David's Mom, Mary, was diagnosed with breast cancer last week. I lagged in writing a post because I struggled to form sentences about these seemingly incomprehensible circumstances. So here is the truth told from three perscpectives.
Story 1: When I had cancer in medical school, Mike, my boyfriend at the time, was a PhD student in a high-powered Stanford Lab, the Principal Investigator of which just won the Noble Prize in Chemistry two weeks ago. When Mike went back to work and shared the news of my cancer, one of his lab mates pulled him aside and said,
"I'm so sorry Mike. When are you going to break up with her?"
"What?" Mike responded, utterly confused.
"Well you better do it soon, cancer is contagious." He honestly believed this.
Theory number one: Mary got cancer from me. So watch out friends and family, you better start wearing Xena Warrior Princess-style iron brassiere if you want to safely remain in my proximity.
Story 2: Jerry shaved his head even before I started chemotherapy to be in solidarity. Mary, not one to be outdone by Jerry, decided to go the extra mile and get breast cancer herself. These are Mary's intrepid words.
Theory number two: extra compassion gave Mary cancer.
Story 3: There actually is no story.
Theory number three: Mary was diagnosed just months after me, just months after our families connected, for no particular reason at all.
Religions have worked on the stomach-knot producing issue of finding reason in misfortune for milenia. In Christianity you often hear phrases such as, "This is my cross to bear" or "God only gives you what you can take" when a misfortune strikes. In Hinduism, hardships in this life are a reflection of ills your soul has made in previous lives. In Buddhism, there is no inherent suffering, it is our reaction to our circumstances that produces suffering.
None of these really jive with my experience or sentiments right now, although I am working on the Buddhist one. Why? Because it gives me an interesting task of reflection.
And doing is the only thing that helps.
Walking the dogs off-leash near Willowside west of Santa Rosa. Watching them investigate countless scents in the underbrush, now lush from one good rain.
Re-potting my house plants that have outgrown their soil, watering them, then watching new leaves spring forth just days later.
Carving Halloween pumpkins then watching them rot and slump off our porch railing after two days of mid-October 90 degree weather. The greyish white mold inside was thick as the fur of a wolf.
Watching Hannah, the 1.5 year old daughter of med school friends, investigate the two foot radius around our restuarant patio table. Fallen limes, a dislodged patio stone, a discarded mini-US flag, seven assorted jelly containers. A world of possibility.
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