The t-shirt continues, "...Unless you multiply yourself by the speeed of light twice. Then, you energy."
But whether you are in a state of matter or energy, You Are Significant.
So far, it's my first Big Cancer Lesson.
Because in my experience, nobody feels that significant.
At least, not in the way you always wanted. Because you were told to want to be Extraordinary. If all the children are above average, then above average won't cut it in or out of Lake Woebegone. You need to stand out in a way that requires decades of self-shredding, fatigue and digging deep into work, past your broken heart and ragged spirit or tossing yourself into the pit of impossible debt. Then-or maybe then-you will be worthy of the rewards you've been trained to chase, to earn, to kill yourself for. Because in a world of Above Average, you, just plain you without the gruelling years of work or the hundreds of workouts and skipped calories or letters after your name, simply don't matter much. Or so the world needs you to believe.
We were raised on those values, like YouCanNeverWorkHARRRRDENOUGH.
I embraced those values to the point of near self-destruction at times. Migraine making it hard to see? Drive to work anyway, work anyway while throwing up in the trash can, do not be a "whiner".
I admit that the Covid19 quarantines at first seemed like something that was just happening to other people. I was focused on getting to radiation and home again, and on taking my chemo correctly and staying as healthy as possible.
But looking out the window (well, at my friend's feeds) it occurs to me that my recent lesson is also popping up in the zeitgeist.
Because without all the hustle to be extraordinary, who are you? What are you worth?
And what if you, stripped of your abilities or achievements or merits, at your most helpless and vulnerable and messy and damaged and doomed and pathetic, what if YOU- in THAT state- are LOVED?
For me, brain cancer was the fast track to that revelation: that I matter, because I'm loved.
My initial thoughts were, "Game Over. Numbers are not on my side. And anyway, I'm old, my value on the job market is practially zero and it won't get better as I get older. I should pretty much just crawl under the porch."
These were my thoughts because I did not have all the information, and because I have allowed myself to be brainwashed by our culture of commerce system of values. I had many thoughts of a quick exit at first, right after the surgery. The armies of bureaucrats marching through ICU when my brain was still bleeding were profoundly dehumanizing to me. I was barely able to keep up with who everyone was and what they all wanted from me (one actually said, "So, you just need a few boxes ticked off!"as if she was talking to a form). It's also dehumanizing to have your skull cracked open. I felt like a thing. A thing that was now useless, that would cost people a LOT of money, money I could never in the rest of my life make. I wasn't sure I could handle the paperwork either. I've never been good at that, and the idea that I'd be buried in it until I finally died with an excruciating headache (I've already had my share, in 30+ years of searing migraines, and worked through them, thanks very much) had me waking up every morning with a plan for a quick exit that would have trumatized other people, and would have been a missed opportunity not just for my life, but for the people in my life who love me.
My amazing friend JD, who was ready to champion me in the ICU and who stayed with us for a month babysitting my very soul, patiently repeated the words many times: "We love you." It was echoed many, many times by Jim, who is not stingy with love. It pours out of him, not just over me but also all over the dogs and the kitten and into other people's lives. People LOVE Jim. His kindness and warmth are well known to everyone who's worked with him. He's a loving soul with a kind heart.
Dense as I am, the message began to get through: The reason to not crawl under the porch is because it would break the hearts of people who love me.
Another very useful reason is that I rolled a D20 on a certain gene marker , which indicates that I will do very well with the chemo, well enough that the pathology report actually stated the words, "Improved prognosis.". Also, I have very good health for a baseline. No diabetes or heart disease, etc, which also improves my chances of....the word even came up last week with the oncologist....SURVIVAL...
"That's right," said my dear friend JD, her eyes sparkling, "We all want you to score a touchdown."
Radiation and chemo, working together, started last week.
People who love me and showed me over and over with patience and compassion and determination that LOVE is the reason to stay and the reason to keep my feet moving, even in the hole.
I've never been a fast learner, but I'm starting to grasp one lesson from cancer: if there's any reason for anything, LOVE IS IT.
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