When I was a child there was a store in my Manhattan neighborhood called Nancy's Fancy. Way before all the hip antiques and notions stores that now seem to be everywhere, it was the only one around. It carried all sorts of fun things -- jars of aged buttons embossed with flowers, moons, and stars; tarnished gold and silver upholstery tassels; delicate vintage passementerie fashioned from shiny jet and cut silver beads. Not only did it carry old notions, but also silly things like paper cigars that transformed into American Flags, wacky plastic whistles shaped like trains and cars, books of Mad Libs, bouncing balls that glowed in the dark, and my favorite, a menagerie of handblown glass animals. Oh, how I loved that store. I'd save my nickels, dimes, and quarters and rush off after school to pick up some special trinket then skip home, my pockets bulging with treasures wrapped in Nancy's Fancy tissue paper.
Thing is, most of the time I didn't keep them, I gave them away -- to my family, school friends, teachers. Obviously, I had a huge need to give. Now ask a shrink and they'd probably tell you I was seeking love and approval, and I suspect I was, but it made me happy so who cares? Don't get me wrong, I did love presents. What kid doesn't stay awake all night on Christmas Eve imagining the wonderful things that are going to be left under the tree for them the next morning? Who doesn't like the idea of receiving a pirate's bounty on their birthday? And even now, so many years since the closure of Nancy's Fancy, my enjoyment of gift giving hasn't diminished.
But what does all this have to do with having breast cancer? Well, something happens when you're diagnosed with a serious illness: it brings out extreme generosity in people. When someone finds out you're not well, they more often than not feel compelled to give you something -- an offer of their time, financial help, or a special something to make you feel good when you're feeling rotten. Big or small, all are outpourings of love.
Truthfully, there have been times when I've really needed help, but struggled with my conscience to accept it. I had to dig down deep and try to figure out why it was so hard for me, especially when I'm a serial gift giver myself. The obvious answer would have been that I didn't want to seem "needy." But it wasn't that simple. Why did generosity cause such a panic inside of me? I followed the threads back to when this started and realized that my inability to accept people's help directly related to my disease. Would this illness and the needs that it created take away from the well-being of the people whom I loved and cared for? I couldn't and wouldn't allow that.
But as time went on I observed that the outpouring of love, time, and help, rather than harming those around me, seemed to have great significance to the people who offered it. I was forced to shift my perspective on what effect my cancer had on my external world. And believe me, it wasn't an easy shift, but it was necessary. Because when people give they are also getting something in return. I have finally allowed myself to relax and let the generosity of others be part of my path to wellness. I've also learned to ask for help when I need it, one of the biggest lessons of my life.
Today is Thanksgiving. For most it is a time to reassess and be thankful for the blessings in one's life. Now I know I am replete with them. I am thankful for the generosity, love, and friendship that so many have shown me. Family, friends, doctors, nurses, healthcare professionals and, yes, even strangers. I am thankful that I was given a chance to see the meaning of my life in relationship to other's lives.
Believe me, this is not an easy road, but who ever said the road is supposed to be easy? It's just a road ... bumpy, scary, beautiful, challenging. This cancer, instead of being devastating, has become a rare gift in itself. It has given me introspection and insight, and I'm sure will continue to yield many more lessons in the months and years to come. Of course, no one wants to have cancer, but without it I don't think I would have understood how loved and cared for I am. I truly have an embarrassment of riches. Now, does anybody know where I can get those American Flag cigars so I can give some of this love back?
