Again

When you survive cancer, the last word you ever want to hear again is cancer. For a while you don't want to hear it in conversation—you simply want to forget, even for just a bit, that you had it.

Most cancer survivors aren't lucky enough to forget. They have reminders. A bald head, a missing part of their body, or a body part that just doesn't work as well as it once did. But soon, the fact that you are a cancer survivor weaves itself into the fabric of your life. It is a part of who you are.

But still you don't really want to hear the word again. Certainly not in relation to a loved one though the odds are that you will. And, deep down, every cancer survivor wonders when it will strike again. Every doctor's appointment has a question mark hanging over it.

Cancer is a strange disease. There are some forms that are relatively “simple”--for which we are thankful. There are some forms that everyone knows are worse than others. Yet, even simple ones—the ones with high cure rates and minimally invasive treatments cause that breath sucking moment when it is associated with your name.

I had that moment this week. (This is not an attempt to be overly dramatic or a search for sympathy; just trying to process!) I found out that I have basal cell carcinoma on my nose. It will require outpatient surgery and won't be the most pleasant (or pain free) experience but no more than follow ups will be required afterward.

I am incredibly thankful that it is that simple. I am thankful that treatment looks easy (though this is NOT the way I dreamed of having a nose job). I am thankful beyond words that this particular kind of cancer is contained.

But still. It's cancer. Wrapping my head around the fact that this is the second time in my life has been a little more difficult than I thought it would be. And, honestly, there is a part of me that feels guilty even giving much thought to this when there are many people for whom a diagnosis such as this would be a welcome relief compared with the news they normally hear from their doctors.

There is a fear attached to the very word cancer. No one wants to hear it. No one wants to go through it. There's an unknown associated with not only the disease but sometimes even the treatment. And it is in that unknown that fear thrives.

When the unknown collides with the known, that is a beautiful place. Because the known, the truth, the grace, and the light make sense of the unknown. The fear may still be there, because let's face it some of the things we go through in this life, just aren't pleasant.

Sometimes we need to be reminded that groping through fear in the dark places of our lives actually reveals a much deeper beauty.