After the first shock of her diagnosis of colon cancer abated, my sister entered a routine of feeling and acting that she called the "new normal." The new normal — or "cancer world" — involved visits to doctors, invasive tests, surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, emergency hospitalizations, cancer support groups, etc. It was a world opposite to the one she had previously inhabited, where she used to go to the gym regularly to lift weights and agonized over whether to take one or two ibuprofens to relieve her occasional headache. And it was a world that completely engulfed her; there was no chance she could return to the old normal.  Her only choice was how she would deal with it.

As I talk to my friends and family about the state of our world today and our economic crisis, I increasingly feel that we are in a new normal. We will never return to the old normal of ever-increasing home prices, gas-guzzling SUVs, and shops solely dedicated to selling pink clothing for children. And our only choice right now is how we deal with it.

As with a cancer diagnosis, there are some people who are in denial. There are others who are looking for "the cure" that will bring them back as individuals to the way things were. And then there are those who understand the diagnosis, yet are hopeful we can come out the other end stronger and wiser.

Initially realistic
In the year and a half between my sister's diagnosis and her death, I felt alternately admiration and despair for the way she and her husband handled the situation. Initially she seemed to be totally realistic — hopeful but understanding that her remaining time might be short and that she had to make the most of it. But as the treatments became increasingly onerous and less effective, she began to dwell on the belief that there was a magic bullet out there that would buy her time until a "cure" was found.

One of the things I dislike about the cancer world is the prevailing sentiment in the support community that you must always be hopeful, because pessimism is destructive to your health. But the unrealistic focus on a cure can rob you of the ability to enjoy the remaining time you have with your friends and family, to spend your life wisely.

I look around at how my friends are reacting to the financial crisis. Those in denial are going about their business as usual, making rosy projections about the market bouncing back, buying new low-mileage cars or knocking out walls between high-priced condos. (Maybe they are the lucky few who for some reason or another are financially unaffected.  After all, there are always real people who represent the 5 percent who survive the diagnosis of pancreatic cancer.) But somehow I think most of these people, for some reason, have no ability to adapt to the new world, and can only live their lives as they always have. 

Some depressed, others adjusting
Then there are those who are so depressed that they are having a hard time functioning and want to give up. And finally, there are those — and I think most of my friends are in this category — who are adjusting their lives to the "new normal" and are soldiering on.  They are going out to eat less, and at less expensive restaurants, delaying the purchase of cars and switching to cars that have better gas mileage. They are recycling and bringing cloth bags to the grocery store and, in general, they are shopping less and working as hard and as smart as they can.

This is the "new normal" for us. We are not going back to either our profligate spending ways or our soaring rates of return on investments. And I hope, after our dose of "chemotherapy" — the plummeting job and stock markets — we will come out of this stronger and wiser.

Barbara Scoll, of Edina, is a retired social worker.