April 21, 2009

Amy & I were having a conversation last night about my cancer. For those who don’t know, I have one more chemo treatment tomorrow and then I take some CT scans. I am fully expecting those scans to come back 100% clean and be able to put this foe fully behind me for good.

For readers who’ve had cancer, I don’t need to describe what the anxiety of upcoming scans can feel like inside. The closer you get to a scheduled scan, the more you worry about what the result will be. It’s like you’re waiting on death row, hoping the governor will call with your pardon in time and wondering if there might be something wrong with the phone lines.

As I searched for an explanation to help Amy understand what it’s like to be me, after 9 years and 5 bouts with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, I suddenly formed a mental picture that captured my feelings perfectly. I said, “It’s like there’s a giant rock in my way to the future. I’ve pushed it, pried at it, pulled it, tugged it, shoved it and rammed it. But after all of my efforts to move this monstrous rock, I simply remain seated in its shadow, a little more defeated after each try.

But something wonderful happened from doing this descriptive exercise. Amy helped me form a different opinion of the “giant rock.” Maybe I could picture myself hugging the rock? Or sitting on top of it reading a book.? Or just enjoying its shade on a hot summer’s day? And then, when I’ve made my peace with the rock, simply walk the other way, leaving its memory behind me.

I was so excited about this simple concept, especially since I’ve known my thoughts to be more oriented to pictures than words or concepts. And so I started releasing my anxiety while picturing myself becoming friends with this old rock. Spending simple time in its presence. And the more I pictured these scenes, the more the rock changed forms in my mind. It went from a foreboding, solid blockage to my future path/plans, to a majestic icon to be proud of owning.

In my picture, Mother Nature has humbled the rock, humanizing it in some strange sense. There is a large passageway worn in its foundation. Through this portal many people have passed on their way to enlightenment. Many more will follow. And through it all, the rock stands as a sentry to guide us on our paths.

There is a tiny forest growing on top of the rock. As I picture myself on the edge of this tiny forest, I am sitting atop the giant rock, reading a good book, watching the small songbirds fluttering in & out of the branches.

Alongside my cancer rock are other, older rocks. These rocks stand, with their majesty dwindled by time and weather. They are symbols to all, that even the mightiest of obstacles are finite.

From my seat near the tiny forest, I breathe in the sweet aroma of evergreens. I am deeply proud of my rock.