Survivor Guilt

A lot of you have probably heard of the term “survivor guilt”
and wondered what it meant.

Or perhaps you knew what it meant and didn’t believe in it…that it seemed silly for someone who has survived cancer to have guilt over living.

But maybe you do believe in it.

I’m here to tell you that I believe it is very real and to explain my personal journey with it…

Simply put, survivor guilt is a term used by cancer survivors to explain the “guilt” they feel for beating the disease while others did not.  If someone with a medical degree were to address survivor guilt, they might say that cancer is beyond our control ~ how our bodies handle treatment is entirely attributed to factors outside of our control, that we should not feel guilty.

But we still do…

My guilt started at a young age.  I had overcome my kidney issues and had received the diagnosis of my first cancer – the PTLD (Post-transplant lymphatic disease).  I was 15 years old.

At the same time I had received my diagnosis, my dad’s best friend, Gary, received a diagnosis of lung cancer.  I was sad, for both of our situations, and a bit naive, but I figured that it was a no-brainer – we would both get better.

We had to.

I’m sure that’s how most people feel in the dawn of a cancer diagnosis – that they “just have to” get better.
For their family, their friends, for the life that they haven’t finished living yet.
Unfortunately, the reason why cancer is such a frightening disease is because not everyone gets better.
It takes away parents, siblings and best friends.  It takes away a piece of our heart.

And that’s what it did with Gary…

As we both endured treatment, I began to improve while he did not.

This was where my survivor guilt began.

At that time, I didn’t fully comprehend the severity of the “stages” of cancer.  I could not understand how treatment could help one person and not another.

I watched my dad as he became a caretaker, sticking by Gary’s side, alongside Gary’s wife.
I watched, in guilt-ridden anger, as my dad prepared to say goodbye to his best friend.

I just didn’t get it.  I didn’t understand why God was taking Gary from this earth; he was a great man who deserved more than the 51 years he was given.  And I didn’t understand what was so special about me that I got to stay…

Those are some hard thoughts to work through at the tender age of 15.

Gary passed away on November 27, 2003 – Thanksgiving Day.  We had set down at the table that evening with some out of town family when my dad received the call from Gary’s wife that it wouldn’t be too much longer…

That was the first time I saw my dad cry.
He had lost his friend.

But in the midst of this sadness, Gary did something amazing.  Something that I had actually forgotten about until looking through photos to use for this post.

In the last few weeks of his life, Gary, along with my dad’s assistance, did something that must have been extremely difficult – but also quite comforting.  With much thought, gifts were purchased and cards were written for his wife, Jane, for their anniversary and her birthday – one last gift from her beloved.

Because you see, when someone dies, their body may be gone but their spirit remains.

They remain in the memories that we have with them.

I will always remember my sister’s 5th birthday when Gary drove 10 kids around in his John Deere Gator to look at stuffed animals that were staged for a “zoo” – or the video of my dad, Gary and their friend Jeff dancing and playing air instruments to “Money for Nothing” in those ‘early Apple days’ – or when I lost my hair for the first time and he tried to ease my self consciousness by taking off his hat to reveal his own bald head.

Those memories never die.  As time goes on, we may forget the sound of their voice or how it felt to hug them.  But we have to remember that they’re always with us, and we will see them again.  And when that day comes, boy! will it be great…they will greet us with open arms and it will be as if no time at all has passed.

If Gary knew that I had survivor guilt during our illnesses, he would say to me “Don’t be crazy!  I’ve had a great life – a job I enjoyed, the love of a wonderful woman, and have treated you kids like my own.  You have so much life left – don’t feel guilty for wanting to live it.”

There is a great song by Wil Maring called “Easy” and Wil played it at Gary’s funeral.
“Some people go and some people stay, and I thank the someone who sent you my way…”

No truer words are spoken.  I’m blessed to have had Gary in my life for those 16 years, and his wife, Jane, has continued to stay a wonderful friend.  I know I will see him again one day and he’ll greet me with his big smile.

Then he’ll say, “See, kid, I knew you’d have a great life!”