Dear Cancer…
It’s the early morning again and I awoke because I could feel you in my breast. There is some pain there and I keep wondering why you seem to be growing so quickly. I begin to internally examine my body and wonder what else is going on. What other sharp pain or twinge might be trying to tell me something.
I gently cup my breast to confirm you are still there, you are. I am not sure if I am supposed to nurture you or angrily tell you to leave. I can’t understand why you are here and why you so prominently want to make yourself known.
One of the things I was taught when I started my training with energy work was don’t try to understand it. Well, I want to understand you. I want to understand why you showed up. Why you are disrupting my life and the life of the people around me? But I know I won’t get that answer, not now, at least.
It is the night before I start chemo and the unknown is setting in again. I am scared. What is going to happen to my body? In my quest to remove you, I sacrifice my body to you. All I knew about my body will be stripped away. I know it won’t be mine, and perhaps it never was. I thought I knew, but honestly I don’t.
You are puzzling to my doctors because I am not the normal statistic. But hell, what is normal anyways. Everything about my body, my lifestyle doesn’t add up to this - and low and behold, here you are.
My spiritual practice is being tested in every way. Is this another part of my awakening? And what the heck is an awakening anyways? I have so many questions for you.
For now, to ease myself, I imagine being carried and held in a warm hug, a warm light of protection and safety, and it brings me comfort for a bit. I look around my room and notice the objects in it and where they are placed. I see my dog lying sprawled out on his back at the foot of my bed, his front paws gently curled and his back paws extended long, and it makes me smile. He knows something is up because he has been staying extra close to me as of late.
I can feel the weight of the computer on my lap, hear my fingers typing on the keys and the big box fan gently blowing on me. The noise brings me comfort and a nostalgia to when I was a kid and grew up without air conditioning. I think of that kid, the 7 or 8 year old, and wonder how she would react to all of this. I wonder if there could have been any prediction of this happening.
The answers will come, I hear something whisper when I close my eyes to yawn. I feel my eyes starting to get heavy again and try to set aside the small pit in my stomach. Go to sleep, the voice says again, get some rest. It will be okay, I promise. I have you in the palm of my hand. So with that, it must be my cue to end this rambling.
Now, reread this letter with the inscription: ’Dear God.’
Sincerely Yours.
Kim
