Meditation

👈 This is how I was woken up today.  I had a small jackrabbit and wildcat combined jump on me, scratch my head, lick my face, bounce on my chest and tummy and generally be a pestilence and a pain for me to get up instead of letting me sleep in after having a long day yesterday!!  Then I sat in my chair, and he ricocheted off the chair back onto my lap then tried to dig a hole in my chest… they’re doing work on the roof of our building, and he can hear them walking around above his head and in the hallway and it drives him crazy.  He’s napping right now, after a busy day of barking at noises, quarrelling with my support worker for coming in today and jumping every time he heard one of the workers in the fire stairs.  I’ll definitely have to go in early tonight if this is what awaits at sunrise!!  Don’s unhappy with the heat, which makes it harder for him to breathe, but otherwise is managing.

I think that this will be a multi-part post, because there’s a lot to unpack here.  It may or may not be consecutive, depending on, well, stuff, but it will wend its way to a logical (?) conclusion.

I was watching the Mass today, broadcast from the Chapel of the Archbishop of Port of Spain in Trinidad. I like listening to the Archbishop preach, even when I don’t fully agree with him.  I’ve found that it’s a good practice to listen to differing viewpoints so that when I call someone an ignorant troglodyte it’s based on sound logic and not just recycled sound bites, but I digress.  In today’s sermon the Archbishop said that he had sometimes been privileged to accompany cancer patients, and in his view, cancer was a gift.  Now, before I get into more details on what he said and my feelings about it, I’m going to pause for “part 1” in which I explain something.  

I’ve got a visceral reaction whenever I hear someone talk about the “experience” of cancer, or when they try to use cancer patients for object lessons, or (my pet peeve) say that I should be “optimistic” at all times.  I know that cancer is hard, and scary, and all those things.  Each person who hears the words, “You have cancer,” or “We’ll have to run some tests just to screen it out,” has an initial reaction that’s pretty consistent.  There’s a white noise that pops up so you can’t really hear what’s being said, the warmth leeches out of the room and your brain begins to race so you can’t think.  The specifics of what you feel, and how you react vary, but the fear that springs into mind is almost always the same.  There are people who think that a cancer diagnosis is the worst possible of all statements and of all diagnoses.  I know some who feared every bump, bruise, mole or mark that they found was a sign of impending cancer, and some who forced retest after retest, citing anecdotal evidence of people who claim that’s how to stay safe.

In my case, I had no risk factors, but I still wound up with cancer.  I had no warning signs, no indication of any problems until suddenly there was a huge tumour wrapped around my kidney — I’m still a little resentful about that, although it doesn’t govern my daily life.  One friend was sceptical of my saying that I had no symptoms until her own diagnosis a few years later, when she told me that and apologized for thinking that I had been careless in monitoring my health.   Last year, the ONLY indicator of a problem was persistent, increasing back pain, and that led to the discovery of a spinal column tumour.  I know, all too well, the dread that clutches your heart as each test approaches, and each result is given until I’m told that we don’t need to do treatment just now… and I’ve had many visits where I dreaded seeing my doctor in fear of getting shattering news.  It’s stressful, and the cycle isn’t easy to break.  Obviously, I still have issues and emotional pain when I talk about this, and I try to avoid triggers.  So when I heard the Archbishop say, “Cancer is a gift,” I had to pause the video for a moment while I processed the feelings that rose up in me and clamoured to turn him off or fast forward through the sermon.  I’m happy that I did neither, as he went in a direction that I didn’t fully expect, and which gave rise to me thinking many thoughts today, enough that I think that there will be 2, possibly 3 posts on this.

For tonight, though, the take away is that:

• Cancer is scary, and no matter how urbane, chill or ‘basic’ you are, it takes a while to handle a conversation about it.
• You will sometimes hear things with which you disagree strongly
• It’s usually a good idea to listen fully before reacting.

Tomorrow we’ll talk about what was said, and begin dissecting my feelings and thoughts.  Meanwhile, I’m going to try sneaking off to bed before I’m used as a trampoline by the mini monster!  Good night all.