Cancer Lessons

 

                The subject of today’s post was brought to mind recently when a friend was diagnosed with prostate cancer.  It brought back memories of the time thirteen years ago when I received my diagnosis of aggressive prostate cancer.  I was shocked and frightened:  “This can’t be happening to me.”  I can’t help but think that this is not really too different from what many of us are feeling about the current upheaval in this country.  Perhaps there are lessons for us here. In going through the cancer process day-by-day, I learned things that fundamentally changed my life for the better.

                I used to operate on the background assumption that I had a large block of time—twenty-five to thirty years or more—ahead of me.  I was healthy and both of my parents lived to be nearly one hundred (though with the help of numerous medical interventions which I had conveniently displaced from my mind).  I could waste a year on this and six months on that and it was ok because I had lots of time left.  I no longer operate on this assumption.  I truly do not know how much time I have left.  This is a fundamental shift, and it has changed how I am willing to spend whatever hours-days-years of life I have remaining to me.

Not long after my diagnosis, I read a book by Lorne Ladner, called The Lost Art of Compassion that affected me profoundly.  He asks us:              

What constitutes a good, happy, meaningful life?  When you ask Westerners this question, some answer based on external accomplishments, such as gaining a certain amount of wealth, popularity, sensory pleasure, comfort, and social standing.  Others answer on a more deeply personal level, focusing on their relationships with family and friends and on making some significant contribution to the world.  It’s extremely rare for anyone…to answer this question psychologically.  The Buddhist response to this question is deeply psychological:  Buddhism asserts that a good, happy life is determined not by anything external but rather by the quality of our minds and hearts in each moment of life.  [Emphasis added.]

I realized instantly that what he was saying was true, and I resolved to make my future choices based on taking care of the quality of my mind and heart in each moment, moment-to-moment throughout each day.

As a result, I have become more thoughtful and conscious about how I spend my time.  Do I want to spend a few hours of my life with someone who exudes negativity, impatience and argumentativeness?  And who leaves me depleted and less optimistic about life each time I am with them?  No.  I don’t want to shun such people, but if they seem stubbornly entrenched in their negativity I try to minimize the amount of time I spend in their company.

There was some “house cleaning” that took place among my friendships, and three very old, but not satisfactory friendships ended after I made an effort to change them for the better.  One of these friendships in particular was with a person who over time had become a very negative “glass-half-empty” person.  He tended to argue and give advice rather than simply be open to understanding the person who I was.  In a very difficult conversation, he became angry when I asked for what I needed and he broke off the friendship.  It was sad and shocking that the friendship ended but also a relief and a breath of fresh air.  Cancer taught me that my time was precious and that I needed to either change such friendships or leave them.

I also began asking myself the same question about the activities I was involved in.  Did I really have a heart connection with what I was doing?  Or was I doing things because “that’s what everyone does?” or “People will think I’m weird if I make a different choice.”  Am I looking for something to do to just “fill up the hours of my day?” I started asking myself,  “How do I actually feel in this moment while engaged in this activity?”    How do I feel after the activity?  Lighter and expanded and more alive, or contracted and depleted?  

I learned that cancer, surgery, recovery from surgery, the prospect of death, and many other difficult, painful, or frightening things can be viewed as a gift, and seen as part of a very deep spiritual journey.  I leaned that none of these things have the power to prevent happiness, peace, and an appreciation for the goodness and beauty of life, for the miracle of life. 

I worked on developing the habit of opening to each new thing that happened, being willing to experience it without resistance or complaint.  When I did this, it totally transformed my experience of it. I learned also to focus on the things that I can actually do now to improve my situation and the situation of the world.  Just do the work that is in front of me to do right now:  the CT scan that I am taking, the present blood sample being given, the quality of my interactions with medical staff and other patients. Noticing how I’m feeling, my thought stream, staying present.  Noticing when I get caught up in mentally created stories about what may happen in the future and then bringing my attention back to focus on my external surroundings to ground myself and work on the small number of things that are in front of me to do right now.

These skills have been of enormous help to me in dealing with chaotic and frightening political events currently happening in the world.  Accepting the truth of what is real in this moment, and not squandering my life energy on complaining about things and saying “This shouldn’t be happening” “Why here and why now?” or “This is unfair.”  These are all a form of mental resistance to the truth.  Somewhere along the way I totally lost interest in complaining, which was formerly a very time and energy consuming “hobby” of mine. This doesn’t mean that everything now goes the way I want it to.  But unless it was a complaint to someone who could actually do something about it, I began to see that complaining was a huge waste and always left me in a contracted and negative state afterward.  

I have found that applying all this to the stress of today’s social upheaval has been more difficult than any of the things I had encountered previously.  I don’t do it perfectly, but I have found that it helps enormously when I remember to do it.

My cancer was discovered purely by luck.  I told my doctor that I had no symptoms and did not need to take the standard blood test for prostate cancer that he recommended.  He explained why it was important, but I still said no.  He said ok, but then he slipped it in with the orders for my other blood tests without telling me because he knew this was an important test. Had my cancer not been discovered until I experienced symptoms, my cancer journey would quite likely have included going through the dying process.  I am grateful for the perseverance (and sneakiness!) of a very dedicated doctor—thank you Arnoldo Padilla for saving my life. 

In fact, gratitude was one of the great lessons I learned from my experience.  Gratitude for being alive, for having recovered from cancer, for reasonably good health, for friends, my marriage to Sandy. for meaningful work to do, for a house to live in and food to eat, for my medical team…  and for being given a second chance at life (after not really valuing the miracle and fragility of life as a younger person and carelessly taking my good health for granted). 

I am grateful to have a chance to experience old age—the last part of the life cycle—and to see first-hand what that part of life is like.  I am grateful and moved by the actions of people who were really there for us during a very challenging time.  Many people, some from whom it was least expected, stepped forward to be a caring presence and do things that eased our burden during this time.  Life now seems like a miracle, a gift—and of course that’s what it always was;  I just wasn’t seeing it. 

From the very beginning (when it looked like I might have cancer), I have shared everything with friends (those who were willing).  This was hugely therapeutic and a comfort for me.  It also taught me that sharing my feelings with friends always created greater closeness for those friends who were willing to do this.

I am now fully recovered physically, but I will never be the same emotionally or spiritually, nor do I want that.  I do not ever want to go back to the way things were before, taking things for granted, assuming I have unlimited time, not fully appreciating the miracle and the gift of this life, not opening to the beauty and the gift in each turn in life’s journey.  No one ever chooses to have cancer, but we all have the ability to choose how we respond to it (and everything else) and be enlivened by it rather than crushed. We do have that choice.

 

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            If you have questions, comments, or ideas for new Blog topics please contact Dale at ahimsaacres@gmail.com.