LIFE LESSONS: LIVING WITH CANCER
It’s been a while since I last wrote a post. My ink just seemed to dry up. Not so much my thoughts, though, which continue to run a mile a minute. So much of what I wrote about months ago was what it is like dying with cancer. Today, I feel the inspiration to write what it’s like living with cancer.
Recently a beloved relative of mine was having a hard time seeing me in such physical pain and, in a moment of desperation started to curse the cancer. In that moment, as much my heart empathized with their heartfelt intention, something just didn’t feel right. Upon further reflection, I realized that cancer has become somewhat of an intimate companion over these last few months. At times an annoying, pestering, painful companion — yes; but a companion nonetheless. It’s like a younger sibling who you might be really critical of and even lose your temper with, but feel very protective toward when someone else is critical of. Cancer has even become one of the most important teachers in my life.
Indeed, cancer has forced me to genuinely do something that all the masters of Islamic spiritual insight say is a must on the journey to God: frequently remember death or in the words of the blessed Prophet (s) “remember the destroyer of worldly pleasures.” Not a day goes by that I don’t seriously consider my mortality. And not a day goes by but that the pain of cancer makes me wonder if this is my last day or the beginning of the end. At times, I must admit, this contemplation had been dark and morbid. I felt like death was following me everywhere like my own shadow. But, quickly the contemplation has become a source of light, a proper prism through which to view life’s happenings. A deep awareness of mortality has taught me to be truly grateful and joyous for life’s blessings. It has also pushed me to “be where God commands me to be, and to avoid where God prohibits me to be” physically, psychologically, and spiritually. And in this sense, cancer has cured me of certain outer ethical and inner spiritual ailments that I’ve carried with me for too long.
Cancer has taught me something very profound about the Qur’anic encouragement to aspire to “beautiful patience” (sabran jameela). To hold myself back from negative thoughts and feelings and push myself toward positivety when experiencing so much physical distress has opened my eyes as to why prophetic patience is as praised in the Qur’an. To smile and to try to be cheerful through it all is a valuable lesson that this companion is teaching me.
As a chaplain, I was always taught that you can’t assume how someone is based on how they look or how they sound. Boy, have I learned that lesson in a far more intimate way through illness. After the rough couple of months of chemotherapy when my hair and beard started to grow back and voice got a bit stronger, many beloveds would exclaim with joy “you look good; you sound good!” These words of encouragement come from such a good place, but they are so painful to hear because it doesn’t mirror how I’m feeling. In that moment it’s hard to feel that anyone knows what you’re really going through. It’s a lonely place to be. The experience has reminded me that it’s so important to give people the space to tell us how they’re feeling rather than assuming. It’s important to remember that we usually see people — whether online or in person — at their best, not at their worst.
I’ve learned through my family that when a person becomes sick it’s not only a test for the one who has fallen ill; It is a test of patience, strength, and character for the whole household. And, similarly, illness is not only a purification and elevation for the sick, it is such for all the caretakers. Even my three year old daughter is acutely aware of my illness and is always trying to help out, from walking me over to my bed to giving me a hug just when I need one, learning from such a tender age the art of compassion and caregiving. The whole experience has taught me the importance of being around the sick and suffering as a way of cultivating one’s own character and nearness to God.
One of the hardest lessons that cancer is still teaching me is the art of letting go. Everyday I can’t help but imagine what my final moments may be like; my body being washed; the funeral prayer; my body being placed in the grave. Along with those thoughts, I can’t help but wonder how those I love and what I cherish will continue to be after I’m gone. I accept that leaving the abode of this world is inevitable and that the world will move on, rather quickly, is also inevitable. Only the long, painful, contemplative days of living with cancer could give me such clarity.
Cancer too is a creation of God’s and He has so wisely decreed to place it in my body. I am not battling cancer. I am struggling with cancer and accepting that it has much to teach me in life’s journey.
The dhikr that has given my heart the most comfort and clarity over the course of my illness translates as follows and I leave you, for now, with it:
There is no god except God, the One who has no partner. To God belong all the dominions, to God belong all praise, the One who gives and takes life, the One who has power over all things.
