Good Question
Over the past couple of months, I have spoken to numerous people regarding my battle with cancer. Often, I get some interesting questions. Tonight, I received my most interesting question yet…
The reporter from the Columbus Monthly started talking about my experience during chemotherapy. She noted that I described two different groups of people in the chemotherapy room- the first group being the senior citizens and the second being the 30 to 40 year old moms. I do not remember her exact words, but she finally framed the question, “Does the room and surroundings make you think about your mortality?”
It took me a minute to answer. I was somewhat taken back. I have never really thought about my mortality. Honestly, I do not think she meant to ask the question in a way that would raise fears. But, it was nonetheless thought provoking- in a good way. Like I have said from the beginning, I trust in God’s plan. I told her: “I continue to trust in my faith. When my time comes, I know where am I am going, and I am not fearful of that time. Right now, I am taking things one day at a time- making way.”
As I drove home from the meeting, I gave the question a little bit more thought. I continue to have a positive outlook, but my outcome is not a guarantee. But, bigger than my situation, I started thinking about the condition of others in the chemotherapy room. They say Hodgkin’s disease is the “good cancer.” As I started to think further, I came to the realization that not all the folks in that room have the same prognosis as me. Their cancers are much more likely to accompany tougher, longer battles followed by lower survival rates.
When my mom was talking to the reporter the other night, she made the rhetorical comment, “Is it hard to take your child into a chemotherapy room? You bet.” At the time, I did not think much of her words. Now, as I think about the bigger situation, I understand her thoughts, fears, and concerns. She is taking me into a room that often serves as the last stage before death for some people.
For me, I do not see negativity in that room. I see hope. I see help. I see my road to recovery.
The reporter from the Columbus Monthly started talking about my experience during chemotherapy. She noted that I described two different groups of people in the chemotherapy room- the first group being the senior citizens and the second being the 30 to 40 year old moms. I do not remember her exact words, but she finally framed the question, “Does the room and surroundings make you think about your mortality?”
It took me a minute to answer. I was somewhat taken back. I have never really thought about my mortality. Honestly, I do not think she meant to ask the question in a way that would raise fears. But, it was nonetheless thought provoking- in a good way. Like I have said from the beginning, I trust in God’s plan. I told her: “I continue to trust in my faith. When my time comes, I know where am I am going, and I am not fearful of that time. Right now, I am taking things one day at a time- making way.”
As I drove home from the meeting, I gave the question a little bit more thought. I continue to have a positive outlook, but my outcome is not a guarantee. But, bigger than my situation, I started thinking about the condition of others in the chemotherapy room. They say Hodgkin’s disease is the “good cancer.” As I started to think further, I came to the realization that not all the folks in that room have the same prognosis as me. Their cancers are much more likely to accompany tougher, longer battles followed by lower survival rates.
When my mom was talking to the reporter the other night, she made the rhetorical comment, “Is it hard to take your child into a chemotherapy room? You bet.” At the time, I did not think much of her words. Now, as I think about the bigger situation, I understand her thoughts, fears, and concerns. She is taking me into a room that often serves as the last stage before death for some people.
For me, I do not see negativity in that room. I see hope. I see help. I see my road to recovery.
Maybe I am naïve. Maybe I am just blocking out things I do not want to face or do not want to know. I guess my faith gives me an inner peace. It gives me the strength to walk into that room without fear. It gives me the strength to sleep at night without worrying about tomorrow. It gives me the strength to somehow find the good in what seems like such a bad situation.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; Whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; Of whom shall I be afraid?
Psalm 27:1
posted by Chris at 1:04 AM
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