January 21, 2013 | Wouldn't Change a Thing

If you could go back and change something, what would it be?

The question has been meandering around my mind recently. Would I have not used my cell phone in Togo? Would I have not gone for the summer in Togo when the tumor began growing? Perhaps that would spare this pain. Going even further, would I not have gone to the US at all? Perhaps if I had stayed home I would have been healthier and not exposed to whatever environmental trigger caused it to begin. Would I have gone into the hospital at the first headache? Would I eat more anti-carcinogenic foods, or stringently follow books on cancer prevention?

I wouldn’t.

Cancer sucks. It’s treatment sucks. Being rendered infertile sucks. But to be honest, clichés aside, I do believe the whole thing is an invaluable lesson. Nothing else would have forced me to move back to New Zealand for a year or caused me to slow down and contemplate what really matters in life. Before, I may have been reading books about slowing down and the global slow movement, but living slowly was simply a sideline activity in a busy, driven life. Since, I’ve never been so aware of the love and support that surrounds James and me, and my cynicism has been gently replaced by a faith and hope in humanity.

I have always struggled with vulnerability (this trait inherited genetically). My lecturer in a Personal and Exploratory Writing course last semester would discuss with me about why I put up walls of armour in life and in writing, and tend to try to be and appear strong and avoid conflict both within and inter-personally. It’s true, I’m no good at fighting, and usually don’t see the point in conflict. It’s also true that for the past three years I probably appeared as some strong young woman out conquering the world, immune to fear and loneliness.

World traveling and skydiving and all those things don’t make a person brave. They do help one develop bravery, and for something such as bravery to intentionally be developed there must be a perceived lack. Perhaps I was trying to prove something. Perhaps I was trying to be something I wasn’t. Perhaps I had forgotten what life is all about, got caught up in the race for success and saving the world without stopping to take a deep breath…perhaps. Don’t get me wrong, my old life was absolutely wonderful and I don’t ever want to deny that. But in this new chapter, I am grateful to take part in the lower levels of life…in the pain that millions are suffering each day that I never truly understood, in the despair that many women feel worldwide when unable to have children.

And there’s a lot more to learn. I don’t know what I will think looking back from within the jagged tracks of chemotherapy. Perhaps I will scoff at the idea of being grateful for the situation that cancer presents. In many ways, I have a long way to go. This is a journey I’m deeply grateful for, and profoundly thankful that I get to share it with the ones I love. Some people find the love of a God during illness, but I am now a student of the love of humanity…. and I wouldn’t change a thing.