This is my dog, Hasselhoff. This post has nothing to do with him. But lookit him. He’s smiling.
I have put off writing about this for a long time. And with good reason, so I’m going to be up front about it. I don’t want your fucking advice. Let’s get that out of the way. If you know me, you know how gods damned strongly I feel about my body/my choice when it comes to every single damn thing. And let’s be honest here…we live in a world where women are assumed to not be able to make decisions abut their own health for themselves. Where we pass laws to punish them so that if they do have to make one decision or another, they will be thoroughly shamed for it. We have, all of us, been conditioned from birth to see women as delicate creatures incapable of making decisions without a little help. And that is infuriating. When I became sick over the summer, I started to talk about it here, and then dropped it because I just don’t want the advice. I don’t want to hear it. None of it. Same goes for this. Say anything you want. But if you start it with “you really should…” I will find and punch you. We good? Good.
So let’s talk. My family has learned recently that we carry the BRCA2 genetic mutation. If you don’t know what that is, don’t worry. I didn’t know, either, until I found out I might have it. Here are the cliff’s notes: it gives you the shittiest of shitty odds for developing breast or ovarian cancer (and several other cancers, as well). Initially, one relative tested positive for it. Then another. And then, yesterday, I learned that one more had it. Someone I love. And I’m talking about it now because she is getting some shit advice. Some unsolicited shit advice. So this is a PSA, for everyone who may hear this from a friend, a co-worker, a relative, or just a stranger on the bus (psst, strangers on the bus…stop talking to people about their personal shit. It’s weird. And put your pants on.)
Do not say:
1) No, you cannot get your breasts removed. You’re self-conscious enough as it is. (Seriously. Don’t fucking say this.)
2) This is god’s will. (No. It’s a genetic mutation. Stop it now. When science has an explanation for rain, you can’t keep claiming it’s Zeus making the thunder. Enough already.)
3) But don’t you want kids? (Maybe. But also, you’re an insensitive asshole.)
4) But you have two sons, don’t you want to try for your girl? (I get this even if I’m not talking about having all of my reproductive parts removed, so it’s really an all-encompassing PSA here. Never say this to people. Some of us aren’t trying to fill quotas. Some of us, in fact, are staring down the barrel of 35 and are really fucking tired and would love it if you could talk to us about something other than our ability to reproduce. Strangely enough, we have other interests and capabilities and you could ask about those sometimes, too.)
5) Will you really be a woman if you have no more woman parts? (Oh, hello, ignorance. Thank you for not only raising a really personal concern, but also for being grossly insensitive to anyone who doesn’t fit into your perfectly designed cis-normative world. How do you even know I identify as a woman now? Stop making assumptions based on what you can see on the surface. Forever.)
6) Your insurance won’t cover that. And if they do, they won’t cover the reconstructive surgery. You’ll be on your own there. (Shut up about my boobs already. Why do you assume I care this much about having them? Why do YOU care so much about whether I have them? Also, you don’t work for my insurance company. Stop making shit up based on what you THINK. It’s annoying.)
Here’s what you can say:
I’m so sorry. This sounds scary and like a very difficult decision to make. Do you want to talk about it?
That’s. It. Your opinion on this matter is to be offered only if solicited, and is to be presented in a gentle and empathetic manner. If you are not capable of this, you pretend to get an emergency phone call, say how sorry you are, and walk away. Here’s what YOU need to know in this situation: you are not going to present this person with new information. She just received the results of a genetic test. She didn’t order that on eBay. She met with and discussed the outcome with a medical professional. Then she googled forever. Your quick google search? That was nice of you to do. It really is wonderful that you wanted to learn more to support your friend. But you’re not supporting her by telling her what you find on WebMD as though it’s some groundbreaking shit that never would have occurred to her. This brings us back to paragraph one: no matter what you’ve been taught, women are fully capable of making decisions for themselves. Do not try to save her. She’s not your damsel, she’s your friend.
Now, specific to the friend, you might have next steps. Like jokes. Michele and I have been making ALL the jokes. Because this is how we deal. Do you have a friend going through this who likes jokes? Great! She gets to make the first joke. You carefully follow suit. You understand that the jokes could stop at any second. You understand that she just found out or is waiting to find out if she has a very high probability of getting cancer. You understand that with this information comes decisions. Decisions like what should she do. Should she have a prophylactic double mastectomy? Hysterectomy? Oophorectomy, which she never even knew was a thing but now she knows SO MUCH about? Will she be able to pay for things like this? Will she be able to take the time off of work? Will her company consider this to be elective and disapprove the time she’ll need for any surgeries, if that’s the route she decides to take? Enjoy your jokes, but don’t get butthurt when she stops laughing and starts crying because there’s only so much joking before she remembers that this is serious and it is happening to her.
So, are we good? Do we understand one another? Awesome. Now, let me tell you about me, guys. I have put this test off for many months, mostly due to the other health issues which I am still experiencing. I thought, eventually, this other business would be under control and I could deal with the next agenda item. But this most recent development has knocked me on my ass. And so next Thursday I will straddle up for my doctor and, after we make uncomfortable small talk while both pretending that he’s not poking around in my vagina and feeling me up while the conversation desperately tries to avoid even the shortest silence, we will arrange for my test. And when I get the results, I will share them with you. Not because I want your advice. But because I want your support. Because I’m not afraid to admit that I’m really afraid. I’m afraid for me. I’m afraid for my sons and nieces and brother and father and aunts and uncles and cousins.. So I’m going to talk about this. And I’m going to make so many jokes. And I might cry. And you can come along for the ride or back uncomfortably away from the conversation. I won’t judge you for either. But don’t diagnose me. Don’t tell me what you read on WebMD. And for the love of science, don’t reduce me to the sum of my parts. In the months I have had to think about this, I have leaned more and more to the “just get rid of them” resolution. Is that going to be a hard decision if it becomes a reality? I’m sure it will be. But I am not the sum total of my body parts. I am the sum total of my experiences. And while this could amount to an absolute shit experience, that experience will be more a part of who I am as a person than my breasts or my uterus or my ovaries have ever been. They have all done wonderful things. But they couldn’t have done them without me. And I’ll still be here, with or without them.
P.S. This could be an uncomfortable comments section, since this entire post is a rulebook detailing how you can talk to me. So instead of making the obligatory “I’m so sorry, Mel, I’m here for you” comments that I’m sure you absolutely mean but which will seem compulsory given the above, let’s talk about comebacks. The women (and possibly the men) in my life are all in for some infuriating conversations because not enough people read my blog and therefore won’t be briefed on the rules (you can do something about that, too. You see the share buttons. Do something). Your job, should you choose to accept it, is to fill the comments with the absolute best responses you can come up with to throw back at obnoxious people trying to make our decisions for us. Give us your best, internet. And know that we deeply love you for it.
I’m pretty sure if someone told me it was God’s will I had a genetic tendency toward cancer, I would cock my head up to the sky as if hearing something, nod knowingly, and say, “That was God. He said to tell you you’re an asshole and have no way of knowing what his will is. Also, he told me when you’re going to die.” (look sadly at the God’s-will-douchebag) “If you’ve got a bucket list, I’d get started on that ASAP.” Then, when they were grasping for how to reply to that, I’d walk away. Gleefully.
Hasselhoff is an excellent name for a dog. MOST excellent.
Oh, it would be downright infuriating if I pretended to talk to god. I like that.
Not a comeback as much of an idea. If we go for the removal option, I vote for many shared dalek-voiced “exterminates.”
Any excuse is a good excuse to go pretend-Dalek.
Also, every time I read about oophorectomy, I think of the ood, and I’m like “make ood jokes with Michele” but then I forget
So, ood jokes. We need some of those.
Ood jokes. Brilliant. I’ll start mulling them over.
People give really shitty advice. There should be a law that if the advice is particularly stupid they have to follow it.
This post is amazing! Honest and to the point. I have no wisdom or great knowledge of my own to share on this matter or in general. I’ve truly learned a lot from this post and will remember this going forward.
I’m sorry, this situation sucks. And for what it is worth, this is in my prayers. I know it wont bring comfort. Simply sharing that you and your situation is on my mind. That’s all anyone can really offer from an outside perspective.
** I’ve always wanted a pet named Hasselhoff. It’s an inside joke with my wife. I can’t explain it without looking crazy, but I love that you named your dog this.
It came down to Stroganoff or Hasselhoff. You won’t sound crazy in this crowd, I promise.
Thanks for the good vibes. We all appreciate them.
I’ve also thought about getting two dogs and naming the Pete and Re-Pete (repeat). I might think about these things a little too often
There’s an online survey I participate in occasionally, and they list a whole bunch of companies and ask, if I were looking for a job, which I would be proud to work for and which I would be embarrassed to work for. My reaction is always, “Jesus, are you implying that there are some jobs that, if I got them, I should be embarrassed enough that I should prefer to have no job?”
This is the same thing, to me. If somebody needs to do what they need to do to fucking LIVE, who the fuck am I to imply that that life will be diminished enough that it won’t be worth living? Because let’s be honest: that’s exactly what these fucks are saying. When they say, “Will you really be a woman?” they’re saying, “Hey, you know being a woman? You’re one now, which I presume I have to remind you. Anyway, it might be better for you to be dead than to do something that affects my dumbfuck perception of your gender.”
Fuck people. They’re assholes. You do what you need to do, and know that it’s the right thing.
Sorry, Mel! But I just don’t do rules. At the same time I don’t want to say any of those horrible inconsiderate things so lets just pretend that I did and you can fly here to punch me till your heart’s content. I warn you though that afterwards I’ll hug you a lot so you might wanna’ go ahead and punch me in advance for that too.
What I know of breast cancer is shit…it basically amounts to it sucks and little more…so no advice here. If at anytime you need a friend to talk to; you have one. ^^^ Notice an invitation not an assumption, but it is a totally open invite. <3
Hi. All I can think of are responses that imply small penises = not a real man. So, that’s not much better than any of the statements or questions that inspire the comebacks. I enjoy the first comment about talking to God, though. That’s a good one.
And also, I love you.
And also again? You should probably try to use the term “sand trap” at least once in conversation with anyone about this.
I think your response to number 3 covers them all: “You’re an insensitive asshole.” Honestly, it kills me what dicks people can be sometimes, even when they mean well.
I don’t have a comeback, I’m sorry. All I have is this:
My aunt died when she was 55 years old after fighting ovarian cancer for nearly five years. I loved her more than I could ever say. I don’t want anyone to ever lose someone they love that way. I would perform my own oophorectomy before I would put my husband, mother, sister, and friends through that.
Look them right in the eye and tell them to go piss up a rope, because you’ve got your life under control.
“Thank you so much for your educated opinion, Doctor Chucklefuck. Your MD in shittastic douchebaggery has really helped me come to grips with my serious medical condition. Should I pay you with punches to the face in full now, or would you prefer to take payment in installments?”
I won’t even trademark that shit. You’re welcome. *tosses hurr*
Umm, Let’s see. “Well, its a good thing you aren’t my doctor.” “Of course I want your opinion. I always make life changing decisions about my body parts by polling strangers and family members and taking a weighted average. Just for full disclosure, the weight I associate with your opinion is -10. Here’s the link to my surveymonkey…”
Sorry for the suck.
You said this blog does not get read or replied to..holy cow I had to read through a lot to get to this box
Your mother-in-law shared this, and I was in no way prepared for what I was about to read. I loved your attitude and I fear for anything,or anyone, that thinks its going to mess with you…
I have a comedian friend who has an autistic child. She got tired of idiots and came up with a t-shirt that says ” just because you can talk, doesn’t mean you should” !!
She is an amazing lady and forthright with her thoughts…you’d love her comedy!! And I think she’d love this blog as well.
I remain hopeful, and will look forward to any other posts your Mother in law passes on from you….of course next time I know to sit down before reading!!
Powerful ! Thank you for sharing
Shit.
I can’t come up with anything fantastic to say to the assholes cos I’m trying not to cry. Love you, Mel. You need me, even if it’s just to punch someone in the junk for you, you let me know.
This really doesn’t get discussed enough. BRCA runs in my family too. We lost my maternal grandma and aunt to ovarian cancer. My mom had her ovaries removed years ago when she learned she had the mutation. For some reason she put off having the double mastectomy until just recently.I think because in our family the mutation has so far only expressed itself as ovarian cancer she tried to ignore the breast cancer risk for awhile, but those fucked up statistics do not lie. She had the mastectomy last year and while it wasn’t easy, it wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought it would be. And now she has gone from having a crazy high chance of getting breast or ovarian cancer to like virtually no chance. No more middle of the night anxiety, worried that maybe she already has cancer. No more going to the doctor every three months for an ultrasound or MRI. No more worrying that we are going to lose our mom in the same awful way we lost our grandma and aunt. And she also has really fabulous ta-tas now that will never droop, so there’s that.
I had the test and it was negative- thank god, but how messed up is it that something this huge is up to 50/50 odds? My sister has been putting it off (totally understandable) and I really hope she gets it soon but I don’t pressure her. If she has the mutation I will be there for her every step of the way as a shoulder to cry on but all of the decisions will be her own. People like to feel smart and have opinions about things they know nothing about. I had people react to my mom’s mastectomy with “Wow, that seems extreme.” And my only come-back was “How lucky for you that you don’t have to make such a horrible decision. I don’t see anything extreme about my mom choosing to live as long as possible, but thanks for your concern.”
Sorry for the rambling comment. Hang in there.
People are morons. You don’t have to say anything when someone is going through pain. :p People just need to shut their pieholes and listen. If you wanted their advice, you would ask.
I have no comebacks, but I’m more than willing to go kick some butts.
When my sister died of colon cancer at the age of 32, my sunshine and rainbows, perfect little 19 year-old life ended. I had helped care for her in the end and let me tell you changing a colonostomy bag wasn’t pretty. Now I have to have a camera up my backside every 3 years to make sure I don’t get it, too.
Spend whatever time you have doing what you need to do and don’t let anyone else get you down. People are basically good and try to help and sometimes they just don’t know how. My favorite comeback is always, “I’m sorry, did you think I was speaking to you?”
p.s.- Thanks Jessica, for passing this on to me.
I don’t have a full comeback but considering you are the first person I witnessed use the word “ladyshow”, I feel it could be of good use to you in said comebacks. <3
First off I sincerely love you and miss sharing work space.
Secondly… My humorous side is not talking to me today because I’m overwhelmed with some things. So I can’t think of any other comeback…. But I did try and it went something along the lines of asking the person if they thought it was a good idea to save the removed part and have it framed but…. Again… I’m. Not on point tonight.
Keep your head up girl. You’re a fighter. Fingers crossed for good news and I will be thinking about you daily.
Whenever confronted with a douchebag who infuriates me, I find the easiest, simplest response to them is “Go fuck yourself.” Because, let’s be real here. People who are stupid enough to make ridiculous comments are not smart enough to catch on to the sarcasm and imaginative humor you and your friends could come up with.
Remember– sometimes simple is best! But, if you want to ‘class it up’ a bit, you can say it in Swedish: Dra åt helvete. Or, in Italian: vai a farti fottere!
Mucho love and hugs
If the subject gets brought up you could always say “just remember I am the one going through this, I know a fair amount about the options out there and how it will change things in my life and so I don’t need someone else asking me things I am already asking myself. Its not helpful. However what I do need is you to be sensitive, is that too much to ask.”
Wish you all the best.
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