Tests, Allies and Enemies

     Once the hero crosses the threshold into the special world, the first stop is ‘tests, allies and enemies.’ This shows up in every story.

     The hero is tested in multiple ways and her response reveals who she is. Does she fight, retreat, lash out, kick, scream, curl up or roll over? Tests can take many forms. Generally, the tests are not quite as literal as the medical tests I’ve been encountering. Appears the universe is making this metaphor very simple for me. 

     Good stories are messy. They are the opposite of ideal life. Good stories are filled with tension and conflict. If it’s too easy, there’s no story. No stakes. 

     Every good story has enemies, those characters we love to hate. So far, in my story, I identify two: the cancer and the capacity of my mind to lead me down dark paths. An old friend who went on this journey 10 years ago suggested a tool she found helpful: denial. Right now, for me, ‘diversion’ may be a better word. When the unknown and beyond-my-control causes shadow thinking, I’m working on transporting my thoughts elsewhere.

     Every story worth telling has allies. In my journey, numerous allies rose to the surface immediately. There’s my oncologist who told me in our first meeting: “This will change you, but it is not a bad thing. It’s a good thing.” I still don’t know if she was talking about the character transformation or the cancer, but somehow it doesn’t matter. My husband told me later he thought her words would anger me. Instead, I was inspired. 

     And my surgeon is a clear ally. So is the medical intern I met during our first meeting when I reacted in shock to the surgery recommendation.

     “You need to write about this,” the intern said.

     “Yeah, I could, but no one wants to read this story,” I said.

     “Oh, there’s an audience,” she said, nodding. “You’ll find your audience.”

     Other allies rose quickly in the days following my diagnoses. Well-wishers with “thinking of you” e-mails, notes, calls, flowers, food and tokens. Some are family and friends; some are simply emotionally-centered people who’ve fallen from the sky and will likely be friends for life. This includes my neighbors in the medical field who are not only providing me with tons of medical information, but have offered to got to bat for me for anything insurance-related, including tutoring me on the fine-print of my policy.

     And there are others who have touched me.

     My teen daughter who said, “Sorry for being mean to you, Mom.”

     “When?” I asked.

     “For from forever.”

     My son who calls repeatedly, made me lunch, sent me a ‘thinking of you’ e-mail along with an mp3 files of the Cowsills’ song I’d forgotten I’d played for him as a kid. “Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair…”

    And his father, my ex-husband who immediately picked up the phone and called to say he was thinking of me and offered his support and prayers even though he doesn’t pray. He went on to tell me the wonderful attributes he sees in our son, which all came from me, along with other kind and loving words he’s never shared.

     That was a gift. And a reminder of a truth I’ve always known but not necessarily written. That I will always love everyone I have ever loved.

     And then there’s my husband Ron who, just this morning left a coffee mug with a bouquet of fresh azaleas and mint on my desk. The mug says “I (heart) my wife.”  He and my daughter found the second-time around mug at Good Will. It couldn’t be more perfect. 

     Still, it's bittersweet: why would anyone give that away?