Even a cancer survivor with an upbeat attitude can experience bittersweet blues sometimes out of the blue. There are ways to learn from this feeling, whatever we call it, and keep on going.
PUBLISHED June 18, 2019
Felicia Mitchell is a poet and writer who makes her home in southwestern Virginia, where she teaches at Emory & Henry College. She was diagnosed with Stage 2b HER2-positive breast cancer in 2010. Website: www.feliciamitchell.net
There is a feeling cancer survivors sometimes get when, despite how well life is going, something bittersweet bubbles up from the psyche. Joy and despair take up residence in the same room. What should I call that feeling?
In "Breakfast at Tiffany's," Truman Capote's character Holly Golightly gives name to a feeling of dread she gets sometimes. She uses "the Mean Reds" to describe this feeling that comes upon her fast and weighty, something worse than the blues or common sadness. Paul Varjak, the character she explains this to, tells her this feeling sounds like angst. And what is angst? Some liken it to a free-floating sense of dread detached from any particular mundane worry (such as cancer). Philosophers give us another word to add to the Mean Reds and angst: ennui. Philosophically, ennui is like a spiritual listlessness.
None of these words is quite the word I am looking for to label my feeling. Whatever the word is, it makes me contemplative— perhaps too contemplative. Are survivors supposed to be happy at all times? Should I carry a metaphorical pink balloon everywhere I go? Recently, communicating with a friend, I talked about the deep fears a survivor can entertain, especially regarding recurrence and metastasis. Even when our logical brain is our best friend (along with modern medicine) our irrational brain can sometimes make us worry.
In "Breakfast at Tiffany's," Truman Capote's character Holly Golightly gives name to a feeling of dread she gets sometimes. She uses "the Mean Reds" to describe this feeling that comes upon her fast and weighty, something worse than the blues or common sadness. Paul Varjak, the character she explains this to, tells her this feeling sounds like angst. And what is angst? Some liken it to a free-floating sense of dread detached from any particular mundane worry (such as cancer). Philosophers give us another word to add to the Mean Reds and angst: ennui. Philosophically, ennui is like a spiritual listlessness.
None of these words is quite the word I am looking for to label my feeling. Whatever the word is, it makes me contemplative— perhaps too contemplative. Are survivors supposed to be happy at all times? Should I carry a metaphorical pink balloon everywhere I go? Recently, communicating with a friend, I talked about the deep fears a survivor can entertain, especially regarding recurrence and metastasis. Even when our logical brain is our best friend (along with modern medicine) our irrational brain can sometimes make us worry.
No comments:
Post a Comment