Monday, June 11, 2012
Life in the Cancer Lane
In the way of things, I have buried myself beneath the covers, amassed great books to read, like Be A Miracle, The Amateur, and The Harbinger.each keep me stepping, but not fast enough. Having felt really well after chemo, it is only that I didn't know the pace of the drill. the weekend was a wipe and by late afternoon today I am recovering from the flu-like misery that is the horned child of those chemicals that seek out any residual calls I might be harboring. Suffering is not becoming. It hurts. But I feel hungry so maybe I have passed this week's glitch. I have discovered I am held in the arms of incredible people who have taken me to their hearts, wrapped me in their arms and have stormed heaven with prayers for me. Humbling in the extreme, but I din't wish to blow it off as trite and unimportant. If you know my history, I am the product of unloved and unwanted, so this level of concern for my health and my recovery are way outside anything i have ever experienced. I marvel and pinch myself and what has happened is that I have had to see myself as these many see me: strong. Unbroken. Able. Winning. I'm trying to recognize myself within their framework of recognition of who they perceive me to be. It is permeating my chemo team, too, for they barely know me but have determined that i am up to this trial, able to stand straight within the blast of poisonous wind, to prevail. I pay attention, and closely, to the bald statement from my doctor that my body is free of cancer, that what we are doing is insurance against recurrence. A believer triumphs. So I march forward, bearing up, facing the day, demanding of my body the mundane: eat properly, eliminate, rest, meditate, laugh at the ridiculous, refuse the negative voice, keep a positive attitude for there is great reason to remain so. I am learning material I had no desire to know. But I stay focused where I do know treasure is: the cardinals on the deck, the gold finches in the trees, the thrush that sings to the morning sun, wakens me to the day and reminds me that along with them I am God's creature with her own voice, her own song, her own purpose. I am not my cancer. I am the same woman I was a year ago, or a month ago or a week ago. Life happens.what I do with my life defines me in the world. It is a gift to know who I have been in the eyes of my friends. In the world in which I function, I am a wife and mother, a grandmother, a good friend to many, a writer, an encourager, and with this part of my journey, one who will share the experience. I know myself to be blessed and cherished. Those are pacer bricks on a difficult road. The road is crowded and perilous. But I walk it held close on the path by these, my ardent supporters. Life in this lane requires my attention, but it is not all my life is about.