infiniteperspective.net

I am now running my fourth year in my battle against cancer. Compared to how I felt in 2005 and 2006 while I was still undergoing my chemotherapy and radiotherapy treatments, I’m feeling much better, more energized, more alive. I can at least play with and run after my little girl, although I always tire out first; and do a little bit of grocery shopping by myself even if I have to wear a face mask whenever I go out of the house.

But see, the thing with surviving the Big C is that the feeling of “being better” and “being able to do things normally” doesn’t always last. It’s a fickle thing, really. And like cancer, the idea of recurrence becomes a stark reality- the proverbial sword of Damocles turned tangible, palpable, touchable.

I am blessed, I suppose. The tumor that sits on my heart has shown no signs of metastasizing. But it has shown no signs of getting smaller either. Despite my apparently healthy exterior, I can’t go back to teaching or get a regular job because I palpitate at the smallest hint of stress or even at the tiniest bit of bad air and dust that gets into my system. But at least, it’s (my tumor, that is) is on a status quo, and as long as it stays that way, I’m content.

Now, prayer is my armor, and the undying belief that I will get better everyday, my anchor. I have everything to live for, after all- a daughter who still needs me and a husband who loves me wonderfully.

It’s mind over matter, I suppose. As long as my mind tells the rest of my system to be well, then it will. Ever since I got the Big C, I’ve always held on to the idea that the mind is a very powerful tool for healing. It just has to stay on top of things, otherwise, if it succumbs to the disease, then there is little hope of getting better. Sure, it takes a lot of discipline and determination, but putting the mind over matter is well worth it in the end.

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