An apology (sort of) to Elaine and the rest of you

“You’re probably wondering why I called you all here today.” (Ha! I’ve always wanted to say that! It’s an expression my father used, and every now and again I find myself finding good use for a Bruce-ism.)

At any rate, there may be a need for an apology. Seriously (another Bruce-ism). I went and told you I have breast cancer. I handed you a bomb. Tag, you’re “it.” You get this life-changing, heartbreaking, devastating piece of information. Then what do you do? What’s the right thing to do? What’s the right thing to say?

It’s brain overload. It’s too much to think about. How cruel of me to do that to you. I’m sorry. Seriously.

My friend Elaine doesn’t realize what she did, but she pointed out the cruel thing I’d done when I told her about my situation. She took ten days to respond to the e-mail I’d sent with the news.

Elaine wrote: “I have been sitting on this email - its one of those ‘What do you say?’ things. ‘Sorry it’s you’ sounds so ineffective!”

So there was Elaine, sitting home in Connecticut with her husband, two adorable kids, a new puppy, her elder Gram, all of whom require (rightly) and deserve (rightly again) all of Elaine’s love and attention (and she gives it so freely and with such wonderful, joyful enthusiasm). And she’s got my bomb in her inbox.

It took her ten days to figure out what to say. Ten days for a woman who has no trouble with words to come up with ones that sounded right in her head and felt right leaving her fingers for the keys. I bet she read her reply e-mail a couple of times and even edited it before she hit “send.”

(She’s so good with words that I told her she should start her own blog. Nori and Joey would be instant blog darlings).

I was left with one reaction: how could I have done that to my friend Elaine? So I’m apologizing to Elaine, and to everyone else.

I told Elaine and the rest of you about my breast cancer because I wanted you to hear it from me. I want you to believe me when I tell you that it’s early in the game and I’m confident of a good outcome. I have great people on the treatment team and I’m ready to get started.

Every single person who has reacted to the news has done so with concern and respect. I’d never be able to take advantage of all the wonderful offers of support and the countless “…if there is anything I can do, just ask!” messages. Some have said “Call! I’ve been there!” Elaine offers the solitude of her deck and a pitcher of margaritas. Hey, who’s up for that! It’s probably a big deck!

So I told you because I need you to know. You really don’t have to do anything with the information, I just need you to have it. I know you’re sorry to hear the news. It’s OK to share Elaine’s, “Sorry it’s you” reaction. It’s OK to think, “I’m so glad it’s not me.” Even though that kind of thinking turns quickly to guilt, it’s really OK to feel that way. I won’t ask for a show of hands.

It’s my sally, and I’m thrilled to have the growing number of people traveling with me. Let’s agree to check in with each other every now and again and see how it’s going. Make sure you tell me about you. This shouldn’t be all about me. I can be selfish like that sometimes and I need to remember to listen and not do all the talking. I’ll count on you to remind me.

Today is MRI and Meet the Oncologist Day. I’ll fill you in later.