A - Z Of Breast Cancer: GRIEF, GUILT and JADE GOODY

The emotion I most experienced on being diagnosed with cancer was grief. It was like a death had occurred. I was grieving for the life I might never have, all those things I had yet to do.Things at work, things at home, holiday things. As time passed these concerns fell away but I found myself still grieving, for one reason only: my son. This made me want to hug him and cry and eat chocolate with him and watch Lassie movies late into the night. We didn’t. We just went on as if nothing was wrong, doing boring homework, practising boring scales, tea at teatime, bed at bedtime. Business as usual. Don’t hurt your children with your grief.

Sometimes weird things work

I am all in favour of a good cry but you have to stop sometime. Now this might sound a bit New Age, but you could try visualising your grief, on a shelf at the back of the wardrobe or in a drawer you don’t use much. I keep mine in a box with the bras I no longer wear. Obviously this is a bit simplistic and I think it only works if you have expressed not repressed your grief in the first place. If you do this you are not denying your grief but neither are you allowing it to consume you. And you have to do something otherwise your grief could become cheapened by over exposure and spill over into self pity, and you know, no one likes a whinger. You’ll know you’ve hit self pity when you start crying about all the bad things that happened in your past and how you have no luck and blah blah blah... Pitying oneself and grieving are two very different activities. Allow yourself to grieve. Then stop.

G IS ALSO FOR GUILT

Let me explain about my relationship with guilt: it is steadfast, robust and enduring. It will not go away. If I pass a Big Issue seller and don’t give them any money I will be racked with guilt for a week. I have even been known to drive back to the scene of my neglect and give money to a seller whom I’d previously ignored. Then if I take the magazine I feel guilty as they need it more than I do, because if I don’t take it they could in effect sell it twice. The ten year old tells me this is what I am meant to do. But if I don’t take the magazine I feel guilty that I will seem a smug, patronising, middle-class do-gooder, polishing my halo in public. So you see, I take my guilt very seriously.

Welcome to the guiltfest

Cancer opens up a whole new dimension of guilt. Layers upon layers of it. Guilt over how you got the disease in the first place, guilt over the strain you are placing on friends and family, about leaving work colleagues in the lurch, about not being so much fun with your child. It really is one great big guiltfest.

Shame on me

I will never forget the day I told my mother I had cancer. The guilt was impressive even by my standards. I was terrified and approached her like a naughty child who had done a bad thing. I thought she might be cross with me A, for having cancer and B, for getting found out. I felt so guilty, guilty in a naughty child way and guilty in a reckless adult way. Had I done this to myself? Had I allowed work to stress me out too much, had I drunk too much drink, eaten the wrong food, slept the wrong sleep? Getting cancer was so totally irresponsible, I had a young son to take care of. My mother would point out that he depended entirely on me and I would be consumed. How could I have let this happen?

Find a paper bag and breathe into it.

A lot of cancer guilt is irrational and pointless, but not all. If you are guilty of not checking your breasts, start now. If you are guilty of smoking, get help to give up. If you eat junk, try some fruit. If you’re a lush, cut back. Otherwise stop feeling guilty. It is a waste of time and energy. Most likely the cancer is not your fault. Save your energy for getting better. You’ll need it.

G for GOODY (Jade)

Poor Jade Goody is dead. Only twenty seven and with two small boys. It would break your heart. The BBC news tells me you either liked Jade Goody or you didn’t. I didn’t. Apparently this makes me a snob. So be it. I was repulsed at how she lived her life and her death in front of cameras. I despise all things Big Brother (except maybe Orwell’s novel) and I especially hated that at a time when I was trying to convince my son that cancer does not have to mean death, she was dying all over our TV screens and newspapers. Of course you daren’t say anything like this aloud unless you want a fatwah issued against you, because Jade Goody managed to turn herself into a sort of saint before she died. But I know I am not alone. One cancer patient, who for their own safety shall remain nameless, said to me, ‘Sure she’s only going through the same as the rest of us’. Except of course, that she is dead and we are still alive.

But you know what really galls me? All the other erstwhile snobs turned chief mourners. Like Gordon Bloody Brown. There he was, all fake sincerity, making statements about Jade Goody, like she was the one and only cancer victim in the world. What about the rest of us? Britain lags behind other major European countries for cancer survival rates;* put your money where your mouth is Gordon and find out why.

NB: Don’t neglect your cervical smear. Jade Goody RIP.

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