Carragee Consulting

“THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren’t only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General” Harrison Bergeron, A short story by Curt Vonnegut

In Mar I was diagnosed with a type of breast cancer that requires chemo therapy and eventually surgery. The process of diagnosing and starting to treat the cancer has been incredibly disruptive to nearly every part of my life.

My oncologist told me I wouldn’t be “disabled” by the treatment, that many, if not most women work through the chemo cycles.

The weird thing about breast cancer is that up until it metastasizes to other parts of your body it is usually fairly asymptomatic and doesn’t interfere with your daily life.

The barrage of scheduling calls, the dozens of decisions and chemo drugs and the support drugs which quell nausea but exacerbate fatigue — which is to say the entire process of being treated for the cancer — interfere tremendously with daily life.

I feel like the characters in Vonnegut’s story Harrison Bergeron where every one of my relative strength’s has been systematically brought back to lowest common denominator, where Stanford medical has taken on the roll of the handicapper general.

I was at a kids birthday party talking to another mom, telling her something when we were interrupted. 30 seconds later when she came back I had no idea what I had been talking about, as though the last five minutes had disappeared from my memory. I’ve gone from a memory like an elephant to a goldfish where the little plastic castle is a surprise every time.

I make a point of biking the 2.4 flat miles from my house to the infusions, holding on to a minimum fitness base as long as I can. Then Stanford changed the appointment to Redwood city and I had to call for help to get from my oncologist to the infusion center.

I had long thick brown hair that my daughter liked and magically at 40 had not a trace of grey. A few weeks ago, after my second round of chemo my scalp hurt all over and it started to come out in clumps. My daughter and her dad helped me shave it off and I got advice from two male friends on how to manage my bald head this summer. Tues at the at the YMCA an older woman was visibly shocked by my appearance as she thought I was a man in the locker room.

I am incredibly fortunate to have friends and family and neighbors who have stepped up to advocate and care for me and colleagues who are flexible and understanding of my current limitations. I am fortunate to have health insurance and to live near top notch medical care. I am fortunate that most of what I have lost is only temporary and I expect a complete recovery inside of a year.

Things will get worse before they get better which is scary and frustrating.

I keep encountering basic situations, like renewing my car registration from out of state, which exceed my current problem solving capabilities, where I have to admit my limitations and ask for help.

I hope that what I learn from the holistic experience of being treated for breast cancer translates into more gracefully accepting help and my own limitations and priorities for the rest of my life. I hope to that it makes me more generous in extending help and the benefit of doubt to other’s in my life whose struggles are hidden from me.

I haven’t decided yet if I’ll update my LI profile with a new Sinéad O’Connor photo, but I did borrow my daughter’s Elsa wig for a zoom call the other day. I’ll find the fun in this yet!