I am sitting in one of the patient rooms waiting to see the radiation oncologist. I see him every Tuesday so this is just routine. He is a very nice, soft-spoken man and a good doctor. My whole experience from diagnosis to radiation has been filled with kind caring doctors, nurses, and technicians. I have been blessed.

As I near the end of my treatment, I am overwhelmed with emotions. I am elated to begin my new journey with eyes, heart, and soul wide open. I feel my heart bubbling over with joy. But for the first time, I finally admitted out loud to another person that I am scared. I said it to Sylvia a few nights ago and to my radiation partner yesterday. Both times, tears flooded my eyes.

I am not looking for the worst to happen, but for some reason I feel I must be prepared. When I was first getting sober, my sponsor had a cancer scare. I was terrified – she had become so important in my life. In a panic I called another woman in recovery to tell her about my fear. She asked simply, “What is the worst that can happen?” I said the worst would be if my sponsor died. The woman on the other end of the phone asked, “If that happens, will you have to take a drink?” My response was no. I have used this throughout my life: What is the worst that can happen? And I think that is what I am doing now.

So what is the worst that can happen??? Well, the cancer could come back. What will I do? I will fight and I will continue to fight. The worst, of course, would be death. What will I do? Die – but not before I have used up every last little bit of the life in this body. I have got some living to do and now is the time. I will deal with tomorrow when tomorrow gets here.

Being scared, for me, always has to do with the unknown. But isn’t the unknown just part of living? It is the unknown – the things that reach up and slap you in the face and the things that bring you untold joy – that makes life worth living. We cannot see around corners and we cannot know what will happen tomorrow, or even in the next second, for that matter. We just have to live, riding the waves of elation and stumbling through the briars of sadness and loss.

After I left radiation today I took my usual walk around the park. It was a beautiful morning, nice and cool, and fall is in the air. Today I didn’t just stand and look at that big oak tree; I walked over to it and touched it. I put my hand against its bark and stood with my hand there for a few moments. I wanted to be part of it, to know that when I am dead and gone, this tree will still be here and because I have touched it – so will I. We are all connected: plants, animals, earth. We depend on each other. Imagine a world with no trees or flowers, no beauty to touch your heart and make you smile. It would be a depressing world.

Well, I am still scared – but that is also okay. Fear is just another emotion. Once you take it out and look at it, some of its power is taken away. All of you have given me strength and support throughout this battle and I know if I need to call on you again, you will be there. Because just like the plants, animals, and earth, we are all connected. We depend on each other for survival and support.

Thank you for being there for me and allowing me to depend on you.