Well, Gordon, sometimes I just hate being a realistic stick in the mud, but it reminds me of one of my favorite Jack Handey quotes. "DEEP THOUGHTS by Jack Handey: The tiger can't change his spots. No, wait, he did! Good for him!"

Seriously though, being dealt the cancer card is a rough blow in itself. When people you assume would be supportive treat you crappy it's almost as much of a burden as dealing with the disease. Therefore, I can understand the "burning coals on your already wretched heart"

I remember telling one of my oncology nurses that I couldn't possibly hold up watching one of those Hollywood movies regarding cancer (like Love Story or Dying Young) She assured me that staying away from those types of movies would probably be a good thing. It is unfortunate we cannot hand our family members a script and demand they at least ACT compassionate.

For me, one of the major lessons I've learned through this ordeal is that cancer either brings out the best or the worst in people. As someone previously mentioned we tend to remind people of mortality. Although my new physical therapy place has done me a world of good, I sense at times that I put some of the staff ill at ease because of the big "C" The owner recently lost her spouse unexpectedly from terminal brain cancer. I most certainly feel her pain at raising seven kids without a spouse and know I probably remind her just how tricky life can be.

The most important thing for you to do is concentrate on you. I wasn't an incredibly vain woman before the big C, but really it took me awhile to go out in public. Then again, when I'm out in public, I take note that I'm not the only imperfect specimen out there. I see people in wheelchairs, walkers, and folks toting oxygen tanks. We are probably more self critical because our imperfections are on the face and neck.

This weekend a woman I know came over to me to tell me that she recently had to undergo having both breasts removed. After thinking about it for the past couple days, I know her road is just as difficult as mine has been.

As for my own holidays, I intend to have a calm peaceful private celebration with my spouse and children. Emotionally, I know I cannot take the baggage of big extended family get togethers. Also, as a matter of personal preference, I just refuse to be playing the "cancer patient" as it is all I can do to keep a positive attitude that I AM going to recover and sooner or later I will rejoin the ranks of the normal looking population.

Above all, don't let the dregs drag you down with them. I know it hurts like a son of a gun. I spent more hours than I can count using some very nasty vocabulary talking to myself about the extended family. And for the record? It's really not as uncommon as you would think for family to be non-supportive. In my PT's case, while her husband was dying from brain cancer, his own parents refused to even come say goodbye to him, nor did they even bother to attend his funeral (he was a doctor with seven kids and they didn't even come to help with the kids)

I like to think that despite my scars and boney skeletal frame, I can almost pass for "normal" Then again, quite often I think of all those non-perfect souls out there walking around POSING as compassionate people when they can't even be bothered to comfort someone in their own circle dealing with infirmity. Despite our physical appearance, I bet both of us are blessed with decent hearts. Even without having cancer, I've always been certain that what I have on the "inside" always far outweighed outside appearance.

Good luck to you, Gordon. And may all things,improve for you.

Jen