Tuesday, September 27, 2005

Twelve Steps to Cured

Step One

“Hi, My name is Tom,” I said to the circle of sullen eyes bouncing of the floor and ceiling. I looked down at the yellow bracelet, which had inched up on my arm, and pulled it down to my wrist to revive circulation. My eyes caught the hand-made 'CA' sign taped to the door with an arrow pointing into the room we were in. This was my first meeting so my nerves were starting to get the best of me. “I have cancer,” I continued with sweaty palms. “I’ve been clean for 3 months." I felt like a junkie as I went on to explain my disease and how it was treated. Congratulatory claps filled the room as genuine smiles briefly hit faces.

I sat down and looked around at the others as they told their stories. I was the youngest of the bunch by about ten years and only one of three males. All were in different stages of their treatments – some were losing the battle, all were in purgatory. I had been the only person who wasn’t currently going through treatments. I noticed subtle looks of spite shot my way but I couldn’t blame them. After all, I knew how they felt.

So why was I there? Shouldn’t I be moving on since I was clean for three months? The meeting wasn’t designed to keep out the clean it just happened to work out that way. I sunk into my seat and drew in my thoughts in an attempt to answer my own question. The voices around me were now just echoes in my brain, images for my eyes to bounce off of. A crystal ball of illusion in my mind showed me ten years older sitting in the same room with some of the same people, some new faces, and some empty seats in memory of those lost. “I’m Tom,” I said with a dejected voice, “and I’ve been clean for ten years.”

What did it all mean? Am I destined to live in the shadows covered by the black cloud of cancer? Am I to mirror the ways of an addict collecting yearly pins in recognition of the tests I pass? The crystal ball turned cloudy as I began to shake my head to snap out of it. The words “Why are you here?” hung in the air like a scene from J.K. Rowling. “Why are you here?” It was the group leader. She was asking me why I was there.

“So Tom, seeing that it’s your first meeting, why don’t you tell us why you’re here?” I paused. How long had all the eyes been staring at me? I shifted my jeans, sat upright and began.

‘When I was going through my treatments I was so focused on getting myself better that I never thought about the magnitude of the situation. I conditioned my brain to focus on getting myself healthy, which meant taking things one day at a time. Today I have blood work. Tomorrow I have a shot and the next day is chemo. I wouldn’t allow myself to think about what happened afterwards. Nor would I allow myself to worry about having cancer. I had it and I needed to get rid of it. I chose to focus on getting rid of it.’

I stopped for a second to collect my thoughts. My emotions were jumbled. Why are you here continued to dance in front of me. I noticed I had really captured everyone’s attention giving me more confidence to continue on.

‘I guess since I was so focused on getting rid of the cancer I never allowed myself to be emotionally attached to the seriousness of the situation. I never worried, for a lack of better way to say it. Now the treatments are over and my daily visits to the hospital are reduced to monthly. The port in me is a tangible reminder that the black cloud is always looming. And so I think it’s emotionally harder for me to deal with it now more than ever. Now, frankly, I worry a bit.’

I stopped again because my throat began to get tight as I said the last sentence. The water ducts were rising and I was trying to fight them off. Others in the room were nodding in approval and understanding. The leader caught on to my struggles and graciously bailed me out. “Tom’s feelings are normal. Who else…” and the crystal ball popped in my head again. Echoes and images. It flashed me back to when I was fifteen sitting in the back seat of a car drinking a beer and listening to Stairway To Heaven repeatedly on the radio for its twenty-year anniversary. It made me smile. Cancer is a long-term fight and I won the first battle, I thought to myself. How long will I need to fight the fight? I guess that’s a topic for another meeting.