Cancer Survivors' Day

Yesterday was the annual Cancer Survivors' Day celebration at D-H Keene, and I went over and got thoroughly depressed.
There were several big white tents, free hot dogs and hamburgers, clowns with twisted balloons to entertain the kids, Morris dancers accompanied by an accordian, all of the nurses and a couple of the doctors volunteering their time. Even the weather cooperated.
I'm still trying to figure out why it all brought me so far down.
Jerry wondered if it was because there was such a large crowd of people with cancer, but I don't think that was it. I know we're a big crowd. What is it the statistics say? One out of four Americans get it? Are touched by it? Die of it? (The two important things to remember about statistics is what subject they refer to and what the numbers refer to.) In any case, the crowd probably should have been even larger. It wasn't that the crowd was so grim, either, though they were enjoying themselves in a particularly New England way (without cracking a smile).
Maybe it was because we were being treated as patients again, being fed and entertained without anything expected of us or any chance to contribute. The celebration is a nice idea, but it puts patients back into the passive role of recipient. I love doing the survivor's walk during the Relay for Life, and, in fact, the whole Relay, because there's something useful coming out of it, publicity and funding.
On the other hand, when I told Cinda about my reaction to the Survivors' Day she said, "Of course you were depressed. Morris dancers and an accordion? That would get to anyone."
(Apologies to the Morris dancers and accordion afficionados who read this.)