A Sliver of Light
It’s not until the morning of my ultrasound that I think about it. It doesn’t cross my mind all year long, not for one second, until my appointment every October. Then a wave of fear flashes in my mind single day. “What if it’s back?” What if something changed?” What if I’ll need surgery?”
After 24 years of being monitored, it seems to get harder as the years go on. I was diagnosed with Thyroid cancer when I was 27 years old. That’s young and it really messed up the end of my twenties when I was just starting to figure out who I was and step into that. In the 24 years since my original surgery and treatment, I’ve had it come back twice. Or more likely have had the cancer grow to a point that it was detectable in my neck.
I actually think the reoccurrence of cancer and subsequent surgeries traumatized me more than the original diagnosis. Because I think in my mind, after the first bout with cancer, I thought I was healed. I really thought God had spared me because I had made a deal with Him, if he spares me and I get my health back, then I live my life for others.
That wasn’t the case. I felt as though my faith had failed me or I failed God. What I have learned since then is that shit happens in life. Regardless of your faith, regardless if you are a good person, regardless of how much you try to control it, regardless of how much you pray, no one is spared from pain or tragedy. Anyone that tells you otherwise or any faith that claims you are immune from life’s pain, is selling something.
It might actually be a spiritual discipline on how you move through painful experiences.
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” ~ Elisabeth Kubler-Ross
The morning of my ultrasound this year I decided to try a different path because last year I had a complete meltdown. The test isn’t that long but there is a spot on my right side of my neck that they spend 75% of the test measuring. It is nerve-racking. Maybe it’s because they found something new, maybe it’s just lymph nodes or maybe those lymph nodes are growing because they have thyroid cancer. You just lay there and wonder. If you’re me, you wonder towards the worst possible scenario.
It got to me last year and I softly wept through the entire test. My technician obviously noticed and asked the radiologist to read it right away. They gave me results on the spot which was so merciful and compassionate. You never know what a difference you can make to calm someone’s mind by a simple act of kindness. My test turned out fine with no new growths and no changes.
This year, because it’s 2020, I thought briefly, yeah this would be the year for my cancer to make a comeback. I quelled that thought immediately. Because even though it’s 2020, I still have seen some amazing things happen. I started early in the morning with a mantra of, “I trust my body” and “I am strong and healthy.” I said it over and over.
I continued to say it to myself as I laid on the table during the test as the technician spent a lot of time on my right side measuring. I felt the anxiety, repeated my mantra and told myself I could get through whatever the results were.
I had results from my doctor by the time I got home. “Unremarkable. Excellent report.” Which means everything stayed stable with no new growths. I felt relieved. Do I think I had a good report because of my mantra? No. Did I feel empowered to face what was coming by speaking truth to myself? Yes.
There was a definite difference between last year and this year and it was my attitude. Was I going to be consumed with fear? Or would I trust myself to go through hard things? I chose the latter. Glennon Doyle always says, “We can do hard things.” We can also trust ourselves. We can. I can.
And that made me think of the year of our Lord 2020. It’s taken a lot from us – employment, loved ones, entertainment, health, normalcy, sanity. At some point I wondered if I was just letting 2020 take everything, including my sense of self. What am I doing to take back my power?
Let me point out what I said earlier. When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I bartered with God, If He would heal me then I would serve the poor and somehow make my life meaningful. I would give that sacrifice. God didn’t hold up His end of the bargain. I’m pretty sure He didn’t know He made a deal with me. When I had a reoccurrence, I realized there never really was a deal. There wasn’t a magic pill for healing. I would struggle with Thyroid cancer for the rest of my life. But in the midst of that struggle and pain, I could still serve others. And that was lifegiving. There was beauty in the struggle.
This is why I continue to work with Palestinian refugees, not because of some deal I made with God to heal me. I have found healing and purpose in using my rights, privilege, and talents to fight for the rights of others. I have found life (like in the fullest) when I serve others the world discards – the poor, the refugee, the homeless, the marginalized. I found we are all interconnected in our weakness and strength. I am not free until ALL are free.
Life loses meaning when we stay small and stay in our fear. When we stay in ourselves.
This is why I don’t give up in 2020 when things look the bleakest. There is joy by letting mercy and compassion for the other be my guide. I can choose this. I can do this in my pain. I can do this in my confusion. I can do this in my limitations. I still can serve Palestinian refugees with cancer growing in my body. I can still do this in a pandemic stuck in the U.S. during a tumultuous election season.
We can still hope to make a difference in this world even in 2020, even when the odds are stacked against us, even in our problems and pain. We can shine a sliver of light into the darkness of 2020, together by going through our own pain and serving others.
It’s our healing.