My Korean doctor, Cancer, Bob Dylan’s Knocking, and gratitude: Two years ago today I was diagnosed with cancer. I had had numerous symptoms and related ailments for a couple of years leading up to the day I was officially diagnosed, but none of the 12 different doctors I had consulted identified the problem as cancer. My wife and I were in a heavily pensive mood, on the way to the hospital to the results of the “punch test” (a biopsy taken by a prod being punched into the large, cherry-sized tumor growing at the root of my tongue). I don’t know why but I suddenly blurted out, “I have cancer. I know I do.” Something in me spoke so loudly and clearly that I could not ignore this intuition. So, when I sat on that hard steel stools (it was actually a cushioned chair but the moment felt hard as steel) I could was blank except for the ominous thumping in my throat from my heart. It was amplified by my breathlessness. I could not breath sitting there waiting for the doctor to turn away from his computer screen and tell me. Finally, he looked at me but not in the eyes and I asked him. “Do I have cancer?” “Yes”, he said, “you have cancer.” “Is it bad?” “Yes, it is very bad. Stage four with metastasis into your lymph gland.” The stillness and quiet after he told me that consumed the room. It was as if the whole world, my whole life was waiting for the next sound to come to break that eerie pall. That moment stretched out as slowly as the grim reaper’s crooked finger beckoning me to come hither. It was at that brittle moment that the doctor’s cell phone went off. And his ringtone was one I will never forget. “I feel like I’m knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door. Knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s door.” I was stunned aback. I couldn’t understand how an oncologist would have that song as his ringtone, but then I realized something. It was in English. This was Korea. They only like the song’s sound and that they know it is a knock, knock to come in with their call. They don’t understand the meaning of the words and so don’t realized the significance they hold to a cancer patient facing death. I can tell you, though, as I walked out of his office, I didn’t know what life was telling me. Was it a challenge or a threat?, a warning or a call to vigilance?, a sign to give up or a notice to keep my faith focused and strong? And so here I am two years later. Alive. Cancer-free. Recovering from the treatment that killed the cancer that almost killed me. Sometimes I still wonder about the meaning of that experience, especially when, by chance, I hear that song. But most of the time I am too busy living to give it power over me. What else I have to say is this. Before I had cancer I gave little consideration to those I knew had it, died from it, or survived it. I had no idea went they went through, what it is like to live through and survive the attempts of Death to break them by its terrible edge. Knowing this now I say to you all that we are each other’s angels. We are all brothers and sisters in humanity. The people who cared for me, who saved me by their goodness and kindness, by their knowledge and medical technology, their love and tolerance were and are the angels I will never forget. It is a paltry bit for me to say thank you and not do something in recompense. I know that the most I can give is what I have the most of and that is my passion for truth, learning, and creativity. These are the fibers of my being, the blood of my heart, and the light of my soul and it is my daily commitment to do my best with them to extend them as justly and fervently to humanity as I am capable of doing.
Posted on: Fri, 20 Sep 2013 01:21:19 +0000
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