I only have a limited amount of energy.

This is not a confession of some weakness, but a simple fact (which applies to everyone, too). In many circumstances I can choose how to spend my energy such as going for a walk or staying at home. Other times, I don’t have a choice such as recovering from major surgery. With cancer, there is and there will be a mix, some I can control, some I cannot.

No Fighting

I am not going to fight cancer. Cancer will go away, but it will not be a fight. At times it will seem otherwise, especially on the surface if future treatments such as radiation or chemotherapy are involved, but it will not be a fight. I will win, my family will win, but it will not be a fight.

I don’t have the energy to waste fighting. I needed it with the ongoing recovery from surgery. The energy was put to better use such as spending time with my family and working, rather than fighting. It still is. There are quiet moments when the waves of worry flow in, bringing fear of what cancer could bring. I need the energy in those moments to deal with the emotional descents, to lift myself back up and settle back into my “knowing chair”. In this chair, I simply “know” everything will be all right.

My Lenses

Except for a small glass of champagne each New Years Eve, I don’t drink. I don’t miss it, I don’t crave it and I don’t want it. I stopped drinking over 20 years ago. I spent way too many mornings over many years trying to perfect a cure for hangovers. When it came time to really quit drinking, a friend recommended AA. I went for a brief time and then trailed away, but I did stop drinking.

Yet there still remained a challenge: how was I going to view this part of me. If I chose to see myself as an alcoholic who couldn’t drink, there would be an internal battle with ongoing fighting. The alcoholic would want to drink, but the “good Randy” would be saying no. I didn’t want to waste energy with that internal struggle. Instead, I am simply someone who doesn’t drink – nothing more complex than that.

With either viewpoint, the results on the outside are the same – no drinking and a healthier family and life. The results inside are dramatically different. Instead of smoky clouds in my internal landscape, billowing from smoldering sites of combats over drinking, the skies in this area are clear. It frees up energy, giving me the ability to deal with other issues more effectively.

And this is how I want it to be like with cancer.

Externally

Regardless of how I look upon this journey with cancer within, the external will look the same. Whatever procedures are prescribed and agreed upon will occur. Radiation and/or chemo might happen. Times of physical exhaustion may occur. I might lose what little hair I have. My taste buds might shift (but I will still likely not want olives!). It will be the necessary steps to encourage cancer to leave.

But this is the only level where I want any perceived battling to occur.

One Choice

I didn’t ask for cancer, but the unwelcome guest has slipped into the party. Maybe some life choices and behaviours have increased the ease of its entry, but I am not going to burn energy on a bunch of “what ifs”. It’s here and it has my attention. Now, what do I do?

I guess I could walk over to it, grab the closest baseball bat and start beating the shit out of it. I could swing and swing, connecting every time with knock-out blows. There is dust rising as I continue my assault. There is hardly a murmur from my victim as I hit with an aim that has pin-point perfection. Eventually, fatigued, I collapse.

As the dust slowly settles, I see the cancer is still there. It might have morphed, but emotionless and unflinching it looks up wondering what the hell I am doing. What is the difference? I am sapped of energy and less able to handle issues emotionally or mentally.

The Dance

Instead, I think I will choose to dance with cancer, at least internally. I do not like this dance partner, but I know where it is.

There will be times when it will lead the dance and glide me to emotionally darker regions within. Those areas where fear runs rampant, slicing you ever so swiftly with its stiletto. Cancer has already lead me in this dance, if only occasionally. For instance, waiting for tests to be done and wondering what the results will be. This leaves me more vulnerable to cancer leading me where I don’t want to go.

There will be other times when I will lead and return to the warmth of the sun-drenched regions within. So far, this has been the norm. I lead and I am in control most of the time.

There will be other times when we will take a break from the dance floor and I will return to my “knowing chair”, waiting for the music to cue the next dance with this unwelcome guest.

Redirecting Energy

I took martial arts a number of years ago – taekwondo and karate. The most effective self-defense moves are the ones where you redirect the forward motion of the attacker back onto them. It takes much less energy than sharply blocking and counter-attacking, and can be even more effective. For instance, if someone comes running at you with a knife in hand over their head, you step aside, grab their forward moving arm and redirect into them. Almost effortlessly, you win.

Similarly, I could actively battle cancer emotionally and mentally with forceful offensive combat. Or I could patiently wait for an opportunity to turn its own energies upon itself. My choosing to dance with cancer is my way of waiting for such an opportunity.

The End Game

While going through the physical aspects of cancer, I will continue this dance. It will free up the energy I will need in other areas such as my family, my work and activities just for me. The physical part of the journey may tap into the energy reserves, so it is even more important that I use what I have very wisely.

Eventually, the cancer cells will leave my body. The treatments will do their job and cancer will exit. But what about the dance?

Off in the corner, there is another partner waiting to step up. This is a physically and emotionally healthy part of me waiting to return. At just the right time, after the physical treatments are done, this partner will tap cancer on the shoulder and step in as my new partner.

And then the next dance will begin …