Essay On Cancer

Essay On Cancer-22
Ma is nearly unflappable, a steadying force on my emotive Paps, who survived prostate cancer a decade ago.

Ma is nearly unflappable, a steadying force on my emotive Paps, who survived prostate cancer a decade ago.

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As my daughter took her final gulps of soy milk, my irritability lingered, this time directed at the person I saw in the mirror.

I realized my daughter was doing what I needed her to do. My frown smiled as I looked down and took her sippy cup.

Perhaps Ma was watching from the kitchen window as she washed dishes.

I ran inside crying about breaking my 12-year-old wrist.

She did not know they would find my cancer was metastatic, Stage 4.

She did not know that the five-year survival rate for this type of cancer is about 12 percent.She hits us with that Harriet Tubman look when we slow down.Wallowing in self-pity is a capital crime in her book.She ran warm water over it and ordered me back out to “finish the game.” Paps provided the emotional support; Ma, the resolve. By Friday afternoon, I was bundling through hospital rooms, undergoing testing and visiting doctors.In waiting rooms and while waiting in doctors’ rooms, I exchanged several emails with the editor, finalizing the essay that argued “the heartbeat of racism is denial.”.Or to be more precise, in the quiet of the day I’d worry about finishing the book, in the quiet of the sleepless night about finishing life.My focus on writing —was perhaps my way of coping with the demoralizing severity of the cancer and the overwhelming discomfort of the treatment, furiously writing and fighting, fighting and writing to heal mind and body, to heal society. In the silence I can scrutinize the collected scholarship and analysis, listen clearly to my assessments and reflections and inventions, paint their picture clearly and attractively on the canvas.She did not know that her father was likely to die.My daughter reinforced that night what my partner, Sadiqa, and Ma had formulated earlier that day.She did not know that since Thanksgiving I had been defecating blood clots almost every hour.She did not know that I had managed these symptoms and pressed on, not self-caring until my life partner saved my life by forcing me to get a colonoscopy that morning, on January 10, 2018.

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