Everyone Goes Through Something Like This

This is out of order, but it's close to my heart, so I want to write about it now.

I remember very little from being in the hospital after my surgery.  For example, I remember waking up at about 1:00 a.m. after surgery and wanting to walk around the halls.  And then waking up at 5:00 a.m. and wanting to walk around the halls again.  I think this was very important to me because I only knew surgery in terms of my two previous c-sections, so walking around the hospital floor was THE accomplishment.  If I could walk, I could do anything.  Or so I thought.

The next several days were hazy.  To be perfectly honest, I don't even know how many days I was in the hospital.  I think it was four, but I'm not sure.  I remember watching "Five Flights Up" and "Cinderella," but I don't remember the plots of the movies.  I remember that my husband brought our boys to visit me, but it's one of those memories that I might only remember because there is a picture of it.  Oddly enough, I even put it together that the resident checking my drainage tube knew one of my friends from high school (they went to the same med school in Virginia).  But these are just pieces.  Fragments of a week.

Among these fragments, I remember that I had a visitor who told me, "Everyone goes through something like this."  That sentence has bothered me for months, especially as my diagnosis seems to have become more serious.  Especially on those days when I couldn't walk faster than a snail even though I was eight weeks post-surgery.  Especially as I laid in bed struggling with a headache that left me incapacitated for months.  Especially as I took chemo pills and wondered what new illness I would catch in the coming weeks.

There is a reason people use the phrase, "Well, it isn't brain surgery."  Because brain surgery is exceptionally difficult.  Because recovering from brain surgery is exceptionally difficult.  So there were times I wanted to scream, "No!  Everyone does NOT go through something like this.  And if you think everyone goes through something like this, then you really don't understand the pain I am experiencing right now."  But it's not just that.

When you have a brain tumor, you start to research and try to figure out what it means to have a brain tumor and what it means to be on chemotherapy.  And what you realize is how awesomely amazingly good you have it.  Sure, I had a brain tumor.  And sure, it was a few months of hell to recover from it being removed.  And yes, chemotherapy, even the "mild" kind my doctor swears I'm getting, feels mildly rotten round-the-clock.  But, my goodness, I don't have a glioblastoma!  I don't need radiation (at least not today)!  No one has given me a life expectancy.  I have a chronic illness, not a terminal one.  Hallelujah!

So I have a problem with anyone saying, "Everyone goes through something like this."  To say that to someone who is in the middle of their distress, whatever the cause, is to deny that person compassion.  We should be listening and empathizing.  As I've pondered the different things we can say to someone who is struggling, I've concluded that the only fail-safe thing to say is, "I'm sorry. Can I do anything to help?"  We need to acknowledge that challenges and trials cannot be compared.  Each challenge or trial deserves its own attention and acknowledgement independent of any other trial any other person has gone through.  When we show compassion we try to understand how another person feels instead of dismissing what they are experiencing because all people experience challenges.

In addition to compassion, we need to show humility.  In showing humility we can recognize that whatever trials we face, we have it pretty good.  I think when a person says, "Everyone goes through something like this," there is a good chance they are struggling with some challenge themselves (and maybe want to be recognized for it?).  But that's where the statement fails again.  If we want to harp on the mere difficulty of our circumstances, someone can always beat us.  Would you really say to a Syrian or African refugee, "Well, I know you just fled your country and your wife was raped and your children were killed, but you know, everyone goes through something like this"?  Would you say that to a person who had been kidnapped or raped or been the victim of domestic violence?  I couldn't because I know that despite the challenges I've faced and the challenges I will ever be likely to face in the future, the vast majority of the world's population has a much more difficult life than I ever will.

We all have challenges, I will give you that.  But no good comes from comparing challenges.  You can't put two lives next to each other and find some sort of equality in what two people face.  "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit."  For better or worse, life is unfair, and I've learned I'm not qualified to judge who has it better or worse.  I am grateful for everyone who has supported me when I've been at my low points and hope that I can support others when they have their own lows.