Cancer Is Not All You Are
Today, here in beautiful Mt Desert Island, it is easy to put cancer in the back closet of my mind. Instead, I sleep late and awaken to a high tide, the water so close to the cottage that, from upstairs, lying down, I see no land. If the ground rocked or swayed, it would be a boat. Coffee is rich and slowly savored; breakfast eventually follows, and it s beautiful bowl of local berries, topped with local yogurt and granola. As I eat, I can watch the birds and thetrees and my dog hunting furiously furiously for a tiny piece of bone that must surely be left somewhere in the tall gras
Later we venture out to te nearest town, Southwest Harbor, to do the marketing, and I marvel once again that choosing dinner and visiting the bakery for bread, the fish truck for mussels and crab, and the overpriced small market for island produce is a treat--not a chore. After a lunch of lobster rolls, we canoe in our pond and then take our dog (who has given up on that bone) for a long walk through the woods to a nearby stone beach. Cancer seems far away.
This essay by Karin Diamond from the Huffington Post is remarkable, beautifully written and stunning it is grace. She is a young woman with treatment-resistant Hodgkins Disease. She briefly describes having endured multiple chemotherapies, two stem cell transplants, and now clinical trials previously inflicted only on rats. She knows that she will, short of a miracle, die from her illness. And yet she writes without bitterness or anger or even particular sadness. She recognizes that she has a marvelous life, and she ends with a sentence that knocks me out: Read it. Please.