Finding Peace in a Cancer Diagnosis
Life may be out of our control, but how we respond to adversity isn’t
I start treatment soon for an illness I didn’t even know I had a month ago.
Talk about putting things into perspective.
One minute, you’re living life. Making plans. Dealing with the daily hiccups and stress.
The next, you wonder what the future holds…
And if there will even be one.
It’s not just about your own determination to stay positive, either. It’s also about drawing from the positive actions of those around you.
Friends and family members pray for us daily. Frequent cards from my mom and dad let me know they’re thinking about me and remind me of how much I am loved.
My husband has barely left my side since going with me for the ultrasound that detected an ovarian mass. Even though he was reeling from his own questions and fears, he focused on lifting my spirits.
Holding me close at every turn.
Insisting we go on walks each morning to talk things through like we used to do early in our relationship.
He even bought flowers for my nightstand, promising I would wake up to a beautiful bouquet every day I faced this fight.
From his actions to those of loved ones — including a few people I’ve regrettably let slip away over the years — I have been surrounded by loving gestures, prayers, and unwavering confidence in my ability to “kick this cancer’s ass” (as my cousin so eloquently put it).
There is much power in knowing you are loved. Whether it’s a text message, an unexpected gift, a heartfelt card, or simply a hug, every ounce of positive energy serves as inspiration to keep your chin up and fight.
Cancer is an insidious disease and certainly not something I expected to face in my early 50s.
Yet here I am, staring down a 6-month treatment plan, praying to survive, recover, and experience some relief.
I’ve cried. I’ve screamed. I’ve questioned why. I’ve fretted over the worst-case scenario.
But I am not defeated. Even when I allow the fear, anger, and sadness to take over, I quickly find my way back to a positive mindset.
From my own faith to the prayers of others, there’s a quiet confidence in knowing I’m being supported when I need it most.
I’m uplifted by those around me. Their encouragement helps me to believe it will all be okay in the end.
“You’re going to hate me for a while,” my oncologist said as she laid out her treatment plan. “But it will eventually be worth it.”
And you know what?
I believe her.
Originally published in Deep. Sweet. Valuable.
