The Upcoming Surgery: A Reaction

When Dr. Chuma told me about the biopsy results, I was stunned and disbelieving:

• He must have the results of somebody else's test and called me by mistake.
• Dammit, it was just a little bump on the neck. It couldn't be anything serious, much less cancer.
• I've been ridiculously healthy all my life. Why would that change?
• I've done nothing wrong. I don't deserve this!!

When he later told me what a "Modified Radical Neck Dissection" involved, I was repulsed and terrified. It sounded so barbaric -- such a huge and devastating response to the discovery of such a small lump. A lump I might not have even noticed for weeks or months if my GP doctor hadn't brought it to my attention.

Hadn't I already been through one surgery to remove the lump? Wasn't that the most serious operation I'd ever had? Hadn't I paid enough dues for having a little lump on my throat? This just wasn't fair!!

What I came to see is that I had focused on the lump. The cancer. The very idea of cancer affecting me. The operation. What might go wrong -- in or after the operation. That I would be a cancer patient forever. That I didn't know what condition I would be in when all the dust had settled. What I might lose during the operation and recovery period. How I might have to bear these losses for the rest of my life...

Sandra Barnard (whom some of you know) has occasionally said "You need to be very careful what you focus on in your life. Because with that focus, you give that person or that thing an energy -- a presence -- that it wouldn't otherwise have. And you may find yourself building the rest of your life around that object or person. So choose wisely." Or words to that effect.

And what I came to see was that, in truth, I am a very healthy person who happens to have a touch of cancer. That I am incredibly fortunate that my GP doc found this lump so early. Fortunate because now it can be dealt with in the most efficacious manner by excellent medical personnel specifically trained to help and support me. That my years of keeping myself reasonably fit and trim were about to pay off big time.

That I am married to a wonderful woman who supports me -- and wants to support me -- when I simply can't do it alone. A loving companion that I have taken for granted far too often.

That I am surrounded by friends and family who love me. That I haven't really understood how much love there is directed my way from so many different sources. Didn't understand this until after the diagnosis came in.

That my e-mail directory is much bigger than I thought it was -- and it's filled with the names of people who mean so much to me. Funny people. Inspiring people. Talented people. Warm and loving people.

That I live at a time and in a place where this cancer is totally curable.

That in a very real sense, nothing can go wrong because of this illness. It may be short or long in duration. It may be painless -- or otherwise. I may wind up with my all-but-perfect health intact -- or not. But nothing can go wrong.