Cancer Made Me Whole
The dirt intended to bury me is now the mountain I stand on.
I was diagnosed in September of 2017, which oddly was the month and year that I had decided I would start to pursue music again. September 2017 was the end of three years, very symbolic for me of resurrection. Three days in the tomb like Jesus, three days in the belly of the whale like Jonah, and then a resurrection. I needed this time for healing, for rest, and I really believed that if I was faithful for that time, that September would come quickly, and I would fly.
You can imagine the ear-ringing, head-reeling confusion when I got the news. My three hidden years were over, so where was my gold medal? I thought that September would be a resurrection for me, but it turns out that my hardest test was just beginning.
Everything happened so fast. It was only a few weeks since I had gotten the news, but I was too sick to be funny, or to be interesting. I was too tired to be at the right parties, or show up to church. My lungs weren’t strong enough to sing. I lost 25 pounds, I lost my hair. This little thing called “chemo brain” made me a little slow at thinking, and remembering. I had lost all the things I had used as bait for friendship, for affirmation, for love.
What happened next was a miracle. When I was locked away in bed, people remembered me. They visited, and brought food, and mailed me packages. When I wasn’t pretty anymore, my husband still called me darling and kissed me softly. When I was unable to work, the money came in, so much more than enough. Amazing women banded together to clean my house each week, and church members showed up at our house with hot dinner several nights a week. Our refrigerator was overflowing.
I was crippled of every exterior thing, but somehow I was seen and loved more honestly than I ever thought possible. In a time when I should have been poor, I was richer than I ever have been. I should have been lonely, but there were friends from all seasons of my life, all over the U.S. writing to me, and checking in. I should have been defeated, but every day, I was renamed. I was called words like, warrior, fierce, brave, resilient, an inspiration, a joy.
I was saw with my eyes a depth of commitment, sacrifice, and friendship that I thought was only make-believe. It’s the white stag of unconditional love. I was seeing with my own eyes what we all long to see. All of us hope somewhere deep that this kind of love does exist--the kind that you don’t have to earn or maintain. This is why I am honored to walk through a season of cancer. Because not everyone gets the opportunity to see what I saw. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for they will see God.
When I should have doubted God’s nearness, there was proof too tangible to be denied. He wrote me notes in your handwriting, with ink and paper. The packages came in the mail for months and didn’t stop. I was remembered. He made me dinner with your recipes, and delivered it with your knock on my door. I opened his letters with my own hands, I tasted his food with my own tongue. His gifts were left on my doorstep. God himself came near. Do not underestimate the power of small efforts of kindness.
This is what He must have meant when He said, “surely goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life.” Because goodness and mercy have been in my shadow, even here in this valley, following behind me like lost dogs.
I am honored. So honored to have seen with my human eyes, such extravagance, such abundance. It’s what we all wish to see, what we wish most to believe in. I have seen with my own eyes the white stag of unconditional love. And it’s not possible anymore, to return to how I was before. I have seen too much.
What a wild turn this story has taken. What was meant to destroy has somehow brought healing. I should have been fractured, but by a miracle of God and his family on earth, I am complete. I have lost 25 pounds of my body; my hair; soon, my breasts; and by the time this is over, I will have lost more than a year’s time killing this thing off.
Even with the losses that I have taken, I will walk out with more than I started with. Each shovel full of dirt was intended to bury me, but instead, it has become the mountain that I’m standing on.
-Jane Marczewski aka NIGHTBIRDE
