A Splash of Cold Water

Every now and then my past rushes forward to splash cold water in my face and set my feet once again on solid ground. This happened to me last night, and surprisingly I was unprepared for it – I shouldn’t have been, but other things had taken the forefront in my mind lately, and I simply wasn’t thinking!

I met my friend, Vicki, at the American Cancer Society Relay for Life Kick-Off event in Monroe last night for dinner. As I drove from my home in Social Circle the ten miles to Monroe, my mind was on seeing her and being with other people for a little while. I’ve been working my way through a period of cabin fever and thumb twiddling at home the past few weeks. The garden is finished for the season, the weather has been nasty and rainy a good bit of the time, Phil has been sick with a vicious sinus infection, and I’ve been plagued with a bad case of poison ivy. All of this, along with the job market to seemingly dry up even more in my areas of experience, has had me in its grip. I haven’t sent out a resume for a potential job in over a month, and the little free-lance job I am doing from home isn’t yet reaping any rewards. I’ve been sitting on an over-sized pity potty, wishing my life could be different.

Last night over dinner, I updated Vicki on my job situation, and pretty much dumped on her. We hadn’t talked in quite awhile, so we took full advantage of dinner time to catch up on each other’s news and give the CliffNotes version on what’s going on in our lives. It was after dinner, when the program began, that I got my slap in the face.

The main part of the kick-off program was offered from cancer survivors. Four people got up in front of the audience to tell their story, either of facing cancer themselves or of being a care-giver for a cancer victim. As I listened to the stories being told with emotion, gratitude, faith, fear, and courage, I was taken back almost nine years ago to the day I received the phone call from my surgeon, telling me in as gentle a way as she could, that I had cancer. The small lump was no longer merely suspicious, but was a potential killer. Each of their stories was unique and individual, yet each was also my story. As I listened and connected with them, all of my current problems melted away. I had the horrible disease, defeated it, and it changed me forever- physically, but more importantly spiritually. I am a cancer victim, survivor, and thriver. One of the speakers also spoke of being a thriver. I remember using the term several years ago while delivering a key-note speech to a group of nurses. While my current situation of being unemployed isn’t fun, and isn’t where I’d like to be, I realized last night that I am still a thriver, and I continue to be cancer-free, at least for today. I wake up every morning to a brand new sunrise, move through my day as a healthy woman, and look forward to each tomorrow.

At the end of the meeting, all cancer survivors were asked to stand, and the audience applauded. I briefly stood along with several others, shaking off the uneasy feelings I had about having a spotlight on me. I’m not special because I’ve had cancer. I’m not special because I beat it. I’m not special because I wear a “Survivor” t-shirt at Relay for Life. What makes me special is what cancer did for me. It changed my life. It gave me a new vision of my world and a deep spiritual sense of God’s presence in his creation.

I had let the pity potty overshadow this for awhile. This morning I am off the pot, and watching for the sunrise.