I regretted asking the moment the doctor responded. Until today, I had never inquired about my official diagnosis. Did it not matter to me because I’m focused on the work to get better, or did I simply not want to know? ‘It’s stage four,’ she said. She didn’t have to finish with an extended explanation and we both knew it. My stomach dropped as her words instantly filled the hollow in my gut. Though I knew this to be true, it had been tucked away in a no-access zone, hidden out of sight and out of mind.
My coping mechanism oscillates between faith and denial, with only a thin veil separating the two. I’m learning that adversity is an invitation to awaken to my response to life. Struggles only arise when I compare myself to my past self or when I’m overwhelmed by what might happen to me in the future. Both tendencies make me miss what’s possible now.
I was fine until I asked. I even impressed myself with my ability to detect the early stage of another staph infection, which was the reason I was sitting in the doctor’s office in the first place. Instead of being upset about another recurrence only a couple of weeks after the last, I chose to be grateful that I caught it early this time instead of landing in the ER again. Instead of resisting another round of antibiotics, I accepted what needed to be done given the circumstance. I showed her my breast, and she noted how much better it looked, confirming how I felt. But everything changed when I was put into a category.
The power of two words spoken aloud by someone else instantly created a different reality. It contradicted the feedback from my body, which suggested that despite the expected side effects, the treatment is working. I recognized my visceral reaction, which prompted a sudden shift in my state. The chill that ran through me seemed to extend into the future, yet it felt like just one of many potential versions, too elusive to keep me in a state of panic. My wise friend reminded me that a diagnosis is not a prognosis. With this reassurance, I return to the baseline of what I know to be true in this moment, focusing on all that is well within me rather than fearing what could go wrong.
I continue to meet myself as life unfolds before me. Today, I was granted the grace to observe my reaction and respond in a manner that felt more authentic than succumbing to the abyss of ‘what ifs.’ I became aware that I attributed meaning to those words based on conditioning that was not mine and not based on where I’m at now. There is no future, only now and now and now.
With the residue of Doc’s words still echoing in my mind, I drove home, recognizing the weight inside me. I allowed myself the catharsis of tears to release it. Seeking solace in the forest, I clung onto a sturdy tree. Shinrin-Yoku, the Japanese practice of forest bathing, has continually brought me home to myself. Amidst the trees, I felt the cleansing stillness wash away what was not serving me. Anchored in the solid embrace of a cedar, I calibrated to its unwavering presence. My senses opened to the palpable calm around me as I slowly exhaled.
I asked myself: ‘What is true in this very moment?’ The answer came with ease: ‘I’m safe, I’m okay, I am not in imminent danger.’ Such certainty is only available in present tense.
I’m aware that my grievances stem from reaching towards life without cancer, from being free from interruptions of symptoms, and from having limitations. Yet, my quest for purpose is unfolding in the present. This is my purpose—to find a way to meet myself as I am and find ease in the midst. There is always a choice to accept or resist. The gift lies in having a choice, even when it may not feel readily available. It’s okay to shake and shudder until the moment leads to something else. It always does.
Each moment serves as a meeting place for the full gradation of possibilities of how I can engage with my life. It’s a beautiful life, filled with the diverse shades of the human experience. To be asleep to it, lost in denial, is to miss the essence of my purpose. This, perhaps, is the most profound lesson showing me the way to liberation in any given moment. .
LESSONS FROM MY LUMP 