One of the things I've struggled with since getting my diagnosis is the etiquette of breast cancer. If I'd been diagnosed with a more serious form of it, some things would be easier to figure out - the more life-changing it is, the more people it would be appropriate to tell. But this diagnosis is, as breast cancer goes, relatively minor.
As mentioned in my first post, the first person I told is an employee who has been battling a far more serious diagnosis for several months. I knew she would understand and have some insight, and seeing how gracefully she has dealt with her situation has really given me some perspective.
Then on Day 1 came my partner, and then a close friend of mine with whom I do a lot of work, because at the time I wasn't sure if my treatment would sideline me from some projects she and I had going together. Then I told my other employees. They've all been very supportive.
The hardest disclosure came later that day, when I got home from work. I had to call my mother. She knew I had been awaiting the results of the biopsy, so my call to her wasn't unexpected. Still, I had to couch this in terms that wouldn't freak her out. Her most recent family experience with cancer had been the death of my first cousin from colon cancer a few years ago, and the last thing I wanted was for her to be afraid I would have a bad outcome.
So I told her that what they found "was going to need further treatment" - a very sensible suggestion from my very sensible partner. I spent some time explaining the exact diagnosis before I ever used the word "cancer." I made sure she understood (at least I think she did) that I was dealing with a non-invasive, non-emergency "Stage 0" condition and that the radiologist who broke the news to me never even used the word "prognosis" because my prognosis is not in question.
She seemed okay while we were on the phone, although her tone of voice led me to believe she may have thought I was sugar-coating a bit. "I'm going to pray for you anyway, if that's okay with you," she said somewhat bitterly, and I didn't know if that was a shot at me because she suspects (or knows) I'm not incredibly religious or just her way of saying, "I hear you, but I'm not sure I believe you." Now that she knows my surgery won't be until the last part of October, I think she believes me.
Next came the e-mail to my sisters. E-mail? That seems a little impersonal as a way to break the news to one's siblings, doesn't it? Maybe. But my main purpose in telling them was to badger them to get mammograms. Also, my sisters and I don't talk that often, so I felt that a phone call would make my condition seem more serious than it is. My youngest sister called that evening, and her first question was, "Are you really not worried about it?" I haven't heard from my other sister yet, but I may have used the wrong e-mail address for her.
I then contacted some of my long-distance buddies, mostly through e-mail/Facebook, and adopted the phrase "smidgen of breast cancer" to try to convey the lack of severity of the situation. Everyone has offered their unconditional support.
From here on out, disclosure will probably be on a need-to-know basis; if my treatment will interfere with something I have to do, I may disclose it. But I think breast cancer has a bit of a stigma attached. I worry that as someone in my 40's with that diagnosis, I will be regarded as less vigorous and physically capable than I am. That's precisely why I'm blogging almost anonymously here instead of on my own web site. I don't need word of this spreading like wildfire among my local professional contacts, some of whom I may need to rely upon later for a job.
My diagnosis is an unfortunate fact, but there's no good reason for everyone in the world to know about it.
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