Cancer and Coming Home

There are seven splotches of blood perched on the mint green chalk-paint walls surrounding us. My bed is a mat at the base of a large slat bed, falling apart, on which two girls slept under a blasting fan. I know, the fan keeps many of the mosquitoes away, but I can't sleep with air buffeting it's recycled-warm-but-slightly-cooler air on my face. And so here I am, down here, suffocating with the mozzies, their red, itchy dinner remains lining my arms.

I fall asleep each night here, earbuds stuffed in my ears, eye mask concealing tears. “Draw Your Swords” by Angus and Julia Stone. Every night. Loud. I should be sick of it, but it sets me free into my aching imaginings.

I see them snakes come through the ground

They choke me to the bone

They tie me to their wooden chair

Here are all my songs

'cause you are... the only one....

I miss him so much. I've been wrenched away from my life. My life that I've spent so long creating and destroying, and creating again. My heart is pitted against my head, constantly. I know I should just enjoy this experience, I'm learning a lot. I know it's only three months. I know not many people get the privilege of living and working in Togo, experiencing another culture so first hand. I know I should meet more villagers. I know I should be okay with the hissing and mocking, as they know no different. And it's a 'different culture' – tread gently, smile, it's all perfect in it's own way...

And yet the tears still dry under the salty eye mask each night, as my heart longs for home. My heart doesn't like the men's hissing, my heart doesn't like the kids running after me screaming “white person.” My heart doesn't like being stuck inside concrete walls with American students, and it's not comfortable with the snakes that slither in front of my bare feet in jandals. My heart aches for home. What is home? It asks me, over and over. It's with James. I know it. But where? My head tries to tell me anywhere we are, but it doesn't quite feel right. The girls up on the creaky bed, they get to go home. Everyone else gets to. We fly back to Idaho. Yes, I miss that place more than anything, but I haven't been home in years. More tears.

***

Chills ran up my spine when I was talking to mum the other day. On Saturday night, while James and I were at a 'Castaway' party at our friend Joe's house, she had dinner with a couple she described as 'wonderful' and intelligent'. The man, she told me, was rather an expert in mind-body connection with disease. They talked cancer. (Should cancer have a capital C?) Mum told him about how my tumor started growing in Togo; “she had a different/reduced diet, a completely different climate, was on her cellphone internationally often...”

“But how did she feel?” he asks.

***

Aden was down this weekend, he was talking to my cousin Steffi, also visiting, about cancer/Cancer. “Everyone has cancerous cells growing all of the time,” he said. “It's just that sometimes our bodies, for whatever reason, suddenly aren't able to fight their growth.”

***

“Well, she missed James a lot,” my mum told the man. “And she missed me, and New Zealand...”

“And now she's back, isn't she?” he smiled. “She's home.”

Brain cancer is one of the cancers with the least known causes. I've been repeatedly told that there is no reason, that it just spontaneously occurred, that it's not genetic, not environmental, not cellphones, not dietary, not this, not that.... now I don't know anything either. I have no idea. But what I do know is that when the cancer was multiplying its little cells, my heart was conflicted. Deeply. There was a crevice between my heart and my head. I felt lost. I was pursuing success, was going to head straight into getting a PhD, was going to be a published author within the year....etc. I had no plans to ever come back to New Zealand to live. I wanted to fix the world, and its pain weighed heavily upon me. And I also know that now, my heart and my head are at peace. I feel joy emanating from my inner being. James and I have a sense of constant growth together, he is happy in a wonderful job, I have reconnected with my family and homeland. I have kept in contact with my loved ones back in Moscow, and my love for them has not faded but grown. Even the most menial tasks are beautiful. I no longer need success, but am happy if it comes along from doing what I truly want to do.

No matter if this is related to cancer or not, this is something that I wish for all people. To give up the conflict, to reconnect our heads and our hearts, to go home. There will always be things that we feel society wants us to do to be successful, but we will never taste happiness unless we are at home in ourselves. After I've treated the remaining cells, I'll begin delving deeper into the reasons for it's existence, but for now, while we 'have no idea,' I want to share this story with you in the hopes that you don't have to get cancer to feel the peace that it has brought me.