Saturday, May 11, 2013
The Bright Light of Cancer
I understand it.
All you can see -- and all, you fear anyone can see -- is that white hot light of fire. The rest of your identity exists; it just seems invisible to those who can see that explosive brightness. This is why so many struggle with who to tell, and who not to tell. If I tell this person I have cancer, will they still be able to see me. Or will they just see the cancer?
But here's the thing about novas: they slowly return to their original state. Their brightness fades, and the rest of your identity seemingly shines more clearly. It's not that I have less to say about cancer, it's just that the bright light of cancer has faded. For some cancers -- those with legitimate cures, it may fade to black, leaving only a residue of light. For the more chronic cancers, the light will stay softly on in the background, pulsing with activity from time to time.
As the light grows stronger, it will be reflected here. And when we have found a definitive cure for follicular lymphoma -- not a push-it-into-the-background-and-wait-for-it-to-return treatment, but a god's honest, it's-not-coming-back cure, then perhaps both in my identity, and in this blog, cancer will fade to black.