Knock, Knock. . . Who's There?. . . Cancer
I have been told that each person's experience with
cancer is different. Each approach to treatment is
different. And each person's reaction to treatment is
different.
It was summer of 2001 and I was driving home from having
spent a nice weekend camping at the coast. While in the cab
of my truck I experienced a startling pain in my left
breast. I drew my right hand to the spot, testing for
tenderness to touch. It didn't feel sore as a bruise would.
But there was a lump.
By March of 2002, the lump felt more noticeable. A bit
larger and harder to the touch. The lump moved about freely;
it was not attached to anything, but I felt a deep concern,
and an inexplicable need to have a doctor look at it.
On 3-11-02, I called the doctor's office and explained I
felt I needed a mammogram as soon as possible. It had been a
year since my last mammogram so I was due. My desire to have
it done ASAP I could not explain except to say I felt deeply
compelled to make the request. Following the mammogram
several more tests were conducted.
On an April afternoon, on my way back to the office from a
home visit with a client I received a call on my cell phone.
It was my doctor. He asked me: "Are you in a good place to
hear some bad news?" I pulled over and turned the engine
off. The test results had come back positive for cancer.
My moments before, lucid world shut down. All doors closed
on what had been, in an instant. My world was suddenly a
world filled with delirium. What I said, or how I was able
to respond at all is mostly a mystery to me. I recall
thinking the sun seemed extraordinarily bright. I thought
about the people on the street around me, going about their
normal and rational activities. And how I felt cut off from
their reality. I know I spoke to my doctor while at the same
time my silently screaming self was reeling.
My mother took me to the hospital on that cold and rainy
Tuesday, the last day of April. It was dark out in the early
morning hours. I signed in and registered. I had a
mastectomy and left the hospital the next day.
My oncologist was a physician at a California Cancer Center,
and it was at the Center where I was to have my chemo
treatments. I remember dreading my first appointment--my
first treatment. My mother, may God bless her, drove me to
my first session. I walked into the Center, looked around,
saw the people in the waiting room--the patients and their
families...and fell apart.
Having been apprised of what chemo could do to a person, the
side effects, I felt a little prepared for what might happen
to me. But actually facing it...sharing that experience with
others was heartrending and spirit-buckling at the same
time.
My attitude, in the beginning, was one of defiance, anger,
and disbelief. I felt vulnerable and helpless. I felt
mortal. None of which felt comfortable.
But after a time, the feeding of those negative emotions
began to take their toll on me mentally and physically. They
were doing me no good. They only served to cripple my
functioning. Rob me of any sanity I might yet be able to
cull out of my changed life. I wanted peace and serenity
back in my life. I wanted to feel and function as normal as
I was able.
The tools to transform my existence into a satisfying
experience were within my grasp. There are timeless moments.
Many of them. And they blow about just as the wind blows
autumn leaves, or scatters words in the skirts of a breeze.
The routes of the pockets of timelessness move by no planned
course. They just are; like the wind. And they can occur
anytime. Any place. They are offered, and only by accepting
them will I live them. It is so simple, really. Savor the
brush of high emotion on the face of a dear one; allow my
spirit to be carried with the wind as it courses through the
trees; open myself to all that lives around me. On that walk
I may take in the morning one of those pockets may be within
my reach. The window of opportunity to reach out and grab
hold can be as long as only a single breath. If I hesitate,
I have lost that opportunity. I cannot say: I'm too busy now
to enjoy that. I'll wait until the next time. There will not
be a next time, for that particular moment. Each one is
special and unique. For me, I do not hesitate-I grasp like a
starving soul, at each moment.
And I have learned . . .
Each minute I draw breath something divine is happening, and
somewhere else, something harrowing. Other beings are
experiencing the most exciting moments of their lives. While
on the flip side, other beings are suffering through their
darkest hours. I will rarely be able to change or effect any
of it. I know that it is true and when I am experiencing
tough times, I recall that somewhere, someplace, the
extraordinary is happening. The sublime. I draw on that.
Picture it in my mind's eye and a peace suffuses my spirit.
Give thanks: It never hurts to do so, and it improves your
attitude, gives you a brighter perspective on your outlook
for the future.
I give thanks--thanks that God listened to my prayers and
the prayers of others, and responded. Thanks that I can
still enjoy things like I used to, with a childlike joy and
awe. Thanks that life goes on and the world still turns.
Thanks that the close friends I have now are the same ones I
had before. Either they have good judgement, or I do, or
both. It is a blessing! Thanks that though I feel more
mortal than before, at the same moment, I feel more alive.
And I respond now: To my heart, my mind, my questing spirit.
I don't let an opportunity slip past me to explore more of
the world around me. More of the splendid wonders still
waiting to be discovered.
I reach out to others who might benefit from my experience.
From my pain and my joy. I give them honesty, but do so with
compassion.
I respond to my friends and family. They still need me, as I
need them. That hasn't changed. It is what friends and
family do for each other.
I respond to my needs, be they medical, nutritional, health,
physical, mental, emotional, occupational, or financial. I
don't neglect them.
Life goes on: Lock the door, or leave it open. The world
continues on, and life in whatever form it exists in goes
on, too. I'm not going to change that. So I accept it with a
smile. It can't hurt. And I will live it, every day, for as
long as I am here.
The world around me is there for me--today. It is no
different for every person on this globe, young or old or
middle aged. This is my time and it is no less substantial
than any life lived a lifetime ago, or a century ago.
I hope I live it well, honorably, and fully.
Copyright 2003 by Kathy Anne Harris
kathyanneharris@spirit-soul.com
Four of my books have been published. They are available at
Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble.com, Borders.com, Xlibris.com,
and other online dealers. You can also order them from your
local bookstore. I also write poetry. I am a social worker
by day, a writer by life. I live in California's San Joaquin
Valley.