Inviting The Unexpected In For Tea

What if I didn't think cancer was a problem? 

What if I wasn't “fighting cancer” or “being a cancer survivor” or “battling cancer”?

Now I don't have cancer (as far as I know) but several people in my life do. Two people I deeply respect and care about recently got the news that they have cancer and their response to the news changed my life and my story about cancer forever. 

When one of them told me we were face to face. She knows full well my history with cancer and she wanted to be delicate because of my situation (Can you imagine the beauty and decency of someone just diagnosed with cancer being delicate with me? Sensitive to my sensitivity- that’s a class act. I was humbled). When she said the words, “they found a cancerous mass” it felt like I was being gut punched. In an instant every moment of sadness and loss I experienced came up at once and quickly gave way to anger, resentment and futility. 

As she continued with the prognosis; what she knows, how she feels, I listened with compassion but one questions kept circling through my mind, “Why is this in my life again?” 

It wasn’t that long ago that a strong, responsible, courageous woman (healthy by every estimation) was diagnosed with cancer. This woman was my best friend and she just so happened to also be my mom. 

Flashing back forward, when my friend turned to me, wrapping up her gentle delivery of news, I asked if there was anything I can do for her, if there was anything she wanted or needed. She simply requested, “Just be someone I can talk to and listen to me.” So simple, so lovely. It was the least I can do. 

Then I asked, “How would you like me to listen to you?” She knew what I meant and she replied, “I will let you know how I want you to listen to me but at this time all I want is your friendship and understanding.” 

I said, “Done. It’s yours, only always and forever.”  

Then I told her I had something to say and I relayed my experience to her, “I’m sad, I’m pissed, I feel helpless and yet I feel a level of excitement because I think I get to have the experience with you I wish I had had with my mom.” 

Later she asked me what I meant by that and I explained, “I held back my feelings with my mom. I didn’t tell her how scared I was and how much I wanted her around. I thought I could only tell her happy things because I thought at the time that everything else was negative and would only bring her down.” 

To which she replied and her response change my story forever. “Tell me everything. This isn’t a problem; this is just the next thing on my to-do list. I am completely confident I will handle this all very well and be a shining example to others that go through this experience. This is an opportunity to see what cancer is like with consciousness. This is your opportunity to be with cancer consciously. Put all our work into action. We may not have control over cancer but we have complete control over our attitude.” 

It had me think; what if cancer wasn’t a problem but an opportunity? I used to think cancer sucked. I was angry about cancer; I saw it as the enemy. Yet no matter how much I fought cancer, it’s still here, pervasive in the lives of people I love. 

Who would I be if I welcomed it into my life like I do every other unexpected event that pops up in my day? I don’t get angry when someone calls me out of the blue and I have other plans. I don’t lose my mind when I think I am going to be able to see a friend and she has to cancel at the last minute. I don’t feel futile when I call someone for an appointment and they don’t pick up. In fact as I am thinking about it nothing in life ever really goes exactly as I had planned. I handle each of these events as neutral; it’s just what happens. I don’t resist it or fight it. I am not a missed-appointment survivor or battling last minute cancellations; I am just some chick living in a world full of unexpected opportunities. 

Each unexpected event is another test of character, another opportunity to demonstrate the strength of spirit. 

As I pondered this idea, I reflected on my experience with my mom and smiled. My mom’s spirit and character were present with her until the very end. She had a cute lamb pillow that she carried with her everywhere she went. She called it “Lamby-kins” and she always said it in the cutest voice with a smile on her lips. She expressed her opinion, strongly, emphatically, and lovingly when ever possible.  

A memory of her that always tugs at my heartstrings was when she was very ill right before Christmas. She was sick from chemo treatments and at 7pm on Christmas Eve she looked at me and said, “We have to go Christmas shopping.” I told her what time it was; all the stores are closed by now. She opened her eyes wide, “Every store? “  To which I conceded, “Ok, probably not every store.” She grinned and said, “Good, lets go.” 

I drove my barely mobile mom around until we found the only open store where she bought hot coco kits to put in our stockings.  She wouldn’t let a moment go by where she wasn’t giving, no matter how sick she felt. 

I am sad I didn’t tell her how I felt about her then. I thought how I felt was a problem, I thought her having cancer was problem. She didn’t see it that way, but I didn’t see that until now. She handled it with dignity and grace; like she handled everything, it was just the next thing on her list. 

So here is my opportunity to be there for two people I love and welcome their experience. There is no problem, nothing to fight, and nothing to survive. If what we resist persists then I am choosing to experience this with loving, open acceptance.  Not I, or anyone I know did something to deserve this; it is not a punishment, this is just another unexpected to-do item giving us all the opportunity to respond with the best of us. I’m in. 

Here is the end of a story by Pema Chodron about a Buddhist Monk named Milarepa who went to live on his own in the mountain to fight his demons. 

“One evening Milarepa returned to his cave after gathering firewood, only to find it filled with his demons. They were cooking his food, reading his books, and sleeping in his bed. They had taken over the joint. He knew about non-duality of self and other, but he still didn’t quite know how to get these guys out of his cave. Even though he had the sense that they were just a projection of his own mind—all the unwanted parts of himself—he didn’t know how to get rid of them. So first he taught them the dharma. He sat on this seat that was higher than they were and said things to them about how we are all one. He talked about compassion and shunyata and how poison is medicine. Nothing happened. The demons were still there. Then he lost his patience and got angry and ran at them. They just laughed at him. Finally, he gave up and just sat down on the floor, saying, “I’m not going away and it looks like you’re not either, so let’s just live here together.” At that point, all of them left except one. Milarepa said, “Oh, this one is particularly vicious.” (We all know that one. Sometimes we have lots of them like that. Sometimes we feel that’s all we’ve got.) He didn’t know what to do, so he surrendered himself even further. He walked over and put himself right into the mouth of the demon and said, “Just eat me up if you want to.” Then that demon left too.” 

I’m done fighting you Cancer. It only makes you stronger and stick around longer. Ok, Cancer, come on in, sit down, have some tea and a danish, let us live here together because the best of me isn’t going anywhere.