There’s A War Going On Inside My Body.
I’ve been thinking a lot about organ recitals. And I’m not talking church here. I’m referring to that conversation we have as we get older—the one that revolves around how our organs don’t work like they used to.
As many of you know, I found out I had intermediate-stage prostate cancer last September, the day after I launched my book tour in New York. The good news is the cancer hasn’t grown in a year, but this week I had a now-annual procedure that reminded me of my worst experiences at the dentist. Only this experience involved an orifice at the other end of my body.
One of the most distressing parts of going to the dentist is the sound of the drill, right? Well, a prostate biopsy involves a medical device that swipes, in my case, 16 tissues from my organ with a sound that eerily sounds like a stapling gun. I know…TMI! But it’s information we’ll all have to take in, in one shape or another. Welcome to the witnessing of the deterioration of our bodies. Of course, how we bear witness is up to us.
Amidst the distress of my procedure, I wrote a note to myself, “What if my body isn’t at war with me? What if my body was my wisest teacher, guiding me to the truths I needed to learn?” Yes, I want to kill my cancer, but I also want to heed the message of my body being in dis-ease.
Eleven years ago, I had a flatline experience that was a wake-up call for a hotelier who needed to get out of the hotel biz. Now, prostate cancer. It was time for a new question. And, so, last night, before going to bed, I asked my wise body, “How can you speak to me in new ways that aren’t so extreme?”