Lessons From an Unexpected Cancer Scare

I recently had a cancer scare. I went to my primary care doctor who did an exam, found a lump and recommended that I get a mammogram immediately. I felt like I had been smacked in the face by an invisible person. The following day, at the earliest available appointment, I had my mammogram and an ultrasound. The radiologist didn’t find anything benign or suspicious – the lump turned out to be a cyst.

While those are very much bullet points from those three days – what I want to talk about is what I learned from that experience. I know there are many rosie readers who have had similar experiences, or know someone who has. I am certainly grateful that I received the news that I did, and I have an entirely new appreciation for those who didn’t.

I was sitting in the back waiting room in my blue robe, with my jeans sticking out and my hair in a claw clip. At that time, it was just me an older lady to my right. She was elegant, even in her blue robe. We sat there in silence, a terrible country song playing from the speaker in the middle of the ceiling. I glanced from my thumbs to the door of the dressing room, and back.

I thought about rosie. What would rosie say? I thought about all the advice on this blog – particularly a recent one on choosing to not be afraid. READ IT HERE

That post was so meaningful for me, because it’s true that there are things out there that are inherently scary, but they’re going to be there whether you’re afraid of them or not.

I was there, whether I was afraid or not.

I try to take too much responsibility sometimes, but also, sometimes things just happen. Maybe I attracted this to myself, and maybe things just happen. I showed compassion for myself during that moment. And, in the spirit of rosie, I allowed myself to feel my feelings within the boundaries that I would choose to be okay – either way. And I allowed myself to cry.

I didn’t want to borrow trouble, because I hadn’t even been called back yet. I also couldn’t ignore that it was a very emotional experience.

Then, I heard a faint “excuse me”, it was the lady to my right. “Are you okay?” she asked,

I told her I was just a little scared, and she asked me about what happened.

As I told her what happened, she came over and sat right next to me. The very first thing I noticed about her was her calm energy, she felt peaceful and immediately made me feel more calm.

We’ll call her Mira; she was probably in her sixties somewhere, and had perfect makeup. She took it upon herself to come over to me, and remind me to be positive. She told me she was planning a vacation with her son the following week, and she would be going. While I actually don’t remember everything she said, her main idea was that if something is going to happen – you can’t sit around and worry about it.

What I remember most about Mira was her spirit; this woman was sitting next to me in this waiting room for some potentially devastating news – and she was glowing. She had faith that everything was going to be okay; she chose to feel that way. Mira also acknowledged some darker thoughts that she wrestled with, then she said “you can’t just skip to the end”.

And she’s right, you can’t just skip to the end – because you don’t know what it is. I think any of us would have those thoughts, at least to some degree in a situation like that – and, I think that’s when you have to have the most faith in yourself to choose to see it differently.

I believe that Mira was my gift from the universe that day – that little bit of encouragement when I needed it; and a reminder of who I am. She showed me kindness, and it was deeply appreciated.

Acts of kindness like that can be quite profound. She could have remained quiet, but she chose to show love instead. It’s times like these where it’s so apparent that we are all the same. My new friend, and all of the different women that were in the facility that day – we were all in there, together.

The people in there were all different, they could not have been more different. As more people filtered in, and as I looked around, it really put things into perspective. We are all just, human. I don’t mean to be blunt, but we all are going to meet an end someday. In that waiting room, walked women of different economic backgrounds, social, and ethnic backgrounds, all with the same enduring face. The same feelings of uncertainty, and anxiety, and most importantly – the same feelings of hope.

When we were in there, we were all the same.

How would you live your life if you viewed everyone as your equal?

What if you had nothing to prove?

This blog talks a lot about directing your focus to things that matter, and are of value, and bring you happiness. I had a bit of a traumatic 24 hours between doctor visits, and there was still something more important than that.

The kindness that I felt that showed me I wasn’t alone. The hope and love that was shared by someone who was hope and love, herself. The real unity that is found in acknowledging we are all human.

The delicate questions you ask yourself when you consider the entirety of your life.

These are all valuable lessons. There is a lot going on in the world right now, and several valid reasons to be afraid. You may be struggling with news of a diagnosis, or in fear of something outside, but if they’re going to happen – it’s up to you to choose how you respond. You get to show yourself how resilient you are, how brave you are and how capable you are of handling anything life has to throw at you. You choose.

Choose hope, like the women in the facility that day. The truth is, the human spirit is much stronger than anything there is to be afraid of.

Want more content like this? Subscribe to the newsletter for more insights on the journey to learning, growing and living in your authenticity.

If you found value in this post, share it with your friends!