Something good has come out of Mom's illness. I have more patience, I appreciate my happiness and I have taken stock of my own health and well-being. I do feel that I am more caring towards others, but I am also more aware of my own sharp emotions. I feel more deeply. Which probably accounts for the still raw response at Christmas over family pressures.
And this week, I have been tested again. Someone I dislike has been diagnosed with myeloma. It is a cancer of the bone marrow. Given the person's age in his eighties, the treatment offered will be palliative, but he should enjoy a good quality of life for a few years yet. What has been interesting is the family's response to the diagnosis. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth and beating of chests in self-reflection. I don't know why. I'm pretty sure that it's nothing they've done to cause this. But cancer has this effect on families. In Mom's case, however, we knew that her lung cancer was caused by her smoking habit, and that her disease process would be swift, even with palliative treatment. No time for navel-gazing, we had to get on with the life Mom had left.
So my dilemma is this. Do I care? I should do. I should care for the family who are devastated and confused and anxious. I should care because I understand how bewildering it can be, faced with the diagnosis, the options, the tests. But I just can't bring myself to reach out to them. They hurt me many years ago, and they weren't kind to Mom. They were uncaring towards us when we were coping with cancer.
So I turn instead to helping strangers, strangers who reach out to me for support, and I wish him well.