Fear

I learned something about fear today. Something that I would like to share:

In a previous posting, I talked about how distressing it was initially to get the cancer diagnosis, but that -- with time and understanding of my condition in its larger sense -- I had come to the conclusion that "nothing could go wrong." And I still feel that way.

But this morning, I had this "dark cloud looming on the horizon" feeling that I could not identify. Why did I feel so apprehensive after settling into such positive confidence over the last week or so? This afternoon, working with Allison, my healer, (whom many of you know...) I believe we have uncovered an important truth about fear.

But let's back up a bit first:

Early in this process, Deb and I knew very little about what was really going on with me. Did I have a single tumor somewhere inside or was my body riddled from head to foot with cancer? Was the treatment going to be a short, simple process or months of painful procedures? Was the cancer and its treatment going to rob me of my vitality? Cripple me? Was I going to die? Fear was a perfectly reasonable feeling, and Deb and I shared it frequently.

During this time, Deb and I often just held each other, remembering the wonderful life that we've built together -- a shared life that might be coming to an end sometime soon... Although we were both afraid from time to time, it must be said that in this period of not-knowing we found a reawakening of our love, our passion for each other. Even in the darkest moments, there can be joy. And the fear subsided and then evaporated.

Well, that time is past -- and it feels like it is long past, even if it is really only a few weeks. We now know that I have only a single, small, fairly new tumor located somewhere in my head/neck region. It needs to be found and dealt with, but my medical team is confident they can get that job done. For them, this is fairly routine stuff. We now know that most people with this condition recover their fully active lifestyle. We now know that this cancer won't kill me.

Having made the decision yesterday to continue the plan to have the upcoming surgery done at Chester County Hospital rather than Johns Hopkins (more on this will be posted elsewhere); and that the surgery will be performed by Dr. Chuma, whom I trust; all the pieces seem to be in place.

So why did the fear come back? And why did it feel so different?

Having done my research, asked every question I could think of, secured a second opinion from a prestigious instution, talked my decisions over with dear friends who happened to be superb medical folks themselves, the road ahead seemed clear.

And I felt that if I truly had confidence in my decisions, my medical team, my chosen hospital, my ability to bounce back from surgery and radiology, then there was no reason for fear. In fact, any hint of fear would be an indication that I did not have full confidence in what I was doing -- and what everyone else was doing on my behalf.

So fear equated with not feeling prepared. Not having full confidence in the plan. So I made no room for such feeling. Everything felt tight and under control, and I pushed any feelings of fear away.

Allison reminded me that there were still many unknowns in my immediate future: what Dr. Chuma would find during the surgery. What the biopsy would show. How uncomfortable my recovery would be -- and how long it would take. How soon I could start driving again. Performing again. Dinosaur hunting again. And so there were, in fact, lots of perfectly sensible reasons left for fear: a stack of serious unknowns.

Allison also helped me see that pushing away the fear only empowered it. It did, in truth, loom darkly on the horizon, where I couldn't meet it and work through it. If I allowed myself to feel the fear, see that it was perfectly reasonable to feel afraid of what the future might hold, then I could move through the fear and come out on the other side. I could recognize the feeling of fear as being just a feeling and get back to enjoying every moment of living and relishing the manifold gifts that the Universe has provided for me.

So I stand by my previous statement that nothing can go wrong with this process. Painful things might happen. Unexpected things -- both good and bad -- will undoubtedly happen. Fear will undoubtedly show up again -- likely at unexpected and perhaps unfortunate times. And I hope simply to recognize the fear, own up to it, allow it to wash through me, and leave me nestled in the arms of love.