To Tell Or Not To Tell…(7.16)

Title: ‘Conversation.’

Once I got the diagnosis and having made the decision on how I would follow my treatment, the next big decision was whether or not to tell my family. I am sure many people who get a serious diagnosis ponder this: who to tell, when to tell, how to tell, and who not to tell also. I know of some cases in the past that people did not want to share their diagnosis with anyone outside their immediate family. The ‘Big C’, as some would rather call it, was such a scary monster that it brought with it secrecy and was shrouded in a lot of mystery and none of it deemed any good. There is still a lot of fear and anxiety from the knowledge that a loved one has cancer. But nowadays it’s more of a gradual dosage depending on the stage (4), the variety (pancreatic, leukemia) and, of course, whether or not it is aggressive, a rare form, etc.

Nevertheless, no one likes the idea of cancer treatment, especially when it involves chemotherapy and radiation. For all these reasons I, too, had to ponder whether or not I wanted my siblings and my extended family to know. To begin with, we all live spread out across the world, three countries. Secondly, my brother lost his wife and his son less than a year ago. Everyone is dealing with something and most of all they would feel compelled to come and take care of me in Oaxaca.

But the overriding reason why I didn’t want to tell them was how they would react to the news and how it would affect me both in the short term and in the long term. My brother’s son Teddy was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and when my brother called me in Oaxaca to tell me the news, I was in shock but I held on to my faith and I began to nag God and Jesus– I was not praying because I was focused on the fact that it was stage 4 and that doctors had told Teddy he had a few months at best with the most aggressive treatment. Naturally I was anxious and frightened so I was pleading with God. Although I do believe that God is so gracious and compassionate that He hears our plea and sometimes the answer may not be what we expect. That would be the will of God to fulfill the purpose of God. But praying as in begging because I was afraid was not exactly prime faith.

In faith we trust that God hears our ask. It need not be begging, although God is not offended with that. It need be like a child asking a loving Father, Do this for me. Like I said, the answer may not be what we want or what we expect, but during our prayer we are changed. There is a transformation that happens in our soul, a level of trust, a healing balm, a state of peace all these overflow in us when we ask in earnest and with a humble heart trusting that God’s love and mercy is from everlasting to everlasting. 

Back to my decision to tell my family. What brought me to the point of allowing myself to be vulnerable and to share my lowest point not just with my family but with my friends, colleagues, and even the world, is that my perspective shifted from making this diagnosis about me to making it about the Glory of God. I had been asking, praying, soliciting, entreating God to use me for His Divine purpose. I had been saying, I want to Glorify You. Then here’s an opportunity for God to show His glory not just in healing me but in walking with me and in holding me.

I accepted being stripped bare (shedding pride, control and decorum) to simply be who I am becoming in this process (frail, sickly and vulnerable). After that, how to break the news to my family was more my concern. I told my best friend, my soul mate and my family on the phone and I just told her without any sugar coating. It was not that I didn’t care how she’d feel, but I knew she had resilience that came from our shared faith. Our pact has always been to be honest with one another no matter how hard the facts, how bad the news. Then I agonized for several weeks how I’d tell my brother and sister and my cousins. I did not want to do it over the phone. I just thought from my own experience that that would increase the blow. Traveling to the US had proved difficult because I was very sick and feeling weak. In hindsight it could have been that I too was slowly digesting the diagnosis and its implications. I was worried about how they would react. More likely I was also concerned about the fact that my perspective on the matter was not merely love but rooted in fate. I had a lot of agency and I was speaking life to my cells and my lungs.

I was also listening to what the Holy Spirit was telling me. My intuition said that there is a long road ahead, this is a new chapter in my life, but it is not the final chapter. This process is the fulfillment of God’s plan for me and also God’s response to my prayer that He uses me to bring people closer to Him and that He is glorified. In my healing God is glorified in my resilience, He is glorified in my having peace that surpasses all understanding. God is glorified– There rose in me a knowingness that I’ll be OK and that God is at work on my behalf fighting against the forces not only that try to separate me from the love of God, but also against the forces that are at work to prevent God’s glory from being seen. The Holy Spirit breathes life into me each day and no matter if physically I have a hard day or not, I am at peace, without fear and simply walking one step at a time knowing that God adores my steps. As siblings go my brother and I are very different in our outlook. His brand of faith is more quasi scientific and mine is fundamentalist although I hesitate to use the term because it has many negative implications because of previous actions by others.

What I’m trying to say is that my brand of faith rules out science or worldly burdens, platforms, mechanisms and schisms as being anathema to my following Christ and placing all of my trust in God and God alone. When I go to the doctor or take medication I still put God as the head and the center of my action. I do not give credit to the medication but to the power of the Holy Spirit, the love of God and the work of Jesus Churst who raised Lazarus from the dead. 

So my brother and I had that conversation yesterday. The conversation that feels like a ceasefire negotiation while the war rages on. Sound familiar? Well, my brother was focused on what lung cancer does, based on previous experience of people he cared for and who lost the battle (his son, several close friends). I, on the other hand, focused on not first getting better but being more than a person who is coughing, losing weight and walking funny.

My brother, Tamrat, was frightened that something sudden and drastic might happen on my way to Mexico. He insisted I need to be accompanied by someone. I’m thinking I’ll be on a wheelchair, my companion will be walking. I didn’t see myself getting sick on the plane to the point of needing someone else to speak for me or to arrange an ambulance. Furthermore, when I begin treatment, and the gravity of the treatment regimen is not lost on me, I do not anticipate need round the clock care by family members. My brother is convinced that he has to schedule one member after another to come and look after me. Needless to say that conversation got heated and we both realized that we must find some middle ground to end the discussion. No cease fire yet and I’m pondering my talking points and praying for wisdom and a gentle approach.