Most of my dreams are nonsense. As “the Giver” says, they are usually “a combination of reality, fantasy, emotions and what you had for dinner”. But I had a different kind of dream a few days ago that, despite the strange logic of dreams, was a pretty accurate depiction of how I’ve been feeling for a while.
In my dream I was in some kind of reality show, and all of us were playing a frantic game of tag. We were each chasing the person before us, and the ones chasing me were fast and strong and relentless. I was fine for a few rounds, but then I became more and more exhausted. But I was being chased and I had to keep running, no matter how exhausted I became. I desperately wanted to find a way out of the game, but there seemed to be no way to escape it.
When I got the news in October that my cancer was in remission, I expected a wonderful sense of relief. I was going to get back to something like normal! But I had a nagging thought that wouldn’t go away that said, “yes, but…” I kept thinking it was pessimism or dread of “the other shoe dropping” or something. The thing is, I’m not pessimistic by nature, and this feeling was surprisingly persistent.
Before long I discovered that those little words, “yes, but…” were preparing me for another challenge. The osteoarthritis that I knew had been brewing in my hip suddenly became a constant reminder that cancer is not the only problem I would face. Instead of the relief and active season I was hoping for during remission, I’ve had nearly four months of increasing pain and wondering if there would be a solution. I had been told that my cancer prevented the doctors being able to do anything that could really help. PT was the only weapon I had to fight with, and after 9 weeks of it, I was still losing the battle. I dealt with the pain day by day and sometimes even hour by hour, and I worked hard to control my thoughts about the future during those weeks. To be honest, though, sometimes it felt rather bleak.
I thought often about what Victor Frankl once said, “I had no intention of losing hope and giving up. For no man knew what the future would bring, much less the next hour.”
Three weeks ago, I sat stunned as my oncologist said that being stable in remission opened a window for the only real solution, a total hip replacement. What I thought was off the table was now a real possibility! I have to go off the chemotherapy for some weeks, and the surgery and all the implications of it are not without sobering risks. But Miracle of Miracles, I am scheduled for a hip replacement this week!
It’s been a year of running. I have been in relentless pursuit of some level of health, normal feeling and activity, and being relentlessly pursued by a physical body that, in the words of my surgeon, “has a lot going on!” And the reality show goes on. Sometimes I feel exhausted and wonder how long I can keep running. More of the time, I am energized and sustained by focusing on the joy of what I can do, the people I love, and the truth I know.
According to Viktor Frankl, we can discover meaning in life in three different ways: (1) by creating a work or doing a deed; (2) by experiencing something or encountering someone; and (3) by the attitude we take toward unavoidable suffering.
He said, “Once an individual’s search for a meaning is successful, it not only renders him happy but also gives him the capability to cope with suffering.”
I have thought a lot about what I want people to know about how I’m doing. What is the truth about me? I am happy. Despite the relentless race in pursuit of a moving target, I am happy.