Blogging

Last time I went through cancer I kept a journal, but it was back in the dark ages before blogging. I'm finding a lot of differences this time, and many of them have to do with how this blog helps me cope.

And therapeutic blogging isn't just for me. Check out the Scientific American article: http://www.sciam.com/article.cfm?id=the-healthy-type (thanks, Luther, for the source). I'm not especially interested in which parts of my brain light up when I blog, though I am glad that some do. The psychological and social aspects are more important to me.

I've wandered around the blogosphere a bit, checking out other cancer sites. My unscientific conclusion is that women blog about their cancers more than men do, and women with breast cancer blog more than anyone else. I'm not sure why, but suspect that some of it is generational. Men of an age to get cancer don't usually open up about their feelings in public. They were brought up to bite the bullet and be tough. The male cancer blogs I've checked are almost always written by younger men or else are clearly there to offer information. One exception was someone who saw his cancer as a means of bringing others to God. It reminded me of a friend who asked if I didn't see mine as a message from God. I said, "You know, I'd have paid attention to a telegram. Especially if it had been signed."

Women with breast cancer blog a lot. In our culture, mess with our breasts and you bring a lot of emotion to the surface. These blogs tend to be very emotional.
In any case, therapeutic blogs seem to be a new part of our toolkit in dealing with the disease.

I guess I'm part of a developing tradition.

Here's what I've noticed about what happens when I blog:

I feel better, both physically and emotionally. Everything settles. Writing here isn't a substitute for talking; I'm fortunate that Jerry is here and willing to listen, and even more fortunate that he knows when to listen and when to pull me out of a morass of self-pity. But blogging gives me a slightly different outlet, partly because you can stop reading at any time and my feelings won't be hurt (unless you make a point of telling me).

When I blog, I have to put my thoughts in some sort of order. It's a kind of mental discipline that my chemo-soaked brain needs.

The blog pulls me out of myself, even though writing a blog is about as egocentric as you can get. I spend time thinking, what have I learned from this that would be worth while for someone else who (God forbid) is facing cancer? What would be interesting? What will I want to remember? What questions do people usually ask?

What I never expected was that the blog would bring me closer to friends and family. I started it with the vague idea that it would help keep family up to date with my treatment and progress, but it has become much more. I follow other blogs that I didn't even know about and get emails from people that I didn't know well (or at all). I've made new friends, and recovered old ones.

By the way, your comments and emails mean a tremendous amount to me. I didn't want to put my email address right out here in public for fear of spammers and axe-murderers, but for anyone who'd like to write to me directly but doesn't know my email address, it's my first initial followed directly by my last name and the final part is ne.rr.com -- and I'd love to hear how you're doing. This conversation shouldn't be one-sided.