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I'll Never Do a Norman Cousins

By Lynne Goldklang, MA, MFT

Lynn is a breast cancer survivor, a licensed therapist, public speaker, contributor to the book Chocolate for a Woman's Soul* and co-author of Count It as a Vegetable and Move On.*

[* NOTE: By clicking on the title and buying this book from Amazon.com, you help support LPO.]

There is nothing funny about cancer. I'm not going to be a woman of valor, chuckling my way to health. I'll never laugh again. I'll be angry, bitter and depressed forever." These were some of the cheery thoughts that flew through my mind as I sat alone in the sunshine in front of the large medical center, my car keys in one hand; my lab reports and a pre-op slip in the other.

Three doctors had prepared me for the fifty percent probability that my mammogram indicated malignancy. I just assumed that meant I'd be in the cancer free half and refused to let my husband accompany me to the doctor appointment where I would receive my "good news" regarding the results of the biopsy. It was my fourth biopsy in half a dozen years and I felt invincible. Wrong!

As I started the car for the short drive home, I glanced at the troubled face in my rear view mirror, wondering if I would ever smile again. I was in such an altered state that I had no awareness of leaving the parking lot, paying the parking lot attendant or turning onto the residential street that led to my home. It was only when I heard the sounds of scraping metal, that I came into focus and realized I had sideswiped a parked truck. My first reaction was one of relief. No one was hurt including me. The truck was empty although the owner quickly materialized with dollar signs in his eyes. His beat-up truck was fine but my one month old car had a deep gorge from one end to the other.

After I exchanged insurance information with the truck driver, I went back into my wounded car and sat there, once again stunned. Then it hit me: only an hour ago, I was convinced that things were as bad as they could get. I was wrong. They can always get worse!

This revelation struck me funny and I started to laugh. True, it was not the laughter of joy but it was the joy of discovering that perspective is always possible. As I laughed, I felt a lightness and a connection to the moment. I also realized that cancer does not grant immunity from other calamities.

Three years have passed since that day. My mastectomy scar is now a warrior wound. The lessons that cancer offers continue to be a positive force in my life. This column will be dedicated to exploring the ways in which cancer can be a "gift" as we move on and deal with the everyday issues of daily living.

© Copyright 1996, Lynne Goldklang, MA, MFT