The seduction of sympathy

Last Monday, I spent a few hours at the hospital preparing for my op nest week. I decided that I was going to do all I could to make it fun and easy and interesting. Before leaving the house I meditated into loving myself, loving my body and loving my life. (This is now a daily ritual) I sent love ahead of me and surrounded the hospital and filled the hands, hearts and minds of everyone on my path. I asked the Universe to bring me the most loving, caring and healing people to assist me on my journey. I treated it like a treasure hunt and playfully went from one person to the next.

Believe it or not, it was just like an adventure. I was curious and peaceful and playful. The appointments ran like clock-work and the people were really wonderful. I sensed that they thought I was a little odd or unusual, but they quickly came on board and responded like family or friends. I had blood taken, x-rays and heart tests. The anaesthetist was warm and friendly and we talked of people we knew and acted like old mates catching up. Even in the waiting room, the people were obviously in pain or had broken limbs or were worried about their situation and yet within minutes there was friendly banter all around.

There was some confusion when I spoke with the surgeon’s assistant. He was supposed to be outlining the finer points of the lumpectomy but was thrown when he looked up my details. Apparently my last biopsy report had come through and it confirmed that I now also had cancerous cells in my left breast. He seemed to be unsure or uncomfortable about telling me and when I insisted on knowing what all of this meant he said that he would need to leave the room and call the surgeon for instruction. I looked up at the wall and then the other wall – looking for a face to appear I guess. I kept saying what the hell is going on here, tell me they are wrong, make him come back and say it’s the wrong file. He’s only a junior doctor, he’s confused. Doesn’t matter how, why or what - just make this go away! No face appeared, no voice of God – just silence – the loud, screaming silence of what No sounds like when the soul cries it out.

I couldn’t comprehend what he was telling me. We went over it a number of times because I wanted to argue with him. I wanted him to paint me a picture because the words where scaring me. Somehow we arrived at 2 lumpectomies, 4 lymph node removals and radiation therapy. The surgeon had mentioned weeks ago, that if the left breast was cancerous it might require mastectomy and chemotherapy. So, I felt like the junior and I had compromised and settled for this. Somehow I felt a little better. I understood the lump; it makes sense because I can feel it. This one has to do with the calcium fragments on the mammogram. It seems to be a different kind of cancer. Junior seemed confused or unable to explain the difference. I said is the lump like a little cave containing ugly cells, and the left breast is like scattered cells running amok or like fireworks shooting around. He looked unsure, he is Asian so maybe it was the English or my fast speech that confused him. He kind of nodded but then also said that it was like a cluster – like the other lump. It wasn’t picked up with the mammogram or ultra sound as it is very deep in the tissue. He said they would need to insert a wire through the breast into the lump. Oh, that’s okay I thought, as I imagined it to be like a micro thin crochet hook going in and plucking it out. Like a toothpick stabbing an olive. No, he says. The wire is inserted to show the exact location under x-ray or mammogram I think he said. From that the surgeon then knows the exact location and will cut into the tissue to remove it. He estimates that the amount of tissue removed will be about the size of a walnut. I should end up with only minor dents in my breasts or possibly unnoticeable at all.

I checked myself, I felt fine, not too bad really, but just more than I expected. My initial panic was really denial and resistance and I took offence that I was given this additional challenge. I wanted to breeze through this process with minimal damage and a positive outcome. I have already decided that I would have cancer, overcome cancer and continue as if nothing had ever happened; nothing more than a learning experience or an experiment in overcoming adversity.

People talk about battling cancer, fighting cancer and even the war against cancer. I don’t feel like it’s any battle at all. I have an infinite supply of healthy cells and two small walnut sized clusters of untidy, dirty little street gang cells. If this was war then I have more soldiers than China coming in to fight a few school bullies. People always talk stats when they talk cancer. Research says that the number of…blah, blah, blah. Dying of cancer is statistically no different to anything else. People choke on a sandwich, slip in the shower, cut themselves and bang themselves. People can die from a bee sting, a peanut allergy or a car crashing through the bedroom. A fridge can fall on you or your hairdryer can take you out. There are probably countless millions of ways a person can die and yet nothing seems to say death like the word cancer. It’s crazy logic, but it’s in the mass consciousness. It’s only a word, a possibility, a fraction of a statistic.

The word cancer is mesmerising when you attach your own name to it. It’s like an accident that you can’t look away from. The mind wants to play out your death and the full tragedy and it’s very seductive. Many times a day, I find myself playing out the victim in my own imaginary melodrama. It really takes some discipline, but it’s so important to not allow my focus to maintain this movie. Visualization or imagination, emotionally charged, is our most powerful creative force. Even thinking about healing cancer or fighting cancer is creative. Another very seductive and dangerous thing to do is to allow yourself to be treated as special. It’s wonderful and essential to be supported and nurtured, but you must be very careful to not use disease or illness to have your emotional needs met. I have noticed a couple of times when I have almost pulled up the “I’ve just been diagnosed with cancer’ card, to avoid having to do something that I didn’t want to do. I could easily use this to gain sympathy or special treatment or kindness. My job right now is to un-create cancer - not to feed off its benefits!