Depression
"It is essential to realize that no matter what type of adversity one
may have to face, the ultimate self is the inner self."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Depression
When a person is told he has a terminal illness, depression is a very
natural reaction. Not only does the individual have to face a disease
which shall bring about weakness and failure of one's bodily functions,
but also he is obliged to acknowledge that the culmination of his life
waits on his very doorstep.
For myself, it was not the fear of death which brought about various
intervals of depression, but rather the realization that my dreams for
the future and the reality thereof would not coincide. Occasionally,
as time passed, I would also become disheartened by the way in which
the cancer was transforming my body in a visual sense. I had always
taken pride in maintaining my figure for my health and appearance, and
now I was helpless against the shape I was quickly becoming as the
cancer grew. I was also aware of its effect internally, and exercise
gradually tapered off into nonexistence. I found my lungs unable to
fully inflate, and my heart beat would hover around 100 beats per
minute with only mild exercise; fear would soar when I would, without
warning, desperately need a bathroom.
I did not hate my life, yet when I was afflicted with nausea for hours
in a day or forced to miss an anticipated outing because of diarrhea
and the need of a bathroom in close vicinity, my spirits could plummet
and make me wish that death was close at hand. While those things I
most valued I still possessed, the magnitude of my physical condition
would surface when I would once again be harshly reminded that
"normalcy" was no longer credible, as if that state of being was a rug
which was being swept out from under my feet.
In addition to feeling inconvenienced by cancer, I also experienced a
sense of worthlessness, although of a different sense than that which
I felt upon my initial bout at age 13. When I was younger, I placed
a great deal of importance upon physical attributes; consequently the
post-treatment loss of all my hair, necessitating the purchase of a
wig, resulted in the questioning of my parents affection. I could not
understand how anyone could possibly care about a bald, rather
skeletal, daughter.
My later loss of self-worth centered more on my inability to perform
certain household chores, attend school or maintain employment. I was
incapable of strenuous tasks and the fluctuations in my health were
such that a steady job would be unthinkable. Since I no longer felt
that I acted the part of a "good citizen," guilt quickly crept into my
mind. I was living under the wing of my parents as I watched friends
initiate themselves into the mainstream of societal expectations;
theirs were blooming lives, while I seemed stranded in a murky,
stagnant pool, simply taking up space. I was eventually able to
resolve this self-inadequacy through interaction with my family and
friends who, I observed, did not think less of me as a person simply
because I did not conform to the standard ideal of accomplishment;
those with whom I had close association knew and accepted my
weaknesses, and sought my companionship despite any inconveniences they
might have had to endure because of my presence. Moreover, and
possibly of foremost importance, was the fact that I finally accepted
my limitations and no longer attempted to prove to myself that I could
still do something for which my body was unfit; I admitted that
self-restriction, or at least careful government of my activities,
would allow me greater flexibility and opportunity in the long run of
affairs.
It would be a lie to say that, having aged six years, I no longer fell
subject to self-devaluation through a loss of physical attributes. As
my waistline disappeared and my stomach began to protrude (for lack of
anywhere else to go), I grew increasingly more self-conscious of my
figure. Even at the outset, I considered my midsection enormous, and
purchased oversized shirts to conceal what I believed to be a horrible
deformity. As the liver continued to expand, for which I had been
mentally prepared, I began outgrowing clothes, especially pants (due to
the waistline) shortly after they were purchased. Soon I was giving
pants to my mother who wore a size 12; winter coats which did not
button were also handed to Mom who accepted the gifts as graciously as
the occasion permitted. The waist which had measured 24 inches grew to
32; the stomach protruded far beyond my bosom, a ghastly 37 inches in
diameter. People began to ask innocently, "when is it due?" I could
not deny it, it followed me everywhere. . . glaring at me through each
piece of clothing. It bid me "good morning" and packed me to bed at
night.
Perhaps one of my most distressing fears was the idea of encountering a
school mate who was not aware of my health situation, and either be
labeled as "pregnant" or "stout." Pregnancy out of wedlock was
completely unacceptable to me; while the lack of control which would
accompany mere weight gain was also a speck in my eye; I revolted
against both assumptions with similar distaste and simply hoped to
avoid familiar faces. If such a meeting did occur, I would generally
explain my current state of affairs, although I also disliked
blackening one's day with news which was generally categorized as
traumatic and distressing. When a person inquired into how I'd been
spending my time, I would have to subdue my urge to devalue myself due
to the impressive answers I failed to relate. As a whole, reunions
were rather a blemish in my day.
As I came to identify myself not with my "deformity" or my
accomplishments, but instead with my personal character, I felt more
at ease in group situations.
It is essential to realize that no matter what type of adversity one
may have to face, the ultimate self is the inner self. Deformities mar
the surface, but they need not devastate the interior; one's
personality needs to be projected beyond the body or the face, just as
it has to be expressed by the "normal" individual. A pretty face does
not assure the observer of an equally beautiful personality. There
will be those who will be uncomfortable in the presence of a stricken
individual, but those people should be given patience and
understanding; reactions are frequently simultaneous and the result of
shock or immeasurable pity, not incivility or rudeness. Those few
individuals who are cruel and insensitive are not worth the anger they
provoke, for they are the children of ignorance and have not lived
through pain and strife; for some, empathy is not inherent, it must
be learned.
I also found it to my benefit if I would candidly mention my health
instead of trying to conceal it like an illegal drug; I discovered that
although it was difficult to hear of my misfortune, it was easier than
if the burden had actually been their own.
The pervasive sadness which can strike when one grasps the reality of
illness does not endure forever, unless in self-pity, one allows
himself to be drawn into such an utterly oppressive mental state.
Sadness is a part of life which makes joyous moments all the more
valued; man is an animal, and in so being, it is characteristic of his
make-up that he feel pain and pleasure. To deny one's feelings, or so
dwell on one aspect, is to deny one's humanness and natural traits.
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