January 9, 2007
While I was traveling through Europe, I picked up the habit of lighting candles for friends and loved ones in the cathedrals and other houses of worship I explored – a habit I am happily continuing in New York. Having been a self-declared atheist at the age of twelve, I find this to be particularly ironic. Of course my relationship with “God” has morphed and grown through my life, but I was still never much of one for institutionalized religion. I do, however, believe fervently in the power of prayer; in the receptiveness of our universe to our clearly conceived desires when they are expressed with a true belief in their possibility, as well as a humble awareness that our prayers may or may not be answered in quite the way we conceived – and that is likely a good thing.
After five months traveling, I had prayed at hundreds of ‘churches’ representing at least a dozen denominations, lit several dozen candles, and written God knows (literally) how many prayer requests. It didn’t matter the house of worship – I curtsey when I enter, bowing my head, then walk slowly through with my hands clasped in front of me admiring the glory of the place and paying my respects to whatever figures are standing around. If there are candles, I light them. If there are prayer request forms, I write them. If there are neither, I sit or kneel or stand, as seems appropriate, bow my head, close my eyes and run through the list. General prayers for family, then friends, then mankind. Specific prayers for those who have asked me to pray for them - prayers for babies and marriages, new jobs, good grades, and a variety of other hopes and dreams. I pray for the strangers who have helped me on my path – kind check out girls or waiters or the guy in the street who gave me directions. I pray for myself - for my safety as I travel, contentment with my choices, and patience with my challenges. I close all prayers with my deepest hope for mankind – that we may all find peace within so that we may express peace without.
As I traveled, the list of specific prayers always remained around a dozen or so, even though it was always changing. It was actually astonishing how many prayers were answered just as new prayers were asked. It was like watching the change of seasons, the passage of time, as prayers were asked, answered, and forgotten in the wake of new prayers to be asked. Some were answered as asked, some in other ways.
The most common prayer, to my sadness, was for a friend or their loved one to find peace or recovery in their battle with cancer. This was particularly disconcerting, for in the first thirty-nine years of my life I knew only one person who had had cancer. She was a childhood friend and had died as a girl. I named my dog after her. For the next thirty plus years, I never knew anyone who had cancer; not even anyone who knew someone who had cancer – that I knew of anyway.
Then, two years ago, the mother of one of my best girlfriend’s was diagnosed; then the father of another. Then several other friends shared with me that someone close to them had cancer. Random conversations in airports and train stations oddly kept turning to a spouse or parent or friend with cancer. The sudden appearance of this disease in so many of my conversations with both friends and strangers made me begin to wonder if I am just reaching an age group where it is more prevalent or if it is actually on the rise.
Here is what I found out according to a recently released world report on cancer:
- Global Cancer rates are expected to increase FIFTY percent in the next dozen years
- In industrialized countries, one in four people will die from this disease
- The US has the highest cancer rate among industrialized countries
The good news is there are many more forms of cancer that can be successfully treated. But the possibility for successful treatment doesn’t lessen the fear those six letters can strike in your heart when you hear them about yourself or a loved one.
Last week another friend called to say her mother had been diagnosed. The next day I received an email from a friend who had gotten “the news.” His email was so profoundly written, so expressive of the flurry of feelings that come with “the news,” I asked if I could share it on my site. He agreed. Perhaps it will help those who have been affected to read these words. Perhaps it will help those of you who haven’t been affected to take heed…
Life is beautiful, powerful, and ever so tender. As you face this New Year, I pray to each of you, take care of yourselves and your loved ones. Eat well, exercise, try to breathe freely more than you worry, play as much as you work, sleep enough, love a lot, laugh. I will continue to light candles for you all, but I’d sure rather be asking for babies and raises than successful chemotherapy.
Thank you, J, for letting me pass on your words….
All my love to all of you and all the world,
Sherry
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
So I went the other day to have this pre-scheduled test. Hey. It is not a big deal. So they knock you out and you see colors (wow. It’s legal!) and the doctor says it’s okay and afterwards you take your kid to the movies. Right? Well, well, the colors were fine and the doctor said the test was fine and we'd get the results in a couple of days (and we all know the results are going to be fine, right) and ooops, ouch, ah, well, all of a sudden there is a lot of pain. Not good. I don't think I like pain. No. I know I don't like pain. No. This is not good pain. No. this is real bad pain. No. No this not good. So I spend 2 days sitting in a hospital. Lots of pain. Not good. Pain from a complication from the test. Not from any sort of test results.
Okay. They fix the complication.
Okay. I go home. Wow. What an experience. Not good. And all for some stupid test that I did not need.
A few days pass. I'm at work, thank you.
The doctor calls. How are you? We'll, there were some after-shocks from the procedure, but I'm doing much better thank you.
We have the test results.
I heard a couple of words.
Just a couple.
Just one, actually.
A six letter word.
The word that is designed to scare you.
How did a word get to be so evil?
So ugly?
So scary?
It’s just a word, isn't it?
A few letters.
Nothing hurts.
Everything works.
But that word is there.
"It was only in one small spot."
Only.
Isn't it supposed to happen to the other guy?
It is not supposed to happen to you, right?
What did I do to deserve it?
It is supposed to happen to the other guy. Really. Truly. Not me.
What does that ugly word mean other than folks marching down the street to raise some money? Hey- I even got the alumni to participate in a fund-raiser last year at NYU. Stayed up all night and walked in circles.
It is supposed to happen to the other guy. Not me.
"We think it is unlikely that it has spread elsewhere, but we're going to put you into these cold machines to determine that."
Hey, I bought the 75 year, 150,000 mile warranty. But maybe the mileage is high. And then maybe that is good.
Why didn't I buy the 250,000 mile warranty? “Cause it would have been 'too expensive' - I could not have done all of the things that I've done.”
But there is so much more I want to do.
There is so much more that I have to do.
There is so much more…
"It appears as if it is very early and there should be a number of treatment options which should be successful."
Who wrote that speech? A lawyer? Appears? As if? Should? Should? Successful?
How can it be successful if it has ratified a belief that you are merely mortal and imperfect?
How do I tell my babies that daddy has a problem that we're going to have to deal with?
How do you not scare them, when you are scared yourself?
Now I know that it is a relatively (relatively?) common thing in men. And there are treatments which leave you both alive and working and that of all of the types of things which can happen to you which are bad this is not as bad as the others blah blah blah blah blah.
Why?
Why me?
Why now?
Why?
Is it a sign that I really have to change what I am doing?
Is it a sign that I really have to pause and reflect?
Is it a reminder that I am mortal?
Is it a reminder that I am, in fact, imperfect?
That?
Life is full of unknowns. There are more unknowns than knowns. And usually it is fun learning the unknowns. Sometimes it is not.
Sherry,
this is very touching, your writing is...maybe I don't know the right word in English...but i can say deep and each word touches the inner and hiding feelings inside us.
love
laura
Posted by: Laura | January 11, 2007 at 11:02 AM