Witnessing Fear And The Hero

“Even though I can’t complain because I have it all, I’m still afraid – very afraid,” vulnerability interlaced with a calm firmness in her voice, she openly shared her sentiments over COVID and the new reality we were living.    

That day I was teaching a class from home. Gazing into that small camera so that the students could see my eyes looking at theirs. Struggling with the virtual connectivity dance, and the inability to make eye contact, we talked about our challenges during isolation. It was when this one yogi admitted that she was afraid, when something clicked in my brain making me inhale involuntarily and exhale in an empathetic sigh. 

“Let’s all come to a comfortable seated position, legs crossed, sits bones pointing down onto the earth, long spine and crown of the head lifted towards the sky. Start connecting with the breath …” and so I lead the class into the centering part of the 75-minute yoga practice. “Afraid – she is still afraid”. 

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At the doctor’s office 30 years ago … 

“One week of chemo then you go home. Listen to me, you have to stay home. No visits. You cannot go out. Your immune system will be weak during the days following the chemo. A cold, a virus, a bacteria can be deadly for you. All this effort will be worthless if you don’t follow my instructions. No visits, no going out, no socializing. Your family has to wear a mask when they are with you. You have to remind them if they forget. But, try to stay in your room as much as you can. You will have to wear a mask in three weeks when you come back for a consult. Am I being clear?” 

I nodded.

“I need to hear you say yes.” The doctor’s dark eyes pierced through my soul.

“Yes, I hear you.” I wanted to look down and release the tears that were swelling in my eyes. I didn’t. Like a champ I pierced back into his eyes almost in defiance. I must have blinked and swallowed to release the tension building up on my face. 

“Here is my personal number, if anything happens, if you don’t feel well, you call me immediately. Is that clear young lady?” 

I sure was a young lady … I was sixteen. No socializing? Was he on crack? All I wanted to do was ride my bike with my friends near the Maracaibo Lake. I wanted to go run on the beach and pick seashells while the water cooled my skin from the tropical sun. I wanted to dance to the beat of Venezuelan-African drums with my friends at every high-school party and laugh all night with my girl-friends. I was only sixteen years old! Only sixteen and that darn doctor was holding me hostage in my house, in my room. There was no internet back in the eighties. Isolation was … sordidly silent. 

It was a whole year of social distancing only able to see my family and eventual visits with my boyfriend. At some point, phone calls faded and visits spaced. I got so bored, so lonely, so sad. It was in the midst of self-pity and fear that new things started to show up or maybe I just started to notice. And it was right at this time when things started to change.

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In the memoir I wrote about my experience healing from cancer (Pretty Girls Don’t Get Cancer), which I self-published this year, I describe my bumps and bruises as I learned a new way of being. Without going into all the details in these few lines, I gagged myself through plant-based diets, slept through meditations, moved into simple yoga and tai-chi sequences, and with the help of a therapist, I experienced the power of forgiveness in my healing journey.

Most importantly, in the book, I talk about love and fear being in opposite spectrums of our human experience. Like my therapist described back then “…contrary to what we normally think it’s not hate – it’s fear that breaks the bridges of love.” The fear of death, of weakness, of feeling pain, of not being able to breathe, of being alone, sometimes even the fear of living because what if it is somehow taken away from our lives.

Isolation – at first a burden, in time, turned into a precious gift. It gave me space and silence and it shone the light into the corners of my soul that were comfortably dim. I didn’t quite have it all but I was alive – I was breathing, and that insight made all the difference for me to make the best of the time I had to spend with “me.”

At that age, the human mind and body is so resilient, we can do anything. Right? No, that’s not exactly true. At that age, I could have taken different choices. Maybe gotten into drugs, alcohol or an “easier” life. Would anyone have blamed me? Life was sucking and I had every reason to consume my mind into a spiral of self-pity and drown my sorrows in a self-destructive lifestyle. The mysterious depth of that excuse bag was not only attractive because of my youth, it was at my fingertips!

Today, when I sit again in isolation, this time because of COVID, I know that it was ‘Love,’ the reason I took the hardest road. It was love, through the care of my parents. Also, through a sister that believed anything was possible and drew us all into her conviction. A dependable brother who seamlessly kept the home running. Friends and relatives who cheered for me reassuring me that I could do anything. It was a community of wonderful people who made my gaze focus on the light and learn during the piercing silence of isolation.   

It’s during this time when my heart goes out to cancer patients, families and caregivers. As if cancer was not reason enough to make you want to roll up into a ball, close your eyes and hide from all the uncertainty and chaos. Now, there is COVID and its ‘invisibility cloak’ threatening the people that care for the patients. Truth is, todays patients, families and caregivers are shaping a whole new dimension of courage for the term ‘hero’.  

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The class ended with the final relaxation or savasana – my favorite pose. As the yogis laid still in the comfort of their own homes, and I guided their journey to rest in stillness after the efforts, I witnessed my ribs expanding as prana nurtured my lungs. It feels so darn good to be alive.    

If you have the blessing to be able to take deep breaths, have health, a job, a family, would you please consider reaching into your Love pockets? Please donate funds to a local cancer support organization to help them through this social crisis. They need our support. Cancer is hard enough, COVID has added a layer of complexity that we have yet to fully understand.

If you’d like to support my work please also consider purchasing my memoir Pretty Girls Don’t Get Cancer available at Amazon, Target, Walmart, and many other distributors. A portions of the proceeds will be donated to AYA cancer support organizations. Thank you in advance!

Social Image: Photo by Ivan Torres on Unsplash