Telling the community

The last month has been passed slowly and quickly at the same time. I have spent most of the time balancing on the fine line between denial and hope. We found out about my acoustic neuroma on Monday, December 3, 2011. There were two hazy weeks of school following the phone call. We spent late nights on the internet researching doctors, treatment options, and other patients’ experiences. The school administration, my department and my colleagues outside of the Koch Center have been phenomenally supportive. I am sure our dean of faculty thought we had made an appointment with him to request maternity leave rather than discuss medical leave.  Our family and friends have also provided so much time and support – I am so very grateful.

One of the most challenging aspects of the last few weeks has been going to class and not revealing my medical issue to my students. In fact, the day after I received the phone call from Dr. Stamm, we were reviewing genetic mutations and the cell cycle in the class. I literally had to stand in front of my students and discuss the biological processes that had, on some level, caused my own tumor without melting into a puddle of tears by the white board. Thankfully, we had Christmas vacation to rest and visit doctors. While the time was ultra relaxing and recuperating (we have moved three tines this year, got married, I worked at summer camp for the first time, and we started new jobs at a boarding school) it also allowed for large swaths of free time for my mind to wander and worry. Ultimately, the return of the students has been a wonderful distraction.

I decided to tell the members of our dorm and my classes early this week. We were on dorm duty Wednesday night and I teach all of my classes on Thursday, so the timing seemed perfect. At the same time, is there ever a good time to tell unsuspecting teenagers about a person medical issue that will eventually impact their lives? Having both lost parents before we were out of college, we feel that we bring some interesting experience to the table for the particular life event we are now facing. Many of our students have never had a medical issue intersect this closely with their lives before. Don’t get me wrong, I am under no illusions of my importance in their day-to-day functioning, but still, hearing someone you interact with everyday has a brain tumor is shocking for an adolescence who may view themselves as indestructible.

As far as sharing the actual news, I didn’t plan my delivery, just the timing. My only plan was to limit the details, focus on how my condition would impact their class or their dorm experience, and mention we would all have to be a bit flexible until my full recovery.  I started each debriefing with, “I have some personal news to share that is going to impact you.” From that introduction I am not entirely sure what I said, but I am drawing many parallels to speaking at my father’s funeral. It felt like an out of body experience. I could almost see myself standing at the front of the room. I could hear words coming out of my mouth, but I was not planning the sentences, just trying to filter what was coming out. It is rare that a high school teacher actually has a class’ full attention. I mean full eye contact from every single student at one time is RARE. It often feels like this kind of attention is what you are always battling for when it is time to give directions about using Bunsen burners and chemicals. In all actuality, when you really have all of your students staring at you with concern – it is deathly intimidating. Now that the news is percolating through the greater community, I recognize that our past experience will help us model how to deal with a family crisis.

People will be watching. Not judging, but ‘the students are always watching’. When my dad died I was most upset with our culture’s lack of ability to talk about real-life death or tragedy. These topics seem to be confined to books, plays, movies, TV shows, etc. We seem to want to keep them at a safe distance and ‘try-on’ or ‘practice’ our emotional reaction by watching make-believe characters deal with depressing issues. Yet when something gloomy actually happens most Americans seem lost for words and can only offer cheesecake (one of the most maddening events following my father’s death – I hadn’t been able to eat a meal in days and someone thought bring the most decedent dessert would be helpful), cards, and meaningless phrases – “I’m so sorry for your loss.”   I want to clarify, I am a much a part of American culture as the people I was angry with after dad died. I often revert to those very same coping mechanisms. I know that bringing food to a family who has lost someone is extraordinarily helpful and people who bring the hallmark cards really do care, but I can remember just wanting to talk to people who had been close to my dad and just say – this happened, he is gone….

In our department meeting this week, we indirectly had a conversation about the purpose of school. I was reminded of a course I took in Australia. The professor often spoke of teachers as ‘cultural workers’ and the concept has stuck with me ever since. Here is my chance…. I believe this particular group of students will more likely remember how I chose to deal with a brain tumor rather than the process of cellular respiration. So, given my situation and our unique circumstances, I hope to model openness and courage. I also hope to learn how to ask for and receive help.

I want to thank everyone in my life that has already been willing to talk about my tumor as I process what it means for my future even if it has been uncomfortable. Also, I am very grateful to everyone who helped us consider my treatment options and led us to Dr. Martuza. Thanks also must go to everyone who has offered to cover my work commitments – I know how busy everyone’s schedule is already and adding an additional class, dorm duty, afternoon ski trip, or sit-down table will not be easy. I am so thankful. You are making it possible for me to recover without worrying about my professional life.