Why me?

Tonight I talked to a friend who is going through a crisis.  Her situation is completely out of my own personal experience.  And yet something about the conversation felt very familiar.  Her pain felt familiar.  Her fear.  And the question underneath: Why me? 

As a cancer patient, I was very familiar with this question that most of us find ourselves asking at some point in our lives.  Most cancer patients ask their doctors this question.  Ask their spouses.  Their families, thier friends.  Ask God, the universe or anyone else willing to listen.  

Some people accept their cancer diagnosis and move forward without stopping to ask.  That was't me.  I asked this question a lot.

And like most people, aside from Joan of Arc, I never got an answer.  At least not an answer that satisfied me.  The best answer I heard was: "why not me?"  (Maybe because I'm Jewish, and Jews supposedly like to answer a question with another question.)

For months this plagued me.  Why did I have to suffer?  Why didn't it happen to a bad person instead (I could easily have filled in some names.) Why was life so unfair? 

I'm not a philosopher, and I'm not deeply introspective, so I wasn't asking this question on a profound level.  Nothing existential that could have puzzled someone like Spinoza or Maimonides--- maybe not even Dr. Phil.  If you really let yourself go deep with this type of question, maybe you're more likely to come up with answers.  Or more questions.

I didn't do that.  Ultimately I stopped asking a thousand times a day and dialed it down to a hundred times a day.  After months of cancer treatment, sometimes I got through a day without asking more than a few times.  And then at some point, I stopped asking at all.

I never did get the answer but I stopped asking because the question didn't apply anymore.  Mostly because I was alive.  And besides, other people had the same question.  People who were also good.  People who had cancer and people who had things even worse.

And then a funny thing happened.  Further down the road, after I stopped asking and even stopped thinking about this very much, I started asking again: "Why me?"  Only now I was asking the question in reverse: not, why was I going to die?  But-- why had I lived?  Why had I lived when my prognosis was so dire and my odds were so poor?  Why had I lived when other women were dying?  What am I supposed to contribute?

It's commonly called survivor's guilt, felt by people who walk away from plane crashes or collapsed buildings. How can you not feel guilty and confused when everyone around you has died.  Why were you chosen to live?

For me, this question has not faded over time.  13 years after my diagnosis and survival, I'm still asking.  The difference is that now I know there is an answer--some mission or purpose meant for me, something I'm destined to contribute, some reason I was allowed to live.

So "Why me?"  remains a question without an answer.  Probably this is the way it should be, and was meant to be.  Because If I knew the answer, I would probably stop searching.

Comments

[ler]

a question like Why Me can often times keep us stuck in victimland. we can remain a victim of our circumstances or we can ask the question in reverse--why not me? just like you did. Being and remaining a victim-it's so normal, of course-keeps the cycle going-it perpetuates feelings of anger and rage.it's a healthy question to ask and it's also a healthy one to let go of when the time is right. When we can break free from being a victim and instead say "what can i take from this?what is g-d trying to teach me here?" we become empowered to see our role and how we have a choice to stand up or sit down.

[Darryle]

Completely agree with what you say here. Though I don't know who you are, I suspect you learned by experience--the way most of us learn this lesson ultimately. Took me most of my life to learn it but I feel grateful that I finally did. Thank you for adding your words of wisdom here--you perfectly summed up my feelings about being a victim.

[ByJane]

I never really got into the Why Me after the aneurysm. Of course, the whole story is that I knew it was going to happen (hmmm, think I should tell that story?). I never thought I was going to die, either, which kinda amazed my doctor. I do have other not-so-Kosher feelings--like waiting for the other shoe to drop and another aneurysm to pop. And I feel sheepish about having had such a Serious Illness, almost like I didn't deserve something so important (hmmmm, think I should follow that line of thinking?).

[Darryle]

I think I could sit down and talk for hours with you--and the first commenter---or anyone else about this subject. Completely fascinates me how we all deal with these crises in our lives. Plus of course, the aftermath. We humans are such complex creatures. I never get tired of this stuff even though I haven't written much about it here....yet.

[Rock and Roll Mama]

I haven't been a cancer patient, but I've asked this question of other things for certain- when I was pregnant and lost my first baby, I asked "Why me? Why her?" when, of course, there are just no satisfactory answers.

I'm watching my mom and MIL battle cancers right now- one breast, one ovarian. My MIL is a 15 year breast canver survivor, and now has Stage 3 ovarian cancer. They both have very good prognoses, but it is tempting sometimes to wonder "Why them?" or even, "Why now? Why both diagnosed within 2 weeks of each other?" Sometimes it's hard to know how to keep up, how to best help them both. But then other times, I see them talking and supporting each other, and I suspect that although I may not know the plan, or even like it if I did, there is one, somewhere. Thanks for sharing your experiences.

[Darryle]

I agree there are no answers for any of these things that don't make sense. But sometimes what can help is what your mom and mother-in-law are instinctively doing---and what I'm learning that blogging is all about---sharing our stories in good times and bad. Thank you so much for sharing yours here.