Telling your co-worker

The day finally came today. Someone at my school, in the staff room, asked how my summer was.  The moment of truth. If you know me in person, I'm terrible at telling a lie.  Awful. So there it was......the question I had been hoping to avoid for a few more months. Long enough for them to get to know me first and not my disease. Oh well, I didn't make it.

I tried to keep it simple. As simple as you can....... but how do you keep weekly doctor's visits, deadly diseases, and out patients surgeries simple.  I don't know. I haven't figured it out yet.  When I uttered the word "melanoma" the discomfort was palatable. And I felt like garbage for being honest. From then on, I tried to minimize how rough the summer was. I don't think I did a very good job.  Let's just say I tried to steer the conversation quickly in another direction.

I'm worried about how my fellow co-workers will treat me tomorrow.  Honestly, I don't care about how they judge me. I didn't before and I surely don't know.  Cancer will do that to you.  What I do care about is them being uncomfortable around me.  I'm still me.  The goofy, trying to figure out 6th grade, new teacher they knew yesterday. Unfortunately, they now might see me as battling a potentially devastating disease.  I've become my diagnosis again. And that's what it boils down to for me. For a few blessed weeks, no one knew. I was me, without melanoma hanging a black cloud over my head.  And I'm not that now.  I don't like it. I liked being the me that might have been before that fateful call in June. And I can't be any longer. The ruse is up.

I know this makes me seem shallow and vain.  It's because I am shallow and vain sometimes. I wanted to be judged on the merit of my work with making low income students successful, strong learners.  I don't want to be the teacher who has skin cancer.  I'm not that woman, I am so much more.  I know I have time in the coming months to show exactly who I am.  I also know that that time will forever now be tinged with the shade of melanoma.  And I don't like it. Not at all. I'm strong enough to admit that now. I'm strong enough to admit being shallow and vain. It's ironic. The disease that gives me the strength to admit my weaknesses is the one I don't want to be judged for.

The information about me will spread through the ranks of my co-workers in the coming days. I'm not looking forward to the sympathy and dealing with it. (See my previous post about my inability to deal with it).  I really need to come up with a polite, positive response to well meaning co-workers who find out about my diagnosis.  Right now, I've got nothing but painful, uncomfortable honesty. My mom always did say "honesty is the best policy," so I think I'll start there. It's something more than I know what to say now.