Crawling Out of the Woodwork

I know, from life’s experiences, that genuinely bad people often do get a spectacular comeuppance in the end.  I’ve never known of even one indisputably bad or downright evil person who eventually did not fall spectacularly from his or her own pedestal of misery and mayhem to crash and burn out of existence.  That being said, like so many who have been wronged in their lives, I am still waiting on they-got-theirs news with respect to an EE, a.k.a., the Evil Ex, and a former BFF from my youth, the so-called friend of more than a decade who plotted and conspired to in her words: take everything I had that was good in my life.  Yeah, I know, scary stuff.  And yes, once upon a youth, some of us had appalling judgment in friends to say the very least.

Call me the girl with the glass stubbornly half full, but decades later, I still remain confident that really bad people eventually get theirs.  I honestly believe a track record of toxic misery and betrayal result in failed lives so much so that many who deserve it do actually end up alone and unloved.  I also believe that I don’t have to lift a finger or say a word.  Rightfully, this kind of thing seems to happen all on its own as poisonous people nearly always self destruct.  

But I keep my social media page settings on private and you should too.  My motto is: be nice, not stupid.  That’s because, and this blog entry should serve as an official warning, there are any number of ‘bad people’ who suddenly try and befriend a cancer patient/survivor, erroneously thinking we are particularly vulnerable or more easily duped because of the trauma we went through. 

Warning to people like the long forgotten and very former ex-BFF, still lurking out there in cyberspace: we cancer survivors aren’t vulnerable and we are not easily duped.  So no, I won’t ever be your friend again and no, I won’t just forgive you for openly plotting to destroy my life (a plot that failed miserably I might add) and no, I will never forget that you actually told people you would never stop until you had taken, ‘everything I had’.  People that crazy need to be institutionalized and given an open invitation to intensive shock therapy parties.  Not handed forgiveness on a platter because that’s just an open door to wreak havoc in the forgiver’s life again.  Thus, the crazy ex-BFF never did get my daughter, my career, my bank account or even my frankly revolting and abusive ex (the latter whom she was actually more than welcome to).   

So, fast forward to last year around the time my daughter had CJ and I were coming out of chemo and radiation.  Lo and behold, the crazy ex-friend conveniently tried to claw her way back into my life.  Holy cow, I marveled at the time, I beat one form of cancer, only to discover another form of metaphorical cancer oozing out of the very walls of my life.  Luckily for me, I have an acidic and at times, brutally dismissive way with words (no, really I do) and, if it came down to it, a wicked good lawyer.  It therefore didn’t take much to make Crazy Person slink shamefully into cyberspace, back into the vaporous past from whence she had slithered from. 

At least my encounter was not as shocking as one of my radiation buddies experienced.  He told me how his grown daughter, upon hearing he had (entirely curable) prostate cancer, marched over to his house with new estate will and durable power of attorney documents, angrily demanding he sign over everything to her.  The reason this stunt was so beyond remarkable to him was that he and his wife had not seen her in years, the family had been estranged.  But that didn’t stop her from flying out of the woodwork when she thought/hoped he was a goner. 

Can’t you just see that swarm of flying monkeys exiting the castle turret in his daughter’s wake?   

Needless to say, he didn’t sign anything.  But he did warn me that terrible people often crawl out of their sarcophagi when you get cancer.  Like vampires sniffing for blood.  I warmly, albeit natively, reassured my buddy that aside from one mentally unbalanced relative who kept trying to convince me not to do chemo, radiation or even surgery because she SO wanted me to DIE, well, I didn’t have any enemies to speak of. 

Ha.  

Just three weeks after that fateful conversation, Crazy Person tried to worm her way back into my life (after an impressive 20-plus year hiatus) and I instantly realized that my memory and whatever lessons I had once learned about bad people needed a serious smack up the side of the head from the Reality Fairies.

This is because there are pros and cons, up and downsides to moving on with one’s life after a really horrendous betrayal.  When you honestly focus on your own goals and life while simultaneously refusing to give your enemies free rent in your head, the downside is that the anti-Christ is likely still out there, plotting against you.   

Just because you are paranoid, doesn’t mean that they aren’t after you.  

I had clearly forgotten that charming old adage.  But the alarming e-overture I received was a total wake up call and alerted me to the fact that while I strived to live my life with honest purpose and discipline, hard work, trust and joy, clearly not everyone else I had known in my life was going to be reciting the Girl Scout Motto any time soon. 

Not even close. 

So, just like with the cancer, I now stay vigilant, looking over my shoulder now and again, to make sure that anybody remotely cancerous in character or deed stays well out of my life.  

After testing our collective mettle against such a deadly disease, anyone who would think to do cancer survivors harm should be forewarned: the battle is going to be fought on our turf, not yours.  

And we’ve already proven that we know how to win.