You are not alone.
Below is a small excerpt from my book about the moment after I was diagnosed with chronic blood cancer and told I’d have a take a mild dose of chemo for the rest of my life. I share it to let you know that you are not alone.
If you’ve just been diagnosed with cancer, we see you and honour you. It is hard. It is scary. You have every right to feel the fear you are feeling. Fear gripped me too. After the tender moment with my children outlined in the excerpt below, what transpired next were years of fear-driven attempts to ‘heal’. You may be in that place too. That is okay. Go through whatever you have to go through.
The only thing I will say to you is what I wish I had heard at the time of my diagnosis: there is a part of yourself that isn’t scared. That part of yourself is already healed. It is hidden deep within, but it is there. It is always at peace, cancer or no cancer. And it is the truest, most authentic part of you. My prayer for you is that, as well as healing your body, you also search for and find the aspect of yourself that is free. That is where liberation lies. That is why Thrivers Ark exists. Big love to you. Lara x
After returning my husband to work, I drove home in an almost numb state. I felt nothing. Nothing. Nothing except a rising sense of weariness. I stood for a long moment at my front door. I took one last deep breath before inserting the key. Hold it in. Hold it in. ‘Hi, guys,’ I bellowed as I entered the front door and dumped my bag at my feet. Zoe’s three-year-old legs came bounding down the hallway.
‘Mummy!’ she squealed. I kneeled to catch her as she jumped into my arms.
‘Hi, my darling,’ I whispered in her ear, kissing her blonde curly locks.
Our babysitter followed down the hall, holding baby Evan on her hip.
‘How did it go?’ she said. Her gentle eyes met mine. I looked away.
‘It was okay,’ I said with a lump in my throat. ‘They just need to do a bone marrow biopsy next.’
‘Oh, Lara, that is scary.’
‘I’m okay. How were the kids?’ Hold it in. Hold it in. I stood up. Zoe wrapped herself around my leg.
‘They were great, but I think Evan is hungry now. I tried to give him some mashed banana. I think he wants Mumma’s milk.’
Instinctively, I reached my arms out for him.
‘Come here, my bubba,’ I said, bringing him into my chest and kissing him on his cheeks.
‘And we folded the laundry when Evan was asleep. Didn’t we, Zo?’
‘I helped too, Mumma!’
‘Oh, thank you so much, sweetie,’ I said, patting her on the head.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered to our babysitter.
‘Seriously, call me anytime. You’ve got a lot going on here,’ she softly said, trying to make eye contact with my darting eye. Part of me longed to tell her my fears; part of me was scared to. I never revealed my vulnerabilities, believing it would make me appear weak. I locked the thoughts of fear and sadness away in the vault along with the rest of my true self.
‘Thanks so much, but I’m fine. You head home. I might put some TV on for Zoe while I feed Evan.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Really, I’m okay. I’m really grateful for you being here. I actually don’t know what I’d do without you.’ That was the only true statement I had said to her.
With The Wiggles blasting from the television, I sat down next to Zoe and pulled her in close to me, kissing her on the head before bringing Evan to my breast. His mouth opened like a delicate flower and connected to my nipple.
I looked down at my baby boy and watched him softly, effortlessly suck. His cheek appeared seamlessly attached to my nipple. He knew exactly what to do. Love and fear exploded in that moment. The tears rolled and rolled down my cheeks. Don’t let this be happening. Please, don’t let this be happening.
‘Please pass me a tissue, Zoe love,’ I said, wiping snot from my nose with the back of my free hand.
Zoe looked up at my blotchy, tear-soaked face with concern in her eyes. ‘Are you okay, Mummy?’
‘The tissue, darling,’ I said, reaching my arm out for the box with Evan still sucking away. ‘I’m okay, sweetheart.’ I wiped my nose and turned my face to meet hers. ‘It’s happy tears because I just love you both so much.’
Zoe jumped up and kissed me softly on the cheek. ‘Love you too, Mumma,’ she said before turning back to the TV.
Looking down at them both with watery eyes, I prayed. To God, to Jesus, to the universe, to the angels – whoever would listen. Don’t take me away from this. Don’t take me away from my children.
About the Author
Lara Charles is a Thrivers Ark teacher, writer, cancer thriver and mother of four children. Lara writes at the intersection of spirituality, motherhood and modern life. Her work has been featured in national and international media outlets. Her first book, a memoir about the longing to know if there is more to life, will be ready for publication in 2022. Read her reflections at laracharles.com
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