To Work or Not to Work
Once upon a time, work was something I did for the money. My real life—kids, friends, books, yoga—took place off the job. I treasured my free time after work and on vacation. So six years ago, when I was diagnosed with cancer and was given the option of paid sick leave, I grabbed it, right?
No, I didn't. Although my boss hired a temp to fill in for me, I went to work anyway. In the course of two lumpectomies, a bilateral mastectomy, four months of chemo, five weeks of daily radiation and a year of Herceptin—a total of about a year and a half of treatment—I missed just six days of work, all in the wake of my mastectomy. And I would have gone to work then too, but I was too embarrassed.
Before my diagnosis, I had savored the occasional sick day—curling up with my cats, watching crappy TV, drinking tea and dozing. After my diagnosis, I wanted nothing to do with anything that smacked of illness. I wanted to be healthy, hang out with other healthy people and do everything that healthy people did—and that included going to work. No matter how sick I felt, I did not want to be home alone with my thoughts.
The funny thing was that people praised me for having courage and a positive attitude. But truly I was driven by cowardice and morbid fear. My job draped me in the illusion of well-being and provided me with tasks to distract me from my physical misery and interactions with co-workers to lift my spirits. My job was therapy—therapy that paid me for showing up!
There were downsides to the way I handled my illness. Another woman at my company was undergoing chemotherapy at the same time. Her treatment was even more grueling than mine, and she took off six months from work and went to stay with her family in another city. Inevitably, people drew comparisons. I made her look bad. I feel guilty about that. But just as she couldn't bring herself to go to work, I couldn't bring myself to stay home.
Recently, another friend was diagnosed with cancer. She told me how lucky she felt that she was retired and didn't have the pressure of having to work while she goes through treatment. I congratulated her on her good fortune, but in my heart I felt pity—and admiration.
Posted January 30, 2012.
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