surviving cancer 101: lesson 2

80

People enjoy their food,
take pleasure in being with their families,
spend weekends working in their gardens,
delight in the doings of the neighborhood.
And even though the next country is so close
that people can hear its roosters crowing and its dogs barking,
they are content to die of old age
without ever having gone to see it.

excerpted from the Tao de Ching

2. the importance of fried chicken.

On days that I am recovering from chemo, my New Jersey husband cooks me fried chicken, fried chicken that is better than my mom's, who is a formidable southern cook.

I usually can't eat much of it that night, one piece and a few potatoes, some sliced tomatoes during summer will fill me up, but as my appetite returns, we will fight over the leftovers until they are gone. That chicken is delicious, partly because it IS delicious, but moreso because I'm touched that he wants to take the time to make it for me. Its such a sweet gesture - him in the kitchen nursing that fried chicken along the way he's had to nurse me along, the way he's there with me to read the MRI reports and CT scans because I can't. To research the details on the trials and drugs we're considering because it's difficult for me to assess objective clinical information. I'd rather not know the details, the hows and the whats. But I want him to know the hows and the whats, to tell me he thinks this is the one we should try, this looks good. Then I CAN empty my mind of expectations and wait to see what happens.

I think that fried chicken makes me think of all the things he's done for me during this time, stuff that would never have crossed our minds 5 years ago, me very independent, not needing much at all. Its a reminder of just how important home is, and the little things you take joy in. Like my wonder dog. And good books. And crossword puzzles. And fried chicken. And sliced tomatoes and the garden they came from.

surviving cancer 101: lesson 1

44

Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.

excerpted from Tao de Ching

1. the importance of a wonder dog

Find a wonder dog and give her a belly rub every day - any sort of wonder pet will do. They can work miracles, taking your mind off yourself, and letting you experience life with someone whom you love, yet doesn't know that you have cancer. They are able to look at you and love you without that tinge of sorrow.

My wonder dog is a rescue dog, and having come through quite a lot herself, she has magical properties. Though she looks a bit soulful here, she has developed over time an extraordinary capacity for joy - greeting every day, every walk, as an opportunity for a pouncing, sniffing, tail wagging extravaganza. She also follows me everywhere, content to just watch me when we're not moving. She is the most loyal being I've ever known.

Finding her was complete and total serendipity. She is the embodiment of joy, and she rejoices daily with the way things are. As such, she is a reminder for me to rejoice every day - with the way things are.

Miracles happen every day. She is a continuous reminder of that.

naming cancer

1

The tao that can be told is not the eternal Tao
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.
The unnamable is the eternally real.
Naming is the origin
of all particular things.

excerpted from the Tao te Ching by Lao Tzu
S. Mitchell translation

the relationship between tao and cancer

the tao is universal, eternal, unnameable, the source of everything, a way of living. it is a philosophy of life, a system of principles, a way of acceptance. the philosophy is eternal.

cancer is universal, going strong, named, a way of dying. it is a disease, a malignant and invasive growth, which tends to recur when you try to get rid of it, a thing we have no cure for, no power over. our understanding of it advances.

reconciling the nameless with the named

A Greek physician, Galen, noted a similarity between crabs and tumors, which are often fed by swollen veins, and the Greek word for cancer karkinos was created. This word meant crab, cancer, and the constellation. Cancer was named, and we assumed that we could then wrest power from it, the enemy.

Cancer, to me, is not a foe, an enemy. It is part of the Tao, who gives birth to both good and evil. Cancer has as much right to be a part of the world as I do. The world is full of all sorts of life forms, including parasites, who earn their livings off of others.
My doctors have tried to excise it, to irradiate it, to starve it - shrink the swollen veins that supply it. Despite their best efforts, these techniques have not been wholly successful, but they have kept me alive. 

Looking at cancer as a thing, an endpoint, something that can be picked off, removed, thrown away, has not worked. The cancer has thrived, and me, I am fortunate to have survived.

We have recently learned that I have a defect, a genetic mutation, that is allowing my cancer to take advantage, to multiply, to grow at will. I am in a clinical trial, taking a new drug that is designed to fix this mutation, restore my body to its oneness, allow it to work properly. In this way the cancer is deprived of its swollen veins, and can no longer take what it needs, at will.

Cancer is not an endpoint. It is a living organism, like me, with its own energy. The crab is losing its energy, and I am gaining mine.