Part of the “This is the Moment” series
1. Looking at your face close up in a mirror, like when you’re putting on makeup, you expect to see something in your eyes, or maybe a change in your skin, but really all you see is the unadulterated, adulterated you. The eyes that look back are knowing. And that makes you feel estranged from yourself, and maybe also sad.
2. You are as fetching and as fully You as you were on any preceding day.
3. Remember that no one else can tell. Cancer has no smell (to humans), no sound. Cancer is part of the person you’ve always been.
4. Your life HAS changed its track. Your relationship with time, your lifespan, is no longer conceptual—not just something “out there” that eventually runs out on everyone. Your horizon is different than everyone else’s (or at least, that’s how you feel, because you know nothing of most other people’s lives but you’ve just learned a lot more about your own). You think of them as looking far ahead, believing, as they should, that they will not die of the cancer that multiplies inside you, but of something else. They believe they’ll be spared, and why not? You did. You hoped. But cancer has torn a whole bunch of pages off your life’s calendar, and you don’t know how many years, or months or even days…
5. You shouldn’t hide your illness from the world. Cancer, like most profoundly life-altering experiences—losing your job, separating or divorcing, the death of a child, parent, spouse, or friend—is an extraordinary filter. You fear the effects of sharing, and you’re wrong. Your suffering is meaningful not just to yourself, but to others. Cancer gives those who love you, who care about you, who just simply like you—even strangers whose empathy response cannot be helped—an opportunity to show love, to give reassurance, to nurture, to feel close to you, to feel the most truthful emotions of life: fear, sadness, insecurity, vulnerability, need, gratitude, intimacy, loneliness and most of all connection.
6. Don’t walk around feeling sick because you’ve learned that you’re sick. You’ve likely been this way for a while (in my case, probably for years). Shake off this self-conditioning. Remember the insane, hectic, busy, active life you led just weeks ago? Well, you’re the same person who did all that. You have lots of vital energy and if you’re not in any kind of significant pain or distress, then the only thing that has changed is your awareness.
7. Don’t deny a single feeling you might have. I’m pretty sure that will only hurt more, and I’m convinced that each is appropriate. You’ll find yourself ambushed by sadness especially—a tight throat full of tears and pain that catches you in a manner that seems random, but which is often linked to flashes of true insight. Like when you hear people speak of travel plans and sense that this may now be forever beyond your reach; or when a discussion’s taking place about which quality of paint to use in the bedrooms of your new house and you realize that you will perhaps be gone long before the paint loses its glow, so who cares, and what does it matter? ; or when at day’s end, or maybe in the quiet of the house in the morning before anyone has awoken, you live intensely alone with the painful knowledge of your cancer, and resist it just a split second, wanting to disappear into the magical thinking that could make the fearful, difficult future go away and turn everything back to what it was.
8. Train your mind to smile, precisely at such moments. Train your mouth to turn its corners up. Think warm thoughts. Think about gratitude. Think about everything, everyone you have NOW.