Into the Lions' Den

B"H, 

Puellam Meam magis quam oculos meos amo*. 

There are those who say that it takes courage to be a cancer patient.  I don't know... I don't think so necessarily.  It does take something.  It takes the same something that life in general demands of us all.  Perhaps the "something-list" of essential attributes would include understanding, cooperation, hard work, fortitude, endurance, partnership, love of life, and FAITH.  I did not choose the challenges of this path.  Do any of us choose to be born?   But it was the path I was travelling.  Something had seemed wrong for quite a while, so, when the diagnosis of cancer arrived I did experience a sense of relief.  Thank G-d, I am not crazy.  I did not, however, feel full of courage.  

Who are the people who are filled with courage?  Those folks who walk into the lions' den knowing their destination and its dangers are certainly courageous.   Don't you think?  





I will never be a Navy SEAL.  But, there is a fellow named Eric Greitens who was a Navy SEAL among many other things like a Rhodes Scholar and a passionate thinker and doer.  

There was a man from New York state named Dr. Tom Little.  He was an eye doctor.  An example of courage, faith, and the kiss of G-d, he had been living and working in Afghanistan with his family for decades.  

There is a love poem by Terence that says,*"I love my girl more than my eyes."  It is typically translated as, "I love my girl more than life."  In the ancient world blindness was utter devastation.  Life and sight were completely bonded together.  But, there is more than one kind of blindness.  Lack of physical vision is perhaps the first type that comes to mind.  Others would include a refusal to "see" reality... a refusal to be grateful... a refusal to participate in the passions of life.  


Mr. Tom, as he was known in the small, remote settlements of Afghanistan, made pancakes and saved sight.  What a gift to those folks who knew his kindness and his help!  He and his colleagues had courage.  What a life... what inspiration... I will never travel to Afghanistan.  That is not my path.  But this one doctor, this one man, inspires me to build a vibrant path where I do find myself.  


Though we never met, I thank you, Dr. Tom Little, of blessed memory, for your good works and your inspiration.  Thank you very much.  


When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer my path included the "big guns", i.e. surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation therapy.  At the beginning of the chemotherapy -- my first dosing --  my nurses wanted to see me the next day.  Dutifully, I showed up at clinic for the interview and check up.  So many questions... how did I feel?         ... what happened? ... what did I do? ... "Well," they said, "you did okay.  And we know the doctor (my husband) so you are good to go. You'll be fine."  


"I'm glad you know the doctor," I replied as the nurse was halfway out of the exam room.  "But, I don't live with the doctor, I live with Sam."  The nurse paused and returned to the room.  


"Tell me about Sam," she said as she placed my patient folder back onto the counter top.  


"Well, one would think that the husband of a woman going through cancer treatment would become more attentive, more tender, more available, more everything!  But, in fact, Sam has become less attentive.  He has gotten very busy fixing anything in the house that can be fixed with power tools.  Midnight, 1am, 2am, ... if it can be fixed with a power tool, then bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz.  Who can sleep with all of that noise?!"


The nurse stood there quietly before she could speak.  Finally, finally she responded, "Anna, I have two pieces of good news for you.  First, how you get through your first dosing is very indicative of how you will get through subsequent dosings of the same drugs.  You did well, you should continue to do well.  Second, I am pleased to tell you that you are married to a normal guy.  That is what all of the ladies say."  


Wow, life is good!