I have just discovered that the word cancer is a much more dimensional word that previously thought. I used to think it 2 dimensional—that it had a kind of flatness to it. And then a few weeks ago I decided it 1 dimensional: a single line leading from one thing to another like a horribly inevitable chain reaction: warped cells>bad health>seizure>brain surgery>temporary loss of left side>chemo and radiation>for most, inevitable death. The 2nd dimension would occasionally show itself in the humorous, life, or faith affirming moments, but it was mostly 1 dimensional there for awhile. Now I find cancer to be perhaps 3 dimensional. Apparently, you can have it, and still walk around like an (almost) normal person. Also, its complicated enough to confuse the medical profession into calling it different names at different times. Even though its really the same thing as before, it looked different at separate times. Yes, complicated or multi-dimensional, but not necessarily manipulative or, even malicious, as I once thought.
A dimension I learned about just today: I woke up feeling tired, more so than I’ve felt in at least a week or two. (But I’m supposed to be suddenly better, aren’t I?) Friday was a busy day for me, both physically and emotionally. After the good news that I don’t have to start chemo and radiation anytime soon (at least in the near future, or until my cancer decides to show its true face), I seemed to almost immediately make the assumption that I would be able to handle any physical stresses that my body used to take on a daily basis. My bill of health seemed clean for a brief and tantalizing moment. (Think of the Greek Tantalus, always reaching for what he desires and being doomed to never actually touch it... an awful fate indeed.) I am actually walking away with a much tidier bill of health, but it has abruptly occurred to me today that I did after all only have brain surgery about a month ago. What is it about a doctor’s pronouncement that makes the patient’s body believe so easily in a complete reversal? Once again, cancer confounds me. How creative my little parasitic star-shaped cells seem just now.