Two Wrongs Did Make A Right

I am not wrong very often. This is just a fact. So for me to be incorrect twice in such a short time is quite impressive. The first being in reaction to my first chemo. On Wednesday of last week, I hooked up to an IV and waited patiently while a sassy veteran nurse pumped six different drugs into my veins. Despite it taking nearly six hours to complete, I felt great and couldn't believe how easy this process was going to be. This is where I made my first critical error in judgement. Sure enough, at 7:08 pm, just as Alex Trebek was reading the final Jeopardy answer before the commercial break, it hit me. Absolute nausea and headache. That lasted for a solid three days. All the descriptions for nausea read 24 to 72 hours. And guess what. Hour 72 was the very moment at which I began to feel better.

That Sunday was the disaster of a game that was Super Bowl 48. To Peyton Manning and the Broncos, that was sad and your ability to lose so badly in the Super Bowl is truly spectacular (three of the worst Super Bowl losses in history belong to the Broncos). But besides the game were of course the commercials which were actually extremely confusing and out of the box. Except for one. As it opened, I just seemed to know it was going to be about cancer. Perhaps it was the short hair on the woman's head and the sad indie music playing in the background, but it was clear as day to me. At first I was annoyed and quite frankly appalled that a corporation like Chevrolet would stoop as low as to use cancer as a sales technique, but here is my second instance of being wrong. Watching all of my close friends and relatives change their profile pictures purple was one of the most moving things I have ever felt.

My previous experiences with social media were all senseless and unimportant, but this single action changed completely the way I view human communication and interaction. Sure, things like Facebook and Twitter are more often than not used for silly documentation of our privileged lives, but sometimes they are an incredible medium for expressions of love, support, and hope. Because as I've learned, it doesn't matter the way through which we interact and communicate, what matters is that we do. Cancer or any illness for that matter is extremely alienating until you open yourself to the multitude of ways people who love you show their support. Whether it's a parent or brother driving to appointments and treatments, friends 3000 miles away messaging through Facebook, hugs from close family friends, or even a like on Instagram, every interaction is a reminder of the love around me.

So sure, I may have been skeptical of Chevy's intent with integrating a cancer survivor into one of their ads, but I've learned to see beyond the my cold, cynical attitude about consumerism and embrace the message behind it and I'm glad to say that this time, I've never been happier to be wrong.