But that's not why I want to bawl, nor what I came here to write about. My mind is elsewhere.
When I got into work this morning, I turned on my computer and went straight to e-mail. I had an e-mail from a colleague informing the department that he has cancer. Esophageal cancer. OMG. I don't know anything about esophageal cancer, but I'm pretty sure it can't be good. I sat for a minute and processed the information, then started to cry a little.
But you know what the weird thing is? This isn't a colleague I'm friends with. I hesitate to use the word enemy, but if I had one, he would be it. In fact, at the end of the the spring semester, in April, he and I and another colleague got into a huge fight during a committee meeting that landed us all in mediation and ended with the entire department in kumbaya-type meetings with outside mediators. For a few weeks, I cried a lot, and I was so angry I started looking for another job and plotting ways I could screw the department over. LOL. We have hardly spoken since then, except insofar as we have to to do our jobs, which has been about two sentences at a department meeting. Literally. At some point during the hoopla, my Chair came to me and told me that for what it was worth, TJ felt really bad, and since he wasn't sure if TJ would ever apologize to me, he wanted me to know that TJ was genuinely sorry. At the time, I said I didn't want an apology because it wouldn't mean anything after all that TJ has put me and some of my colleagues through, and I didn't ever want to talk to him again - which is awkward, because our offices are right next to each other, but whatever.
Over the summer, I let go of a lot of the anger simply because I had to. Seriously y'all, I am so dang tired, and anger just takes so much energy. Also, considering all that my department has done for me through the turmoil of the past four years, I can't complain. I know of plenty of people who have lost their jobs over just one health crisis, and I've kept my job with full pay and a lot of time off and/or reduced workloads through three different health issues. I am truly grateful for that.
The interesting thing about TJ is that while he is truly a jerk to me and many of my colleagues about 90% of the time, he has always had a soft spot when it comes to health issues. And it is very genuine. Like, he's either oblivious or indifferent to the fact that he causes people to suffer emotionally, but as soon as you present with something physical, he is genuinely concerned about your well-being. The discordance is quite remarkable, practically mind-boggling. Both I and my colleague, who had to have a hip replacement a few years ago, have noticed this for quite some time now. When I was recovering from my breast reconstruction, another colleague texted me something along the lines of I know you and TJ don't get along, but he is genuinely concerned about you. He is constantly asking me for updates on how you're doing. What can I say, people are weird, complex, and incomprehensible beings.
To add an interesting twist to this situation, I mentioned previously that I worked out a last-minute offload so that I'm only teaching 3/4 time this semester. TJ's wife, who also works in the department part-time, is the person who took over my fourth class for me, so we've been working together pretty closely. It's slightly awkward, but she's actually a sweetheart (I can't for the life of me figure out their relationship), and we are both professionals, so it has been fine.
I knew something was up because on Friday of last week, TJ's wife asked me to cover her exam for her on Monday. She said needed to take TJ to the doctor, and it was an appointment where he needed someone to be with him. She apologized that it was last-minute, but said it was something that had just come up, so I figured it was something semi-serious. Seeing as how she was asking me to cover a class that was supposed to be mine, of course I immediately said yes. I have to admit that I was slightly curious, but I didn't pry, because I'm not a prying type of person, and even if I were, we don't have that type of relationship.
On Tuesday, TJ and I passed each other in the hall. Usually we both look down at the floor and avert our eyes so we don't have to acknowledge each other. But to my surprise, he stopped and smiled at me, and commented on how much better I was getting around. Then, somewhat awkwardly, he said, 'I've heard such fantastic things about you from [my wife]. She is so impressed with how organized you are and how you run the class. She says you are so great to work with.' And the thing is, he was very genuine; there's no reason he had to say anything, seeing as how we've been looking away from each other when we pass in the hallway for, like, eight years now. LOL. The other weird thing is that during this interaction he actually seemed... happy? I'm not sure if that's quite it, but it was definitely something different from his usual grumpy demeanor. And I say that without judgement, as I, too, have a grumpy demeanor, so that's actually one thing we have in common.
I think I stared at him for a couple of seconds with my mouth open. I was actually pretty embarrassed by this shocking olive-branch offering, but I did my best to remain cool, and thanked him, told him how grateful I was to his wife for stepping in at the last minute, then continued crutching down the hall. After further reflection, I figured he must have gotten good news at his doctor appointment. But, in fact, it was the opposite.
And now this.
I've been crying on and off as I'm writing this, and I don't understand why. It is hitting me even harder than when my good friend told me she has breast cancer. I guess when it's a friend and someone you love, you know how to feel and what to do; you just feel sad and sorry, and you offer to bring meals, drink wine together, whatever the friend needs. It is tough emotionally, but at least there's an accepted reaction in place.
But this. This is different. Since my own cancer diagnosis, I started following cancer blogs. Several of those bloggers have passed away, and I've been surprised by how emotional I've felt about it. In fact, my post about Ashleigh Range is the most viewed post of all the posts I've written here. With cancer and hip dysplasia, some of the deepest and most meaningful connections you make to people are on the Internet, because the people in your everyday life just don't understand what you're going through. It's hard to know how to mourn appropriately when an 'Internet only' friend passes away, because there aren't protocols in place for that. I feel like this is similar territory. How do you react appropriately for someone you don't get along with - someone who has, quite honestly, harassed you and treated you awfully, but yet someone you care about and want to support, because after all is said and done, you're both human, and esophageal cancer isn't something you'd wish on anyone? There aren't protocols for that.
I keep thinking back to our exchange on Tuesday and wondering what must be going through TJ's mind right now. While my own prognosis has been as good as it can possibly be when it comes to cancer, I know that a cancer diagnosis, no matter how 'good,' changes you. I know some people can say definitively how cancer changed them - for better or for worse - but I'm one of those who feels more ambiguous. I don't understand the ways in which cancer has changed me, I just know that it has. And I know for sure that in the early stages of the diagnosis, where TJ is right now, when you don't know the details of the cancer - what grade, what stage - all sorts of things go through your head as you contemplate your own mortality. You reflect on all the things for which you're grateful, the things that make you bitter, the people you love, the people you despise, the things you regret doing, the things you regret not doing, the things you hope to do, the things you wish you hadn't done, the person you are, the person you wished you had been, the life you have, the life you didn't have. It is nonstop. And it is so, so hard. That much, I know.
And I now know my interaction with TJ on Tuesday was some response to this crisis you go through when you're diagnosed. I understand that's his apology to me that he never gave me earlier in the year. And I want to say, I forgive you, but how can you do that when someone doesn't actually tell you they're sorry?
Just a few days ago, I watched a video that has gone semi-viral on social media about a woman who was an Auschwitz survivor. The video documented her process of forgiving the Nazis who killed her family and performed experiments on her and her twin sister. My response to the friend who posted the video was an immediate and definitive, That woman is a better person than I am. And it's true. I cannot imagine. I truly cannot. At the same time, the message was that forgiveness is power. That woman found power in her ability to forgive even the most unspeakable acts that have been done in the history of humanity. I have no idea how, but she did. She felt that was more powerful than clinging to her much-deserved anger and bitterness. It was her choice, and she chose forgiveness.
My situation isn't even in the same universe as that woman's story, so please don't interpret this as me comparing having a jerk of a colleague to that of an Auschwitz survivor. I hope that those of us who can specifically relate to such horrific acts will be few and far between. Instead, I want to focus on the message of forgiveness. That message resonates with me, and helps guide my feelings, and how to respond appropriately.
There are unspoken words here, but I know they're something like this:
I'm sorry.
It's okay; I forgive you, and I'm so sorry you're going through this. I truly want to be here for you and your wife.
Cancer. It sucks. Suckity, suckity, sucks. And as a 'survivor' - at least for now - I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I weren't there for someone who's going through this awful experience, no matter our past relationship.
Maybe it's just selfish, but sometimes it's just easier to forgive.
No comments:
Post a Comment