Sick Loser

Some days it’s hard not to feel like a sick loser.

I like to think that I’ve been fairly plucky and optimistic throughout this cancer calamity, but then I got pneumonia and found myself back in a hospital bed, getting IV antibiotics.

And I felt like a sick loser.

Now, this is certainly no judgment on other sick people, though I’m sure they feel the same way at times. Nor is this a call for Facebook platitudes that say: “You are SUCH a winner!” Please refrain. I know that I am not actually a loser. But when you find yourself back in that hospital bed with the IV swoosh-swooshing and the hum of nurses giving chemo or blood transfusions to other unfortunate patients, you cannot help feeling, once again, ejected from normal life.

Like many other Type A overachiever personalities, I had big plans for myself before cancer. Plans to do Big Things and accomplish Important Stuff. But the problem is, I was only in the middle of doing Important Stuff when cancer struck. I hadn’t actually done anything notable yet. In my mind, anyway.

Sure, I’ve had two babies and so far they are turning out ok, so that’s certainly significant, but when your circle of acquaintances is chock full of highly educated, super overachievers too, then watching re-runs of Love It or List It for months on end is guaranteed to make you feel a little short of amazing.

What I mean is, I’m not a doctor fixing cleft palates, or a lawyer fighting for human rights, or a refugee camp worker giving rations to pregnant women. I’m not in the poor neighbourhoods of Ecuador interviewing girls on the street (which is what I would have been doing right now, if cancer hadn’t struck).

Now, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do something Great. With huge restrictions on my traveling, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to finish my research, or if I even want to. I don’t know what I want to do when my health becomes predictable enough to actually work again. It’s really hard to see past cancer when you’ve been sick for nearly a year. I don’t even remember what my normal self feels like.

And that is certainly part of the problem. I have never shied away from hard work. When my high school drama teacher asked me to do a scene for an assignment, I did an entire one-act play. When I had a choose a country for my master’s fieldwork, I picked Colombia. When I needed to decide on a long-term career, I picked a PhD. Hard work is what I do.

Until I became a sick loser.

Now by the end of the day I can barely muster up the energy to cook dinner or sweep my floors. Change the world? I don't even change the toilet paper rolls. Everything I can think of doing is just too hard.

Finish my PhD? Way too much work.

Become a yoga teacher? Too much time.

Publish a novel? Too daunting.

Start my own business? Too complicated.

Become a professional trail runner? Too much training.

Become a professional clown? Too much makeup.

Become an actor? Too many auditions, too much work, too much everything.

Now I am not a lazy person, but cancer seems to have sucked all the drive out of me. Anything with the potential to make an impact in this world takes a lot of effort, effort that I do not have. And yes, of course I am recovering and of course I need to give myself time. But I have no idea how much time I have left.

So am I destined to be a sick loser forever? I sure hope not. But for now, being anything else seems like too much work.