Well, I hope that you are never put in that position, but it's the position that I am in now. Again...and again...and again.
For the most part, it gets easier with each successive delivery. Until you don't have to tell colleagues at work anymore, and you have to tell your friends and family. People you've known for years...since college...or since you were a little kid.
Me, immediately after telling someone I have cancer.
[Note: Super stoked that animated .gifs work on Blogger]
I decided very early on that the same coping mechanism that I had used in my own head (Excellent prognosis! Not as bad as other cancers! Huzzah!) were the ones I would use when telling people about my diagnosis. This made my delivery very business-like at work, as I told more and more of my colleagues. "I received a diagnosis of thyroid cancerbutthesurvivalrateis97-99%!" I would speak in a run-on sentence that put the focus on the prognosis rather than the actual disease, as if I was telling people that I caught the stomach flu. This was probably the best way to approach this talk with co-workers, so that I can put up the wall of professionalism in front of me to avoid from accidentally releasing a tear, or allowing my voice to crack.
But when I finished up tour at work and the weekend came, it became time to tell my closest friends, people who I consider to be family. All of a sudden, that same tactic didn't work. I had already rehearsed the speech, but when I gave it the words seemed emptier...almost pathetic or desparate. These were people who had been in my life through its highs and lows, who knew me inside and out, and who genuinely cared about me. And I was throwing this wrecking ball at them from out of left field and trying to pass it off as common conversation, as if I was talking about something as routine as my opinions on the latest Avengers movie.
It suddenly became almost as hard as the first time had to talk about it, but I got through it. I did my best to look strong and act like it was all in the bag, that it was going to be a summer of inconveniences and then life would continue on as normal. I'd like to think that, but it doesn't really make the anxiety go away completely. This time around, it kinda hurt to tell people what was happening, even though it's not like I was saying anything bad to them.
I'm just rambling now. Maybe because that's what I tend to do when immediately after I deliver the bad news to people.
-W
But when I finished up tour at work and the weekend came, it became time to tell my closest friends, people who I consider to be family. All of a sudden, that same tactic didn't work. I had already rehearsed the speech, but when I gave it the words seemed emptier...almost pathetic or desparate. These were people who had been in my life through its highs and lows, who knew me inside and out, and who genuinely cared about me. And I was throwing this wrecking ball at them from out of left field and trying to pass it off as common conversation, as if I was talking about something as routine as my opinions on the latest Avengers movie.
It suddenly became almost as hard as the first time had to talk about it, but I got through it. I did my best to look strong and act like it was all in the bag, that it was going to be a summer of inconveniences and then life would continue on as normal. I'd like to think that, but it doesn't really make the anxiety go away completely. This time around, it kinda hurt to tell people what was happening, even though it's not like I was saying anything bad to them.
I'm just rambling now. Maybe because that's what I tend to do when immediately after I deliver the bad news to people.
-W
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