Linda
This is the last month in the year-long journey I’ve walked with cancer. I’ve endured the whole enchilada: the hard chemos, the surgeries, the radiation, and, now, the second round of chemo. I also finally started my hormone inhibitors, minimizing the chance of any cancer recurring and consequently maximizing my chance of living a long life.
So, what’s the chance of this happening? I can count on a five-year survival rate in the mid-80th percentile or, conversely, a non-survival rate of about 15%. On the surface, it looks good. The odds are in my favour. The reality is this: one in eight women in North America will be diagnosed with breast cancer. 87.5% won’t get it, 12.5% will. These are the facts. I drew the short straw and belong to the latter group. Though I could have had a complete response after the first round of chemo (over 65% of patients in my position do), I didn’t and again I belong to the minority. This is kind of funny because I’m of a minority ethnicity in Canada. It occurs to me that I’m quite comfortable being in the minority. I digress, though!
I’m not really a pessimist and I don’t consider myself particularly unlucky. It’s just that, when it comes to cancer, I’ve learned to accept complete surprises. I don’t take life for granted anymore. That is the first and most important lesson I learned during the past year.
Will I be alive in five years or not? I don’t know, but realistically, neither does anyone. Do I need to be reassured that I will survive cancer? My answer may surprise you: “No, I don’t.” It’s not because I don’t value my life. On the contrary, I like living very much. By the way, it’s funny that the Swedish word “tvärtom” (on the contrary) came forward into my brain just now. Why? Probably because it’s so much more efficient with just one word replacing three. Anyhow, I digress again.
My second lesson learned is this: it’s not how long we live but how well we live. However short or long our time on earth is, fulfillment comes not from duration but significance. I have been given more life during this year than any other. Because I was made conscious of it. With the lived wisdom of a fleeting life, I appreciated the world and the people and all things in it that much more.
Håkan just joined me at my table and I asked him what he learned himself:
Håkan
That life is so precious. And that nothing can ever be taken for granted. This is a hard lesson because we really, really want our lives to be rooted in certainty and stability. So it’s hard to acknowledge that we can’t ever count on knowing what will happen next. We try to figure out what’s coming. And we say that we’re going to visit our families in Korea and Sweden next year, 2024. We plan it, book it, announce it. But we can’t know that we will actually get there.
This all sounds a little exasperating. But strangely, this past year I’ve also become aware of a serenity that I didn’t know before. A kind of peace and calm in the face of uncertainty. An urge to slow down, have another look, say another kind word, keep my gaze just a little longer, not rush off to do the next thing. It’s a tranquil place to be. And a gift.
So is the subtle melancholy that invisibly creeps into the most unexpected moments and situations. It’s a sweet kind of sadness, full of gratitude. Just today, Linda and I were sitting on our glassed-in patio, illuminated by the sun which is unshrouded by clouds, a rare event in December’s Vancouver. We’re surrounded by gently swaying evergreens and vibrant leafy laurels, squirrels hopping between the plants, hopelessly searching for wherever they buried their food in August. I’m sipping freshly brewed coffee and Linda hot green tea. This is the life! Here, present together. Cozy and grateful. It could end right now and this would have been the best moment of my life.
Yeah, I think so.
Linda
Yes, life is exactly as it should be. That includes cancer. We have received such care, kindness and generosity from friends and strangers alike, from the moment we found out right up to the present day. Having received, we also learn to give. We are more generous and kinder to people now, including ourselves. That, too, is a great lesson.
We dwell less on things that are not going to add to our quality of life because time is precious. The value of our time has appreciated significantly. We are more judicious in how we spend it and that is also a valuable lesson. We may all live 90 years but, if we were to sleepwalk through it, what would be the point? Instead, we can now value the most precious resource we have – time – as we should and live true to ourselves.
With a few months of chemotherapy still remaining, and some side effects of various treatments still stubbornly hanging on, we soldier on with acceptance, gratitude and courage.
Signing off With Abundance of Love and Light!
Linda & Håkan
