Day 30 of 30: The Bell and The Prophet

Today is the day. My final day of chemo and radiation.

These past 85 days from diagnosis of cancer to completing the first phase of treatment, have been a little (a lot) like hell. The pain, the fatigue, the nausea, and the other side effects I've not spoken much about before have been so difficult to get through.

"When your last treatment has come and gone, ring this bell to tell everyone! It's a time to celebrate, hip hip hurray! What a great feeling, what a great day!"

This is the bell at the cancer institute. Because I teach English, I have to mention the comma splice, and I'll leave it at that.

More importantly, because so many of the decisions I have made in my life have been based on avoiding attention as much as possible, I know that I am resisting ringing this bell. Ringing this bell is a celebratory performance, and while I am proud of myself for going through this very difficult thing, I don't think this is the time to celebrate. Not yet.

I don't want anyone to think that I'm giving up. I'm not. As a dear friend said to me yesterday, what I am doing is squaring my shoulders and bracing myself for the next round of this fight. This fight has been hard, and the last thing I want to do is get sucker-punched because I wasn't paying attention.

So, be proud of me for finishing this round of this treatment. I am proud to have the strength and support of so many of my friends and family.

I started re-reading The Prophet recently, as I do every year or two. 

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran

This book has brought me solace over the years. It is prose poetry, beautifully-written, that speaks to my soul. It is lovely, and it is mournful, and it reminds me to be more intentional, and every so often, something comes out and hits me over the head in an unexpected way:

"You have been told that, even like a chain,
you are as weak as your weakest link.
This is but half the truth. You are also as strong as your strongest link.
To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of ocean by the frailty of its foam.
To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy" (Gibran 86).

I've had so many people telling me that I am so strong going through all of this. That they don't know if they would be able to go through what I am going through. The thing is, I don't feel strong. It is not strength, but rather sheer force of will, stubbornness and spite, and just a touch of rage that has gotten me through this. A wise person once told me that you cannot pour from an empty cup, and there have been so many times that my cup has been so close to empty. I have succeeded in completing this step, no matter how close I've been to empty, and it is no small deed. Like the ocean, I will keep on keeping on, and like the seasons, I will be inconstant, but such is the measure of me.

I am strong, and I am weak.

"[T]here are those who have the truth within them, but they tell it not in words" (Gibran 60).

I will not ring the bell.