It’s been over a year now that I’ve been living with the new truth in my life – that I have shifted from the side of the ledger that tallies those without cancer to the side that tallies those with. Originally suspected to be a fallopian tube malignancy, when the mass was surgically removed from my abdomen, the diagnosis changed and I began reconciling myself to the fact that I had ovarian cancer, one of the most lethal cancers women experience mostly because it is often not found until its later stages. Fortunately, mine was found early and, as we awaited the pathology reports, I held to a centre of peace within a vortex of fear. The final diagnosis was that the malignancy was endometrial, the result of a long history of endometriosis perhaps tinged with the reality that I am a DES daughter and coloured by the unopposed estrogen I was getting from a small patch I’d been wearing for about a year. The prognosis is as good as it gets: no rogue cells were found in any of the other organs or tissues removed and any return of the malignancy is generally confined to the abdomen. No chemo, only a semi-annual follow-up to monitor me. In the midst of that chaos and in the new reality into which I step, my heart holds those whose journeys will not be so hope-filled. I offer this poem in tribute to them and to those who mirror their courage back to them through dark nights and fragile mornings.
It is the centre of a circle. A bound, perfect curve whirls past on every side spinning itself a place of peace, a hub of silence, a space for still reflection. Send your hand out in any direction and the flurry of movement will become a vortex, pull you out of that calm serenity, and knock you flat, leave you reeling and disoriented.
I choose the peace, however small the space into which I must fold myself to be fully held within its sacred beauty. I choose the silence over the cacophony of doubt and the plethora of ‘what-might-be’s. I choose the still, quiet centre wherein my heart is bathed in light. at least for now, at least until it is not so raw, until the ground stops spinning and I may stumble my way to my new reality. It is the centre of a circle, the centre of a world.