I’ll start with FUCK. THAT. NOISE. ^ because it’s easier than the intimate stuff. This…thing is on the wall of the exit hall leading out of all the oncology exam rooms. I hate to say, but this is far from the worst. The whole place is soaked in crap like this, and worse, deep catholic sentiments (quotes from motherfucking “saint” Theresa* and the like), and the rest is all “brave! hope! courage! faith! positivepositivepositive!. It’s enough to make a person puke and not stop. So, “Be Brave” with a cutesy arrow. Obviously, no one thought that one over very much. Implicit bigotry is always there, and obviously the, er, person who did this didn’t think at all. I could never in my life call the person who did this utter piece of shite an artist. Ugly, tacky, racist. It should be burnt, along with all the rest of such crap.
What does such an admonition do for someone who is almost catatonic with fear? How in the fuckety fuck does such a thing help that person? It doesn’t. It’s yet another scalding burden to place on the shoulders of that person, that something is terribly wrong with them; that they should not feel fear, no. They should square those shoulders, jut that stiff upper lip, be brave. Fear and anxiety are perfectly fucking normal when you get to hear It’s CANCER. Each person is different, and even those who manage to take the news with equanimity do not need to see such shit. We do not need to be told we should be “brave! hope! courage! faith! positivepositivepositive!. We should not have to confront such crap at every turn. Sure, there are people who might love seeing fucking Theresa quotes, but you know what? You can get such shit at home and your place of worship, if that’s your thing. And once again, those of us who are godless are not even considered when all this littering of religious crap is being done. People of other religious beliefs are not considered either, no, it’s all christian crap. The people responsible for picking this absolute shit out need to be taken out behind the woodshed and given one hell of a good smack.
ETA: To all the offended Christians: this notion that christian sentiment is somehow universal shows a breathtaking arrogance and an appalling lack of thought when it comes to other people. My cancer is not about your god, and no, I don’t give one tiny shit what you think about it. Anything me is not about your god. Please, keep that nasty god to yourself. You can drape yourself in instruments of execution, rosaries, prayer books, all that, but try to get it through your heads that it’s personal, and it does not apply to all people.
There is so little thought when it comes to cancer decor, and yeah, that’s a fucking thing. There’s zero honesty in any of it, it’s just “open your mouth and swallow the bullshit, honey, and if you aren’t brave and hopeful and full of faith, well that’s on you. YOUR FAULT.” There is no recognition of all the actual emotions threatening to boil over. No anguished “why”. No fear. No anxiety. No head full of thoughts and questions about how you will manage anything. No anger. No FUCK. No spectre of death. The other side of cancer decor is all obsequious gratitude, generally in the form of survivor art. There’s one of those pieces hanging in the oncology waiting room. No, there’s nothing wrong with being thankful and happy you made it out the other side with your life, but this kind of crafty art is terribly grating, because it evokes people on their knees (in this case women, a group of breast cancer survivors) giving worship. Fuck that noise too. Medical are doing their jobs, it’s what they do, and I’m pretty sure they’re thankful for every patient who survives, but you don’t find them doing worshipful art pieces. There’s a terrible imbalance in Cancerland. People end up feeling like it was the bad old days, where doctors were gods, and you didn’t dare make a sound, but meekly went toward any treatment you were pointed at, and no matter what happened, you should be on your knees in gratitude. Cancer has a way of smacking you the fuck down, and until the anger shows up, you don’t feel terribly strong. Or fucking brave. For some people, the fear will dominate, which tends to keep them quiet, even when they shouldn’t be. You can recognise them, like sheep being led to slaughter, meekly plodding along. All the “brave! hope! courage! faith! positivepositivepositive! crap doesn’t do anything for them.
So here’s a thought. Take all the “brave! hope! courage! faith! positivepositivepositive! crap, pile it up, and burn it. Instead, get warm, colourful posters and photographs. Flowers, water, dance, play, beautiful things which provide slender threads to good memories, to future hopes, threads which keep a person linked to thoughts of life. Things which represent to ALL people. No false cheer. No fucking admonitions. No hint of anything being your patients’ fault. Warmth, colour, life. Let people make their own associations, the ones which are most important to them. Cancer decor, as it now stands, needs to die, stat. It’s probably helping to kill a certain percentage of patients. Trite bullshit doesn’t help anyone. Stupid clichés that you’ve heard a million times don’t help. If you’re setting up an office somewhere, be original and actually think about your patients, think about how much this twee garbage does not help. Think about what might make you feel better if you were in the cancer seat. From now on, I might have to make sure I don’t have a lighter on me when I have to go to oncology. The temptation to set all that shit on fire is near overwhelming.
Okay, on to breakdown days. They will happen. Might not happen often, might not happen more than once, but one of them has your name on it, and will hit with the force of a sledgehammer. Mine was a couple of weeks ago, when treatment had been pushed back for the third time. I found myself crying. In public. For me, that’s unthinkable and it was mortifying. I couldn’t stop, and I wanted to start screaming all of my fury, too. The whole mess didn’t last long, even though it felt that way. I was back to my normal cynical humour, but that breakdown left a deep and lasting mark. It’s one which won’t go away. It took too long for the penny to drop, but I finally realised that if anything pushes me off the mental cliff, it will be Go sit in the corner and waitwaitwaitwait. I don’t have any way of coping with that one. I just want this DONE. It’s the one thing you think about, being done. Over. Out. I found myself in the position of getting in the door, but I couldn’t even see down the fucking hall, let alone the exit door. I’m not one who sees any virtue whatsoever in patience. I can be remarkably patient when there’s a clear end goal in sight, and there’s a specific time limit. But vague, hand-waved waiting? No. What will get me through is having treatments on time, on schedule. And yes, I am all too aware that people are looking out for me, making sure I don’t get even sicker and have yet more to deal with. Yes, I am all too aware that chronic liver inflammation is a precursor to cancer. I also know that chemo increases the chance of another cancer down the road. I know all that shit. Doesn’t help. There’s already a small well of despair in my head, trying to prepare me for another four fucking weeks of waiting instead of the next cycle. One thing is sure, if that happens, I’ll be sure to be ensconced in the car if another breakdown day comes my way, so as to at least preserve a bit of dignity. A sense of dignity can be hard to come by in Cancerland. Whew, I did not want to share any of that, but honesty seriously counts in Cancerland, and it has to take priority. That’s all I have for this chronicle.
*All the people Theresa “ministered” to were put on filthy cots on dirt floors, and denied pain medication, although it was available. Terminal people in immense pain were told “suffering brings you closer to god.” Yet, when Theresa was ill, she was put on a jet, flown to the U.S., put in a private room with all the amenities, which would be way out of reach for most people, and you can bet she was given more than adequate pain meds. She deserves zero respect, she was an immoral hypocrite.
That thing up there says ???
jeebus
I think you should be allowed to scream in rage on breakdown days.
Chigau:
Yeah, the font choices are incredibly crappy too.
Me too.
I also couldn’t read the font and had to scan down your post for a translation. “Be… indecipherable wavy script?” Ok.
Putting all that happy horseshit into a pile and lighting it ablaze would probably be so cathartic. I’d take the Kinkade knockoff paintings at the breast scan clinic over impersonal, chipper admonishments to feel a certain way, and those paintings were godawful.
Some folks need hope to get through hard times.
Some, like me -- and I suspect you, Caine -- find hope and faith bullshit. What we need is DEFIANCE.
We don’t need “Trust in God and keep your spirits up!”; we need “Fuck you, you suppurating asshole. You can’t take me that easily. You might win this, but by christ it’s going to COST YOU.”
This is how the ward for long term care was decorated, the one in which my uncle was hospitalized before they found him a place at a home for the elderly. Wherever I go here the doctor offices and waiting rooms are either not decorated at all, or when decorated it is with pretty nature pictures, medical pictures listing various preventative measures against common ailments (like how to brush teeth at the dentist and how to breathe properly at the pulmologist). And illustrated scientific info about this and that.
I have not seen a cancer ward yet, though. But I have no reason to believe it will be too much different. One of the perks of living in a mostly non-religious country is that religilousy blather is not splattered everywhere, because people do not like it.
________________
That is “brave”??? Whoever made that font up, must have even worse handwriting than I do. And I -- a fun fact -- am unable to read my own writing once enough time has passed for me to forget what I wrote. On the university it went so bad that I had to transcribe my own notes on a typewriter to be able to learn from them afterwards.
________________
Do not try to think pink on demand, it is of no use. Keep busy instead. That actually works, unlike the positivity stuff. I know you do not need me saying that, but I feel like it is worth repeating.
Coulda been worse.
Coulda been one of those ‘hang in there’ kitty posters.
Onamission5:
:Snort: Yeah, they are that bad, and I loathe Kinkade for real and the knockoffs, but I’d take them too.
Abbeycadabra:
Sure, and that sort of crap is all over the place. You don’t need it on the bloody walls. Sanford hospital is bristling with chapels, they’re all over the place. One is across from oncology, and I can hear the bells ringing every time I’m waiting around to get my labs done. Chaplains are all over the effing place too.
Oh hell yes. That said, I wouldn’t approve of a tacky sign saying “Be Defiant” either. All those things take the form of commands, orders, admonishment. Not needed, because nothing fits all people, and such admonishments are the last thing you need hanging all over you.
Charly:
That’s really nice to hear.
Do I ever wish it was that way here. Instead, it’s constantly being shoved in your face.
Yes, it’s worth repeating. I get Affinity up and running each morning, then work on First Reaction. Need to get that one done, because a bunch of other pieces are crowding my head and breathing on my neck.
Busterggi:
That would be better. By magnitudes of order.
Fierce.
Defiance.
And a whole lot of ‘fuck yous’.
*hugs* and a sledgehammer.
rq:
Thank you. ♥
Artwork: OK. Wow. That photo of the artwork… that artwork really sucks. WTF.
At some point you have to wonder: if all this artwork sucks so hard, why not ask the patients about it? OK. (s) That’s probably too hard. (/s) But I still think it’s a good idea. A poll or something. How about that, people who decorate these spaces? Ask the patients who have to endure them for hours on end.
From my own mother’s treatment, I have learned just how very many people are in treatment. They are incredibly varied; cancer is no respecter of persons. But unfortunately it seems these things are not thought out ahead of time, and are just sort of last-minute. “My wife says she can come up with something to put on the walls, we’ll just go with that!” Trying to be fair: I can see that the medical part, the equipment and so on, is the thing most on people’s minds. But hey, living human beings have to be there a LOT. Living human beings who have cancer. Telling them to do things is really not what that artwork should be doing.
As for the rest: in a way, it’s too bad we gave up signaling to each other that we were having a hard time, like wearing black due to a death. If someone dressed for mourning breaks out in tears, well, you just turn away and give them a moment and wait patiently because you know they are going through a hard time. Cancer should be like that. I don’t know what colors to choose for it, though. Anyway, cancer touches a lot of lives, probably more than any of us realizes, and I think there is a lot of compassion out there.
Kestrel:
Oh yes. I’m in the same spaces every two weeks, sometimes more. I get to stare at this stuff every time, because there’s nothing else to look at. Once you’ve thoroughly poked about in one exam room, you have literally seen them all. Next time, I might have to break into one of the pink breast cancer bags.
A colour for cancer? Hmmm. I’d go for red purple because cancer cells are often stained that colour.
No, Caine! Don’t set it all on fire! I have another idea… take a sharpie with you and translate everything Owlmirror-style! :D
This is how it all sounds to me, anyway:
Translation: Keep your fear and anxiety to yourself, we don’t want to see it.
Translation: Please pretend you always believe everything is going to be fine, don’t let your darkest thoughts be noticeable, they make us uneasy.
Translation: We can’t be bothered to come up with something to cheer you up, so why don’t you do us all a favor and cheer yourself up already, uh?
***
Okay, enough silliness. I’m sorry the place is so badly decorated, that really sounds awful! Where my mother is being followed there is not much on the walls, just some poems. Nice ones actually, very nature-oriented, evoking trees, flowers, the ocean. And then there are these huge windows facing the interior of the building where there are some really nice indoor plants, beneath a glass dome that lets plenty of sunlight in. For the oncology ward of a public hospital it is a remarkably pleasant place. It looks like the whole space was thought out ahead of time, which again is remarkable for a public hospital. When we are in the waiting room we like to spend the time looking at the plants and discussing which of those we also have at home and which ones my grandma had… It helps. It’s the kind of decoration that lets us make our own associations, as you say. Too bad it seems to the exception, not the rule.
I hear you.
And yes, Theresa was a fucking monster.
I just googled “Kinkade knockoff paintings.”
OMFG!!
Gak!!
They are not treatment places, but Maggies Centres in the UK arose out of what you are talking about, the at best souless decoration too often found in any medical space. They provide non-treatment services for anyone with cancer and their carers. They very much believe in the importance of growing things and have gardens as part of the facilities. They are designed by top architects, but with the charity very much in control, so no egos wanting to show off at the cost of the functionality for the end users allowed. There are not enough of them yet, but more each year. This one isn’t too far from me https://www.maggiescentres.org/our-centres/maggies-oldham/architecture-and-design/
Caine I am so sorry about you crying in public, it would humiliate me too. Have a RAWR! for when you need it.
I just walked through my office. I thought the walls were an eggshell white. Nope. They are definitely a light beige. The chairs and curtains are all pastels, blues and greens mostly. All the art is secular and non-inspirational. Should I send photos?
Nightjar:
Yes, Yes, Yes. All that.
That sounds truly wonderful. I can envision myself in such a space easily, and happily making those good associations, too.
And, of course, hugs.
Raucous Indignation:
Yeah. Now you know how bad it is when that shit would be more acceptable.
Sure, I’d like to see. I have no idea of what my onco’s office looks like, never been. This is all the waiting area and warren of examination rooms in oncology.
Jazzlet:
Oh wow, that’s fabulous! You couldn’t help but feel better and more connected in such a setting.
Thank you. Fuck me, it about killed me to admit that.
WOW! that’s a lot of anger, and I am happy you can be angry. :-) Never did get all that motivational bullshit, it always demotivates me. It reminds me a lot of the palliative care people who go on about how much they have learned from the dying, all the time watching people’s lives extended way beyond any use.
I think what I hate most is someone trying to tell you how you should feel, leaving little or no space for your feelings! Well, unless you’re a feisty one like you. :-)
Tear down that shit, replace it with things that help people feel how they want to feel, not being told that there is one true way to feel.
Put up a blackboard / whiteboard, where people can scribble their genuine emotions. Yeah, it might be confronting, but so is cancer.
Keep on punching, keep on writing, and keep on being YOU!
David:
Yep, makes me go all contrary.
Now that’s something I’d like to see! In a room where you could close the door while you wrote or drew something, then open it back up for everyone to see.
I did a quick walk through with my phone. Sent you a few photos. Please be merciful. The building’s owners allowed a decent budget for decorating when we fitted out our space, but it wasn’t extravagant. The only piece I picked out was the triptych. It is covering they electrical panels in the infusion room. I think a stack of my cards are visible in one of the photos; I believe you now have the power to dox me.
All cells look red purple under the microscope. It’s an artifact of the hematoxylin and eosin stains commonly used in the lab. One of the first-years told me everything looked like different kinds of berry tart when I was a histology TA. True enough observation. Most cancer cells are white or off white without staining.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%26E_stain
Raucous Indignation:
:laughs: I already have the power to dox you, and I never have, so nothing to fear. I will be merciful, there’s a considerable amount of much better there, but some critiques, which aren’t awful. I’ll post some of them tomorrow, if that’s alright, by way of contrast.
I don’t look good in white.
Thank you Caine. I appreciate your friendship, and will appreciate your input.
Oh, @jazzlet, the atrium in that center is gorgeous. I love most that it’s not an indoor planter, but that the building has the appearance of having been constructed around the tree.
If you can’t burn it down, maybe you should cover it up. Go prepared with a stack of plain paper and a few bits of sticky tack and just slap one up where needed. Or you could take a lovely magazine photo, something scenic perhaps, and slap that up. Or puppies. Or make your own saying. I’m sure you can think of plenty.
I like demotivational posters. They’re oddly more inspiring.
Reading along I though “flowers, what’s wrong with pics of flowers”
Around here the common thread for hospital decoration seems to be cheap art prints. It obviously could be worse. Some hospitals also allow local artists to show their work in the halls. The quality of the art is very mixed*, but it makes the hospitals part of a community rather than a place outside of it.
*There was once a portrait series by a photographer that really touched and impressed me. It was portraits of old people, but instead of going for the “dressed up and looking serious”, she went for taking their pictures with something they loved. For an old couple that was each other. For another it was their flowers, their rolling pin, their chess board. For one man it was chocolate.
+++
Complicated things are complicated.
It takes a lot of self-awareness to push through these matters and not only allow ourselves to feel, but also to process feelings.
What do we even mean by “hope”?
Of course you must be convinced that there is a reasonable possibility that the treatment works as advertised.
Is that what “hope” is? That you’re among the X percent who will beat this shit instead of the 100 -- X percent who don’t?Maybe it is. So you go to your treatment and get through with it. And you need a lot of strength for that and you do whatever it takes. If “be brave” is what you need, get yourself a poster. Because then it’s something YOU need and want.
Me, I currently have a “Never give up” playlist and I hardly listen to anything else. It’s got the namesake by Sia, it’s got Shakira’s “Try everything” from Zootopia, it’s also got “Alive” by Pearl Jam. Because for me music is something that can at least temporarily give me the kick in the ass that I need.
But I wouldn’t presume that this would help people suffering from depression and should be played in psychiatric hospitals.
Giliell:
Nothing! I would love to be surrounded by pics of flowers. And cheap art prints work just fine. Doesn’t have to be expensive, and I’d put money on all the religious crap and even the ‘be brave’ shit being outrageously expensive. (That ‘be brave’ thing just screams Hobby Lobby.)
I have a similar which is about all I listen to right now because it works for me at this point in time, but like you, I would not ever presume it would work for anyone else.
Caine, I went through two years of intense chemo as a teenager, with supportive but stiff-upper-lip-type parents. Had to ‘keep strong’, be a ‘tough kid’ until I could melt down in private. Didn’t want to distress others. I can’t tell you how much I needed your voice then, and how much your post put into words so much of what life was like those decades ago. Thank you. Fuck cancer.
Klarr7:
Damn. I don’t know if I have what it takes for two years. That had to be so much more the nightmare while stiff lipping it all the way through. The Strong & Tough suit is a piss from the start. Put it on once or twice, everyone nods and approves. Exchange it for the real Quiet & Tired & Pissed, and everyone wants to know what’s wrong with you, why aren’t you our Strong & Tough Superhero today? Bleah. Other peoples’ expectations can be so hard to bear.
I’m very glad you made it through and out, and if I’ve helped in the smallest of ways, that means the world to me. Thank you, and oh yes, Fuck Cancer.
Yes, you helped. And not in a small way. ((((((Caine))))))