Anxiety of the First Day

The first day was December 19, 2019, as I mentioned previously.  Up to that point, I was perhaps in denial that there was something wrong.  That summer, in an awful trip to Asia when we found ourselves alone in the middle of riots; alone in the streets with my two boys and luggage; officers in riot gear on one side, large crowds on the other; without resources.  Someone who should have been more human, put us in the middle of all of that.  I was grateful that a good friend, my "twin" Shuxian, had traveled from Malta and that we had planed to meet up on that day.  This friend and her partner helped us.  Then, another good friend, my "brother" Tep, from Thailand, traveled to meet us, and this raised my spirits.  When we got back home in Canada, my family doctor had called me for routine tests that we should have done at that point in time.  She repeated the test 3 times, then told me "I am so sorry", and referred me to a specialist.  I wasn't aware of why she was so sorry at the time, and didn't consider the comment.  A few days later, the specialist sent me for a procedure and more tests.  The appointment was set for December 2019.  He simply provided me the diagnosis in a way that reminded me of being at the mechanic to check a noise in my car's engine.  The specialist used a few words and said that he was going to refer me to hospital 1, and that was it.  Over the next couple of months, with the pandemic in full swing, I shuttled between hospitals over empty streets, until I was blessed to have landed at Princess Margaret Hospital.

I had heard and read the word "cancer" before.  It was always in the context of something terrible; something sad; something to fear; something to avoid; something that happened out there in the newspapers, online, and ticker news.  

I came back home walking the distance from the specialist clinic.  I think that I was numb.  I was transported elsewhere, and this was to become my modus operandi for the next couple of years, until I met Dr. Reichmann in February of 2022. It still took a few months to finally land back on planet Earth, see the sun, and feel the breeze by the lake.

The fear of repeating that first day is with me today as a faithful companion.  One that reminds me how blessed I am to be writing these lines today.   That I can write these lines is testament of the many people that have helped me.  Some people do it as a job to help others, such as my awesome oncology team of superheroes -the cancer avengers- at the Princess Margaret Hospital.  My boys keep my alive because they are my boys; they have learned to be compassionate.  Some people accompany me because they are friends.  Some people don't know that they are helping me, but they are, by their patience, tolerance, and perhaps by overlooking things that might I say or do.  Someone close simply decided not to help me.  Some people tried to help me, but I had to distance myself from them because the constant feeling of being dismissed was hurting me. Those people meant well, but in my experience, saying to a cancer patient something to the effect of "don't worry, everything will be fine, my friend's dad/neighbour's cousin/coworker's aunt/dog walker also had cancer and nothing happened, you have nothing to worry about and if you do, it is because you are a sissy and you are just making a fuss to get attention".  If you know someone with cancer, dear reader, please consider the effect of words to such effect.  The best thing to do, in my experience, is what my good friend from grad school, Lucy, did through 2022.  She just listened to me through the darkest times with compassion and empathy.  Her approach validated my feelings and helped me accept my situation.  Lucy just cared about me, and didn't say "everything will be fine", rather asked simple questions here and there to validate what I said, such as "so you don't want to live anymore?" or "have you eaten today?".  Over months of daily online conversations for hours, in which she gifted me the gift of her attention, I felt whole again.  Lucy is thousands of kms away and yet, helped me, as if she had been next to me.  

I feel that I owe my present life to the cancer avengers for the mechanical upgrades and maintenance, to Dr. Reichmann for helping me to relearn to breathe, to Lucy for the gift of her attention during critical moments, to my boys, and to many friends who visited me to say hello, who brought me food, who looked after my boys, who drove me to the hospital, who messaged me to let me know that I was in their thoughts and prayers, to everyone who thought about me and wished me well.  To many people who decided to pray and support me in many ways, even though perhaps we have never met in person.

Today, I was feeling anxious because my constant companion reminding me of the first day, but after writing and remembering how I am here today, I feel at peace, blessed, grateful for everyone around me, the days that I have lived, and you for supporting me by reading.