The Greatest Gift
Cancer was the greatest thing that has ever happened for me. No, you are not reading incorrectly; I have not made a typo.
Perhaps cancer isn’t the first thing that would come to mind when one is asked to reflect upon the most significant, positively life-changing experience (perhaps it wouldn’t even be last); rather, it more likely is something which does not cross one’s mind as a consideration at all.
Certainly, this perspective of mine was not always the case, and especially not during the seven month treatment period and the years of recovery that followed.
However, when I reflect upon this question — and I have done so countless times over the years — there was never a doubt in my mind that my battle with cancer was the greatest thing that ever happened for me.
Allow me to share my experience and why I now hold this seemingly-obscure view.
The Great Shock
In November 2013, the world appeared to be my ‘oyster’; I was where I thought I wanted to be.
Going down the generic checklist for men living in modern society, it certainly felt like I was on the path to fulfilling my ‘dreams’, of becoming a ‘man of success’:
• I was physically fit and healthy
• I was reaping the aesthetic benefits of an active, physical health regime
• I was in a long-term, committed relationship
• I had an excellent job and in position for continual progression at a big, reputable corporation
• My partner and I had just purchased our first property together
Tick, tick and tick.
Everything was coming up roses for me; what more could I ask for?
It was at this ‘peak’ period of my life where I received the greatest shock of my life: completely out of left-field, I was diagnosed with cancer.
As mentioned, I felt as if I was in peak physical health and considered myself someone who lived a healthy lifestyle, so there were no signs or symptoms which led to the diagnosis.
Rather, it was merely a small, persistent trace of blood I found in my phlegm for a period which prompted me to see my physician for an examination; the result certainly was not something that I ever could have imagined.
I was 27 years old at the time and did not know much about cancer at all, nor had I been impacted by it in my life, either directly or indirectly, so the months of treatment which followed certainly felt like an overwhelmingly-frightening and confusing whirlwind of emotions.
Almost immediately after the diagnosis, I was thrust into the world of oncology, radiotherapy, and cancer therapy; definitely one of the most challenging periods of my life.
The Great Awakening
What a change in perspective you are given when your sense of mortality is thrown in your face like a pitcher’s fastball.
Although the treatment process was challenging, day by day, I felt my perspective on life slowly but sure altering, ever so slightly, right before me.
I suppose the many physical reminders I was receiving every day helped. From having a feeding tube inserted directly into my stomach, having the tube hanging out of my abdomen for half a year, the burning pain which intensified each day as the effects of every back-to-back radiotherapy session compounded upon the last, the take-home chemotherapy canister strapped to my left bicep for three months, the two inch scar left on my abdomen as a result from surgery complications in removing the feeding tube, the sudden change and decline in substance of my daily meals from solids to liquids, and subsequently, the drastic plummeting of my body weight and physical appearance. These were among the more immediately memorable reminders.
It was becoming quite clear that my life was not what I had perceived up until the day of my diagnosis; that the life I had been living was not wholly my own, but actually a generic identity that had been built by society to form part of and fit into a larger whole, the great progressive machine of civilisation.
Reflection on my life to date, I have always felt ‘ill-fitting’ within this box of conformity, that I never belonged on this path that everyone wanted me to walk down, that I thought I must follow.
The character Morpheus from the movie “The Matrix” captures my state of mental unrest perfectly when he said:
“What you know you can’t explain, but you feel it. You’ve felt it your entire life, that there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is, but it’s there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad.”
This nagging, unrelenting feeling — sometimes more intense than others — was like I had a stone in my shoe which I could never get rid of.
Per the ‘harsh critic’ archetype that has been conditioned into me as part of this ‘boxed’ existence, I had always guilted myself for having this rebellious spirit within me, that although each step that I took down this path didn’t seem right to me, I was too weak and needed to ‘buck-up’ and simply get on with it.
It was not until the cancer experience that I realised that I was pushing a boulder up a hill, not because I necessarily wanted to, but because I had been told to, when all I really wanted and needed was to step aside and let the boulder go.
It is common today that people who suffer some form of trauma will recover and have a completely different outlook on life.
For me, it has been the most beautiful awakening experience which has opened entirely new doors in my life, pathways which I never even knew existed.
Conversely, however, it is also a shame that many must endure such trauma in order to break free from the shackles they subject themselves to; certainly, I am no exception.
The Great Realisation
Since overcoming my challenge with cancer, I have been on a roller-coaster journey within, climbing the spiral staircase of self-realisation, self-actualisation, and ego-destruction.
Through actively seeking, self-educating, reflection, introspection, pondering, and heightening of awareness, I’ve been riding a tumultuous wave in the vast ocean of life and have come to many profound realisations in my life.
I have challenged many of the demons which form part of my ego and identity, identities which I, myself, through my personal life experiences, have built and been fortified by the might of time and routine.
This process has been extremely difficult for me, as I am fundamentally challenging all the beliefs and values which have been conditioned into who I thought I was up until this point in my life.
It is analogous to discovering that the sky is not blue but actually green, though I clearly see it as blue, and I have known it to be nothing but blue for as long as I have lived.
Aside from the beliefs themselves, there are so many other layers of complexity which intertwine and flow-on from such an exercise of deep self-unpacking; i.e. deviating from societal expectation, the effects to those people around you, releasing the grip of structure and surrendering to the flow of creativity, integrating your authentic expression into the rigidity of modern civilisation, etc.
My realisation is this: this path has been extremely challenging, and I genuinely believe that I’ve only been able to, firstly, make the decision to throw myself down the rabbit hole, and, secondly, to ceaselessly march forward without looking back, only because of my experience with cancer.
It is like trying to topple a massive iron wall using nothing but a wooden toothpick. It is a task which seems overwhelmingly-impossible, and even amid this titanic undertaking, after eroding fractions of a millimetre from the wall, the self-doubt is palpable, and there is not a glimpse of any ‘light at the end of the tunnel’.
As I reflect upon my journey, to take the grand leaps I have made, the colossal obstacles I’ve overcome, and to face the ones I am chipping away at to this day, I see that, sadly, the person who I was before the diagnosis would not have had the strength enough to endure this journey.
He would not have been courageous enough to challenge his own beliefs, not brave enough to continue this fight despite the odds being overwhelmingly against him; he would not have had the power to persevere and continue to conquer, no matter the situation.
My old self was too afraid to show his real face, too scared to step out from behind his masked-identity, too fearful of what people may say or think to live his own authentic existence.
If only he had simply the courage to reach out and be transparent, to honour honesty and authenticity, to challenge what goes against his intuition, to follow the purity of his heart.
