The first step in choosing to live was not giving cancer the power to kill me. Words can be very powerful and of all words in our language, CANCER is one of the scariest, most debilitating words spoken. About a week after the diagnosis I was actively working to turn devastation into hope. It was time to take the power out of “the C word”. But, what would I call it if not cancer?
The answer came in the form of a dream and a closely connected friend. A couple of weeks before the uterine cancer diagnosis, I dreamed that there was a small alien in my stomach. He looked like the old Pacman blob from one of the first video games. Like Pacman, he was sort of yellowish, but instead of being round, he was more oblong. Whereas Pacman never sported a smile, my alien houseguest had crooked, rotten teeth and was in desperate need of a dentist.
I remember wondering in my dream, "What the heck is this thing and what is he doing in my abdomen?" As I stared at him and he stared at me, I quickly realized three things:
1) He was as scared to be in my belly as I was to have him in there.
2) He was so terrified that he could get very stubborn. I knew I couldn’t force him out or bully him into leaving or he would just dig in deeper.
3) Therefore, my job was to coax him out by changing the conditions of his environment so that he could not sustain himself if he stayed. He had to want to leave.
A couple of weeks and one trip to the gynecologist later, I knew the alien in my dream had been a foreshadowing of the uterine cancer diagnosis. This strange prophecy was so unique that I told the story to one of my closest friends, Lisa. Over the years Lisa has been a receptive confidant regarding other esoteric events in my life, (including one event that involved Mother Mary and a rental car in Maui – but that’s another story). So I knew she could handle this strange disclosure. A few days after I revealed my dream to her, I received an early morning text from Lisa. She said, “I woke up at 2 am and I got a really clear download about your situation - it’s called the Uterine Space Invader!”
I laughed out loud when I read her description, and from then on, the disease was simply referred to as The Uterine Space Invader or USI for short. This uninvited guest had arrived for some reason, yet likely didn’t want to be in the unwelcome territory of my uterus any more than I wanted him there. So, it was time to find a peaceful way to escort him out. Operation USI removal was taking shape and as I’ve written in prior blogs, it included pulling this disease weed out by the roots.
This USI reference might just seem like a cute turn of phrase to deal with something as serious as cancer, and of course it is. But, the truth is, once it became The Uterine Space Invader and not cancer, guess who got her power back? Yep. Me. I started imagining that I was dealing with an annoying cartoon character versus a scary disease that kills people. Granted this cartoon character needed to be dealt with before it could multiply into a pest control problem of insurmountable proportion.
This paradigm and power shift also opened my eyes to other important nuances of language. For example, I rarely, if ever said that I actually had “the C word.” I said that I was diagnosed with cancer. It was an important distinction since one way of saying it assumes ownership and possession. Saying, “I’ve been diagnosed with this disease” removed the permanence and incapacitating feelings. I was clear that this disease would not define me any more than a car, house or job defines me. I am not any of those things.
When dealing with cancer, I learned quickly that my words mattered and that any language I used to describe my situation was informing my mind and my body of what to do next – make me healthier or more debilitated. And, viewing my disease as an alien that needed to be escorted off of the game set was about as empowering as eating a power pill and devouring Blinkey, Pinky, Inkey and Clyde, the only REAL ghosts to be frightened of in this alien/Pacman saga. (Note: I remember their names because I procrastinated on writing this blog by downloading webpacman, playing a couple games and devouring a few ghosts!)
With “the C word” back in it’s place and the power back in my court, next, I had to look at what was in my “Vice Chest” that might possibly be making the Uterine Space Invader a little too comfortable in my warm womb. Read all about it here.
In Peace,
Emily
