety zone? I truly am happy for you if you do. However, I dare say that there are many people who do not. I think that I might be one of them. This doesn't mean that I don't recognize that I have several great friends. I think my friends are exceedingly loyal and I think that they care deeply about me. And that's where the problems start. I'm dead set on not having anybody know that I'm dying of cancer. I have my reasons. Almost anybody I know who could qualify as a confidante is likely going to try and understand my rationalizations. This would be a mistake. They're my rationalizations. I know what's best for me. I always have. However, I have never been able to convince other people that I know what's best for me. They have a dreadful habit of thinking that what I say I want and what I really want are two different things. They start realizing all of the alleged great things that could happen for me if I had more love and support in my life and before you know it other people know and it snowballs from there.
Benjamin Franklin said: "Three people can keep a secret, if two of them are dead." And it's
understandable why he said this. Knowledge is currency. In order to ensure that the person I'm confiding in could keep the secret just between the two of us, I'd have to know that they were the person that I could trust the most in the world and vice versa. I already said that I would tell my wife or fiance. That's the most important person in your life. That's the contract that we make. Therefore, if I were to tell my best friend, and he had a significant other...I'm not the most important person in his life. He is almost contractually obligated to share this information with her. He shouldn't risk damaging their relationship by keeping such a huge secret from her. And much like I need help coping with the fact that I'm dying, he would probably need help coping with the fact that his best friend is dying...from somebody who is not dying. Therefore, all roads lead to telling her...and from there I lose containment on the information. I appreciate your input U. and C. but I remain unconvinced.
"I tell my family right away. I tell my friends about a year before the termination start date. I tell my employer at the termination start date when I quit." - S.
Wait. What? Why would you work all the way up until your termination date? S. has more money than I'd know what to do with. Can I get a clarification here?
Clarification received. He's assuming that despite his current lack of a relationship, children, or desire for children, his impending fate will provoke in him a need to propagate his legacy. He'll likely try to father some children and wants to leave them financially secure. OK. That's not how I'm thinking about things...but I get it.
"I'm what you would call a sharer. I share a lot of myself with people - I've heard that may not be healthy because it blurs your boundaries of what truly makes you who you are vs. who you want to or should be with others, but besides the occasional bully who I make uncomfortable by being myself and takes it out on me via teasing, I have yet to run into any major issues with it. If I were to find out I was going to die within that six month period, I would tell everyone. Maybe not immediately, but I would bet within a year everyone who knows me would know I was going to die. My reasoning is simple - because armed with the knowledge of the almost-exact date of my death, I believe it would give me a chance to truly live. I would feel 100% free to be myself and share even MORE of myself with others (I mean my inner thoughts, not flashing people). Knowing the symptoms wouldn't show until shortly before my death, I would use all of the time between now and 7/1/19 to go places I've never been, try things I've never done and spend quality time with people I love, all before I wouldn't be able to. I suppose all of this could be done without me telling others that it will end in my death in late 2019, but there is a specific kind of genuity you see in people when death is at the door. And since it would be MY death knocking, I would want all of my interactions to be as genuine and loving as possible." - A.
What you see presented by A. is the exact opposite of the rationalization that I presented above. But it's the only answer so far that provides me with serious food for thought. A's perspective seems to be the total opposite of mine. I can see where the schism comes and it's something that I hadn't considered in this context previously. He’s acknowledging that people are going to treat you differently
when you have cancer. He’s just saying that the new way that they’re treating you is
real. The way that they’ve treated you for the majority of the rest of your
life is the lie. That bulk of time is the charade. Your relationship with them
is like the Matrix and your cancer diagnosis allows your relationship to enter
the real world. It allows it to realize itself. Well, now we’re just getting
into a question of whether or not perception is reality. But the food for
thought is there. There’s no question that I hold back my esteem for certain
people because I’m worried that if I’m overtly complimentary of them, they’ll
get weirded out and start to think of me as more of a fan than a friend. And I
understand the sentiment. I don’t take praise particularly well. It makes me
feel weird and unnatural. But that just doesn’t seem right. We should be free
to tell each other just how great we are. We need to be able to look into each
other’s eyes, get “real”, and tell each other how we feel. So if you agree with
my boy A. then live as your true self and tell me why you think I’m so great in
the comments. If you agree with me, please feel free to slander my good name in
the comments below to show that your standard state of disdain for me is more
than just the status quo…prove that it’s genuine.
No comments:
Post a Comment