Cancer Doesn't Scare Me Anymore
From "Fearproof Your Life"
Cancer is a word often spoken in hushed, doom-filled tones. We feel fear in our hearts when we hear the word. Who gives us that fear? We do it to ourselves.
The first time the fear of cancer flooded my thoughts was when I was twelve years old. I was writing a health report about cells multiplying out of control; it was called cancer. I sat at my desk terrified that one day it would invade my body. Later, when I was nineteen, I witnessed my dear uncle crying his heart out as he described his beautiful wife dying of this dread disease. In between and since, I have listened to family members talking in those hushed tones about so and so who was battling cancer. Every time my emotions filled with fear.
In September 1998, I was told I had cancer. I was terrified. Should I clean out my drawers and make out my will? Over the course of chemotherapy, radiation, corrective and many exploratory surgeries, I observed that cancer wasn’t scaring me; I was.
It is very simple. We scare ourselves with our thoughts. Now, when cancer enters a conversation, I observe my thoughts. When my thoughts picture that black, hairy devil lurking in my body, I dismiss them.
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I felt betrayed by my body, helpless, and out of control. My days became filled with doctor appointments, crowded waiting rooms, huge humming machines peering into my body, treatments, needles, and most of all, fear. And, oh yes, that dreaded look on the face of my well-meaning family and friends as they talked about my “battle.” They thought my battle was with cancer. It wasn’t; it was with my thoughts.
I am forever grateful to my loving husband, family, friends, doctors, and nurses for their attention and support as I made the journey through diagnosis and treatments. One of my special memories is when a business colleague and his son, who were away on a hunting trip, called me from a duck blind in Canada to encourage me with the words, “Never give up, never give up.”
I believe it was during that phone call that I decided (the point of choice) to practice what I had been taught. For twenty years my avocation had been studying the power of the mind. I had read hundreds of books and attended countless lectures, seminars, and workshops, but it took cancer to teach me what I had to learn.
The human mind is powerful. It can be used to our detriment or for our benefit. For good or evil. I decided to give up what was making me miserable, my fear. I was scaring myself to death. It was up to me.
Following that realization, my moments became peaceful, almost serene. Maybe it was the wonder drugs my doctor was giving me to relax. (My husband and I frequently called my oncologist “Mr. Chemical Man” because he had a drug for everything.) But it wasn’t the drugs. It was me. I was deciding what thoughts I was going to pay attention to (and empower with choice). I became aware of how fear had invaded my life more than the cancer. And to be honest, fear was deteriorating my quality of life more than the cancer.
What a relief. My mind quieted down, and peacefulness surrounded me. (Fear is very noisy.) As my mind quieted I became aware of my life beyond cancer. Suddenly, the doctor appointments had moments of comedy, and I spent my chemo treatments getting to know my wonderful chemo nurse, Marty, and my fellow chemo patients. I’ll never forget the day when my husband, a fellow patient, and I were having a great time laughing about something or other during one of my treatments. Marty turned around with his hand on his hip and a stern look on his face and said, “You people are having entirely too much fun in here.” We laughed some more. When living with fear, cancer has no sense of humor. Letting go of the heavy thoughts of fear allows room for light thoughts, and joy enters in.
My new life with cancer continued. I had challenges to meet. Such as the day my doctor told me the spot on my lung was waking him up at night and we had to find out what it was; my world turned black again. Fear returned. I held onto it for about two hours. Yes, it was two hours too many, but again I observed how I was scaring myself. It wasn’t the cancer; it was my thoughts. I quieted my mind. I let go of the noisy thoughts. The next time I talked to my doctor I heard his words of wisdom clearly. “Things have a way of working out,” he said. Had I still been in that dark noisy world of fear, I would not have heard him. Since I was still undergoing radiation treatments, I had many days and weeks to wait for the diagnostic exploratory lung surgery. During those days of waiting, I treasured the quiet thought: Things have a way of working out.
It is interesting how fear lurks in the corners of the best moments. After lung surgery I was sitting in my house one day, and I started counting the bouquets of flowers that were everywhere—forty-six, to be exact. Did I think, Oh, how wonderful to have so many thoughtful friends and family? No, I started to ask my husband for the pathology report, because I was certain he was keeping from me the dread news that they had found cancer, even though the doctor told me they hadn’t. But I stopped and observed how fear was back and ruining a special moment. I reminded myself of what was really happening. I was scaring myself. Oh, what we do to ourselves to make our lives miserable.
Now you might be thinking, they didn’t find cancer, so she doesn’t have to live in fear. No, they didn’t find cancer, but they found a disease that killed my mother. Have I ever had a fearful thought about that disease? No. Go figure. Which again shows me that if we are afraid, it is because we are doing it to ourselves with our thoughts. The good news is that we are in control of our thoughts. We think what we choose to think.
I changed my fear about cancer when I saw a billboard that said, “Cancer doesn’t scare me anymore.” The change happened in a moment after decades of fearing cancer. To this day, I don’t know if I really saw that billboard, or if the thought just came to my mind. It really doesn’t matter. I gave up. I gave up fearful cancer thoughts.
Life is good, but I know that if someday my doctor says my number is up, I know I will be taken care of and I am not afraid. As my wise doctor said, “Things have a way of working out.” Cancer doesn’t scare me anymore.
