Are you there, God? It’s me, Hayley.

“I don’t know what else to do.” 

Evan laid in the small hospital bed facing me, my head against his chest, tears streaming down my face. 

I’ve prayed to all the gods. 

I’ve read all the cancer books. 

I’ve practiced daily yoga and meditation. 

I’ve taken Epsom baths and used castor packs. 

I’ve had energy healing, massage, and acupuncture. 

I’ve moved my body, sat in the sunshine, drank green juice, and taken vitamins. 

I’ve done everything I know to do. 

Years I spent listening to optimizers, podcasters, and prosperity gospel advocates hoc their wares to make me (us) believe we have the power through our mindset and the right combo pack of habits to prevent bad things from happening. Don’t have cancer yet? That bitch is hiding around the corner unless you intermittent fast or only eat fruit before noon or go to church twice a week (fingers crossed you pick the right religion) or do cardio 6 days a week or give up all sugar/gluten/dairy/calories or meditate in an infrared sauna or put a jade egg up your woohoo. Did you miss a day of doing one of these things, and now you have cancer? Well, first of all, it’s totally your fault, and secondly, you’re in luck because you can, like, totally fix it! Hope you like kale smoothies and are cool with ditching your oncologist for some international travel to India or Mexico. 

I get it. Believe me, I get it. When you think you’re dying, or you could die, or you remember in the middle of the night that you will die, and someone tells you they have a way out of it, you will do anything. I listened to the advice and for years fasted 16 hours a day, was vegan/vegetarian for over a decade, did the cardio, had the social network, prayed (begged) to the God of my understanding, abstained from all kinds of optimizer-black-listed foods, spent my paycheck on naturopathic doctors, meditated, did yoga, and thought positive. And I got cancer. And I’ve done what the books and gurus have said to do, and it came back again. Twice. 

A view of all my favorites.

Kate Bowler, the writer, professor, and human living with incurable cancer, often speaks to the pain and freedom that comes when you learn that, when it comes to life, the math just doesn’t add up. Life is not a zero-sum game of deposits and withdrawals. Why would a healthy woman get cancer in the prime of her life? Why not? And if that can be true, could it also be true that I have no control over if I live or die from cancer or a car ride to the cancer center or any other of 1000 things? I suppose so. 

I was trying to do the math yesterday as I officially checked into the hospital for my bone marrow transplant. I’ve had a transplant before, and it didn’t work: withdrawal. I’m fully in remission and feeling great: deposit. I ate a cookie today: withdrawal. The cookie made me super happy: deposit. What do I do about cookies?!** I wish I could be home. I need to be here. A short stay for long life. This is the hope speaking. The fear follows close behind. 

Fear. 

Simran Jeet Singh, in his breathtaking book The Light we Give, says, “When we are truly connected, fear leaves our consciousness.” He goes on to say, “True fulfillment comes with finding alignment and connection within ourselves.” While I don’t presume to have an antidote to any of this mess, the discipline of connection feels the closest. Connection implies I’m listening; to my body, to my spirit, and to the needs of the moment and the people in it. Feet firmly in the now, I’m safe from math equations that only build as I mine the past or fantasize about the future. Fear cannot find me here. 

Are you impressed we moved it all up in one trip? #PowerCouple

I wish I could stay here, right now. The best I got are flashes of brilliant awareness when I’m in it. This is where I’ve found the habit of conversation helps. To be grounded when  I checked in yesterday, I needed to sit still, eyes closed, and remember my goal: to honor the donor with my gratitude and show his cells around the joint. This quest brings out the very best in me - what do I want to show him? The specific inside/out sweat that only comes from yoga. The comfort of stillness in meditation. The elevation of a good belly laugh and the relief of a good cry. This goal, to show my new cells their happy home, keeps me doing the habits that feel good to me - not because I should do them or because research says it prevents cancer, but because they feel good to me. More alive, more like myself, more connected, so I have more brilliant moments of awe/awareness. True fulfillment, indeed. 

Evan gave me the best gift he could as I wept in his arms tonight - total presence. There was no telling me I got this or asking me to cheer up, rather, a silent and loving eye contact. The fear faded into the connection of our love and trust. This is only the beginning of this phase of our journey, and the first few days are always the toughest. As we were feeling our big feelings, the nurse came in with a stack of information about my stay and a waiver so I can get a visit from a dog on Wednesday, so…things are looking up. 

NOTES: 
** F’n diet culture