Cancer Journey: Eeyore or Pollyanna?

by Max Lewis, CSJP-A

As a card-carrying neurotic, I expected my first inpatient hospital experience to be awful. There’s a reason my friend calls me Eeyore. That was 12 years ago when I needed surgery for popliteal aneurysms. Despite my obsessiveness, I failed to follow the presurgery instructions correctly, and as a result I was advised that the type of anesthesia which would be used would cause me to wake up as I was being wheeled into the post-operative recovery room, rather than to slowly awaken. Boredom-averse as I am, I brought a book. When the post-op nurse saw me reading, she exclaimed, “You’re reading!! Get Out! Get out of my post-op! You’re wasting space!”

She put me in such a great mood that my hospital stay got off to an auspicious start. Despite this promising beginning, I still expected a terrible experience. What happened, though, was that for my remaining few days in the hospital I simply felt like I was one member of a group, the rest of whose members were tender, dedicated caregivers. My month-long recovery went well.

I’ve been in great health ever since, so being diagnosed with esophageal cancer in March of this year was quite a surprise; I’d had no symptoms. But the exceptional experience years before prepared me to have a positive view. However, I do have my principles! One must be loyal to one’s neuroses. The first couple of weeks I was obsessed with data, reading articles and research, poring over graphs and charts, determined to calculate my prognosis to within five decimal points. I didn’t know how to feel beyond shocked and numb. Most of all I felt the deep desire to spend many, many more years with my wonderful wife Kathy.

As it turns out, my incredible Kathy and my CSJP community were able to soothe my neurotic Eeyore with their inimitable love and support, a healthy dose of faith, and oh yes, a little honey. Shortly after I was diagnosed, Kathy and I attended the CSJP Spring Assembly at St. Mary-on-the-Lake. Even then, I was able to realize that Kathy would be just as beautiful, Lake Washington would be just as beautiful, the sisters and associates would be just as beautiful, no matter what transpired with my health. God’s creation would continue to be ineffably gracious.

And so, it has been. I went through five weeks of chemotherapy and radiation feeling happy and peaceful. On August 6th I’ll have an esophagectomy. Although the prognosis won’t be clear until after the surgery, it really feels as though any fear I might be expected to feel just isn’t present. The healthcare staff have been so delightful, so lovely, so inspiring. It’s quite moving to watch them tease each other, and me, to keep me entertained and in good humor. It doesn’t hurt that our wonderful oncology nurse practitioner Amy calls our sweet oncologist ‘Peanut’. My prayer is that our world can move in the direction of everyone’s job being dedicated to caring and compassion, like theirs are. More nurses, fewer hedge fund managers!

Sitting daily in the radiation waiting room, I again felt like part of a group, of both caring staff and patients with perhaps more difficult situations than mine. There is nothing like extra time on your hands and the not so subtle reminder of the value of life to bring priorities and justice to the fore. I’ve led such a privileged life. I’ve carried this default assumption that everything in my life should be easy, pleasant, and go my way, unlike the experience of 90% of my sisters and brothers. I thought about them the most in that waiting room. What if I were sitting in a bus terminal in El Salvador instead of a radiation waiting room? Would I hear that the man on my left had been abused by the police? Would the young woman on my right tell me about her brother who’d been murdered by the gangs?

My liberation theology studies this past year have been a profound blessing, showing me that there’s a different perspective. It’s just simply not all about me! It’s about all of us! Campesinos in El Salvador, nurses in the US, villagers in Kenya. In a way that I can’t really explain, I feel connected: I feel connected to my cancer caregivers, to my earlier aneurysm caregivers, to our wonderful CSJP sisters and associates. I hope it isn’t too presumptuous to say it, but I feel connected to the oppressed people of Latin America I’ve been reading about via liberation theology. And most of all, I feel so blessedly connected to my incredible Kathy. Oh, and did I mention that my friend who calls me Eeyore says some days I’m a Pollyanna? I think the truth is on all days I’m blessed whatever name I’m called.

 

This article appeared in the Autumn 2018 issue of Living Peace.

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