Keep a green tree in your heart and a singing bird will come. –Chinese Proverb
Spring folds into summer like origami. My vegetable garden thrives. Potted flowers stretch toward the sun. Wildflowers, I seeded in March, burst forth in a colorful display that attracts bees. The yard hums with activity.
All this appreciation for the beauty of the natural world is tempered by my health. I have a blood cancer, multiple myeloma. The disease environment in which I live comes with complications. Some days I am awkward and self conscious as an adolescent. My skin mottles in ugly blotches, my GI tract turns somersaults, or worse, freezes solid. My body cannot be trusted. I sulk and just want to be alone.
I receive treatments aimed at reducing the damage caused by this incurable malignancy. Each month a six-hour infusion of a monoclonal antibody and immunoglobulins tamp down the damage. At home, I take low dose oral chemo along with steroids. I am alive and I am healthy… after a fashion.
I’ve come to accept my illness as part of the overall order. It is not an anomaly, a mistake, or a bad break. It is here to stay. For me, the wonder of being also glows in the murky haunts of my perishability. At times, I am afraid. Yet I am nourished, encouraged even, by my fear. I accept life with dignity similar to that exuded by my garden’s bounty. Nature transformed the promise of their seed into splendor. Why, I ask, can’t I do the same?
Is my cancer a gift? Hmm… I don’t know. I have acquaintances whose illness follows a path full of fear and pain. They might wrinkle their nose at such an assertion. Harsh lessons do not guarantee a positive metamorphosis. Nonetheless, I understand the sentiment, for my illness is not devoid of rewards.
One thing is certain: cancer puts me in contact with an emotional core that focuses my attention on what is important. I am more forgiving of others and myself. If that helps me mitigate some of cancer’s ugliness, then maybe I’ve learned something, not to mention that gardening is a lot more interesting.
John E. Smith
Hood River, Oregon
4 thoughts on “The Malignant Gardener”
I love this—so many negatives and positives juxtaposed when going though cancer. Like you, it’s hard for me to call cancer a blessing … and yet it is in so many ways! I wish I could keep all the learning and insight and peace, even in uncertainty, but just give up the pain and discomfort :). I guess nothing of worth comes without a price. Thank you for this piece—pretty much every lesson in life can be learned in a garden.
Thank you for sharing your hard won wisdom with us, John. I love Hood River. “Fighting” cancer is a popular concept, but I much prefer to view it as a journey, not a battle.
Hugs!
The inner core is what gives you strength and life takes on meaning!
Thanks for commenting Esther. Yes, it seems counter intuitive that an illness can help us find meaning in life. But that has been my experience. I enjoy weeding my garden and pondering what life is all about.