My Elephant in the Room

By Elaine L. Orr

The expression, the elephant in the room means a problem that is not discussed because it's uncomfortable to do so. 

In business, if a meeting features a company's new product (let's say generic spell check for writers), it may be announced in glowing terms. However, you and a couple other staff have tested the program and found that it changes the spelling of some common words to naughty expressions. Developers are frantically working to fix that. 

You glance at your colleague with a knowing smile, "I notice President Flimflam is avoiding the elephant in the room." (And wouldn't you love to know how to code software to do something like that?)

The elephant-in-the-room concept can be useful in fiction. A houseguest has just discovered Uncle Cluster in the wine cellar, passed out with a corkscrew and his favorite bottle of wine in his lap. Since the guest has been sent to retrieve the exact bottle, she gently lifts it from Uncle Cluster's lap and goes back to the party.

Upstairs, people are politely commenting on the uncle's absence. Perhaps he's simply running late. Maybe he's having car trouble. Uncle Cluster's drinking problem is the elephant in the room. And in this case, a character knows about it but conceals his whereabouts. Interesting...

I have my own elephant in the room. In 2014, I published a post called "Linda Rae and the Nellie Chronicles." I highlighted the life of my fun-loving cousin Linda, who died at 62 of colon cancer. She had never had a colonoscopy, and she'd actually had symptoms. My advice was, "Don't let your life end before it should because you didn't have time for a cancer screening."

Nine years later, after my sixth colonoscopy, I learned I have colon cancer. It can't be more than 3.5 years old, because I had none at my last screening. (Linda's doctors told her she'd had it for at least 10 years.) 

Because the illness runs so strongly in my mom's family (grandmother, uncle, and two first cousins who were not that uncle's daughters), I have been vigilant. This time I also had to be mildly adamant. The GI doctor (new to me) advised I could wait five years, which would comport with current guidelines for someone who 'only' had one precancerous polyp in 2020. I insisted and, when I explained the family history, he readily agreed on three years.

The cancer may be ensconced in my colon. If it has spread some, it won't be much. I learn my surgery date next week.

I'm optimistic because I had those six screenings. In fact, my husband tells me not to be so damn chipper. Much harder on him than on me.

I'm not going to write about this a lot. I hope in a  year or so to report that I am cancer-free. 

I'll end with what I said about screenings back in 2014. Do it. Now. 

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