Words that Wound...

I have carried around the wound for weeks.  Hidden deep.  Buried.  But festering...

Words that were meant to comfort, in some oddly dysfuntional way.  The truth?  They bruised, they hurt, finally they ruptured into anger.

It happened while we were on our recent vacation.  Surrounded by family on all sides, it was, after all, our Big Family Reunion, the first one since Mom had passed away.  We received hugs, and whispers of love, condolences and anguishes uttered at the unfairness of the cancer beast.  Tears and smiles, all were welcome...except one.

She was a distant relative, my age, with a mom of her own.  I stumble to find reason.

She expressed her sympathy first, and then asked about mom's treatment for the cancer.  Unwittingly I fell right into her agenda.  As I mentioned the radiation mom underwent, she nodded.  And then I spoke of the chemotherapy and the harsh side-effects.  She half-smiled as if to take the sting out of her words, and then baldly stated, "Well, you know, it was the chemo that killed her."

Stunned.  Speechless.

My expression must have been suitably horrified.  Which I guess was all the encouragement she needed, for she continued on in this vein for what seemed an eternity.  Blaming the government and the whole established medical community for duping poor innocent patients (like my mom, she said, patting my hand) into poisoning their bodies with the evil, toxic drugs under the guise of "treatment," when there were virtually any number of non-toxic, natural remedies that would have saved mom. 

Conspiracy Theory in Spades.

She rambled on about how the FDA and the pharmaceutical companies were in cohoots to make exorbitant amounts of money on these poisonous treatments, and therefore thwarted any attempt by naturalists to get their message out to cancer patients, even going so far as to imprison these angels of mercy...

Speechless.

I listened for too long, the words shooting like arrows into a soul already grieving searing loss.

In effect, her attempt at sympathy was no more than a rant she wanted to get off her chest.  The words were accusations that we chose to poison mom with the chemotherapy.

I would say that she was utterly callous and insensitive, and yet she was so determined that I understand her theories.  She seemed to truly want to shed light on our terribly lost and misguided ways. 

Still the words left wounds I can't explain.  A hurt so deep, I wanted to call mom and spill it all out.  Hear her voice soothe.  Feel her hands wipe away the tears.

Another valley in the Grief Journey.   Words that Wound.

And spilled over into anger.  When my tongue found traction, it lashed out in pain at her intended platitudes.  In uncharacteristic rudeness I demanded to know where she was while mom was undergoing "treatment."  If she was all-fired up about natural cures and remedies, why didn't she share those ideas with us then?  Spare mom the pain and suffering...   The tirade would have continued had not Leroy's two young nephew burst into the room racing to play their computer games. 

I'm so thankful the boys arrived to still my words.  It was not my intention to repay pain in kind.  I know somewhere in my head, that she didn't mean to hurt me, but the accusation and judgement lay heavy on my heart.  As the boys fussed over who's turn it was on the computer, the moment passed and she and I let the argument go.

Do I believe she's right?  Did the chemotherapy kill mom?  I have wrestled with this for months.  In The Perfect Storm I shared our agonizing thoughts over the path of mom's illness.  Yes, it's obvious that the chemo had debilitating effects on her.  But if not for the cancer she never would have undergone the chemo.  Such a twisted maze...  And were there natural remedies we could have tried?  Perhaps.  And that only increases the anguish.  The What If's...

But the Words that Wound the most are the judgemental opinions of another.  Unnecesary wounding...

There's a story about a dedicated, but harried T-Ball coach.  If you've ever been to a T-ball game you know the score, especially for the first few games of the year.  The tiny players have no clue.  When a batter hits the ball, he might run to third instead of first.  Or a lucky player may catch a ball, but then in the excitement of the catch, forget to throw it to first.

In this particular play, the coach watched with disbelief as a ball was hit and rolled past every player out to the fence. Several players began running after it, and in the process reached the ball at the same time and began fighting over it.  At his wit's end, the coach hollered from the side line, "Same team! Same team!"   The players spun and looked at him.  Then one gave up the struggle while the other threw the ball into second base.

That one-liner speaks volumes.  Not just for T-ball players, but for everyone playing in the game of life.

Same team!  Same team!

If one cancer patient decides on traditional medical treatment and another decides on alternative care, the bottom line is that we're all on the Same Team.

Striving to find wholeness and healing.

Judgemental opinions, devisive posturing, and critical ranting do nothing but hurt the cause.  We are, after all, on the Same Team...

Elizabeth Edwards struggled and lost her fight with breast cancer this past year.  In an early interview, she wisely noted that, "The strength to fight the cancer is inside each of us... each one chooses the course that is best for them."

Each cancer journey is unique, the nightmare part withstanding.  To those struggling with what's right, what course of treatment, or which direction to turn, remember that we are all pulling for your healing.  Find the course, the path that is right for you.  And never, never, let the critical opinions of others sway you. 

May you always find strength in the fact that you are part of a much larger team.  A team that is fighting hard for a cure.   We are all on the Same Team!   One day soon, it will be the Winning Team!

My Love Always, Jane