The Unseen Assailant

Finding a way through the unknown

I’ve never been great at the unknown. I like to know where I’m sleeping, what I’m eating, what the plans are for each day, each week, each season. I like lists and plans and diaries. As a family we’ve often been on holiday to the same place for two consecutive years, so that the second visit holds fewer surprises. We’ve never really done the kind of trip where you fly somewhere and hope to book something when you arrive, although we did once spend a month in Brazil with three young children travelling between families we had maybe met once the previous year. It was only when we were waiting in what turned out to be a two hour immigration queue in Sao Paolo that we realised we had no phone numbers for our hosts to warn them of the delay. Everything had been booked through Brazilian friends in England or by email. Thankfully our lovely hosts had waited patiently and we had an amazing trip, but we were certainly out of our comfort zone!

Being diagnosed with a chronic blood cancer threw me into the unknown. The “chronic” aspect simply means long term (and not terrible, as the word is often used). I was suddenly staring at years of living with this unseen assailant, without knowing if or how quickly it would progress towards treatment, how it would make me feel physically and emotionally, how it would affect my work life, how other people would be affected and so on. When we decided to retire from our jobs and relocate we were presented with a whole other set of questions. I started to realise that I had a choice between living in a state of anxiety through it all or finding peace in the unknown.

I believe that most of us have unseen assailants. For some they are physical issues which can’t be seen, for some they are mental issues such as anxiety or depression, for some they are both. I have a really good friend who has struggled with chronic pain since I met her. I have often marvelled at her ability to continue to live a really fulfilling life and to help many other people along the way. We have laughed and cried together on many occasions, as well as cheering each other’s achievements, particularly after I was diagnosed and started to understand the nature of chronic illness. The biggest thing is that we have provided each other with a safe place to be real with our emotions whilst still being able to have fun and encourage each other to keep going and even flourish through it all. I’m so grateful.

I often think that the unseen assailants are the things that flood our minds at 3am. I recently saw an excellent quote where our brains are saying, “I can see you’re trying to sleep, so I would like to offer you a selection of every memory, unresolved issue, or things you should have said or done today, as well as in the past 40 years!” I’ve learnt to give the tumbling thoughts I have during the night as little credence as possible. There has been a whole campaign recently on social media highlighting the fact that everyone is struggling with things which cannot be seen, so we should always be kind – something I have always believed. As a foodbank manager, I often met service users who presented with one issue, but on talking to them I quickly discovered that there was a whole realm of other issues under the surface, their own unseen assailants. Sometimes these things caused them to behave in a way which could be seen as confrontational and angry, but actually they were responding out of what were often terrible experiences and circumstances. Harsh words often mask hurting hearts. I recently learnt about rocks called geodes – quite ugly gnarly rocks which hide a beautiful crystal formation in their centre. A good analogy for many people I believe. The Bible talks about “The hidden man of the heart”. I’ve spent quite a while chewing over that phrase.

Of course we all choose what we share and reveal about ourselves and that is as it should be. It’s not always useful or appropriate to share all the details of a chronic diagnosis with everyone. In my case, any mention of the word Leukaemia would need to be followed by a longer definition of the details associated with CLL and why it wasn’t being treated straight away, so I often said I just had a chronic blood condition. However, there were a few people I shared the whole story with as I knew they would support me, pray for me, provide a safe place to be honest about my thoughts and feelings and generally cheer me on as I faced this unknown journey. I’m a firm believer that if our unseen assailants stay fully hidden in the darkness they fester, whereas if they can be brought into the light and shared in a safe place, they somehow lose some of their potency.

I’m not by nature easily angry nor do I hold on to bitterness. I read recently that suffering can make you bitter or better! I’ve never asked “Why me?” I could just as easily say “Why not me?” It’s here and I need to find a way through all the unknowns. I have always been someone who pursues peace in my life, even in the difficult times. Someone sent us a beautiful card which says “Peace does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.” As a Christian, my faith brings me immense peace. I believe that God has plans for me and that if I acknowledge Him in all my unknowns, He will show me the paths that I should follow. That doesn’t mean that I never have anxiety – far from it, but it means that ultimately I have peace that God has my life in His hands.

Finding a way through anxiety is the subject of a whole other blog, but for me the biggest thing I have learnt is to be present. Mindfulness has become a very trendy subject, but my reading on the subject has had a really positive effect on how I treat each day. I’m working at choosing to be present in the things I experience today, rather than being robbed by worries and anxieties about the future. Please believe me when I say that I don’t always succeed. There are many times that my fears of the unknown aspects of living with blood cancer seem to take over, but I’m learning not to beat myself up about that. Those times go as quickly as they come. I move on.

This week I had my three monthly consultant appointment, this time online for obvious reasons. These appointments are strange things. In many ways I’ve always been torn between wanting things to remain stable and wanting something to change. It’s not that I want to be more ill, but I somehow want something to happen, so I’m not feeling like I just have to go away and get on with it. The fact that it could go either way is always enough to make me anxious. At my last appointment in November it was suggested that I might be approaching the time for treatment, so in some ways I was prepared this time. I have an excellent consultant who, after asking how I was feeling, went on to confirm that treatment should now begin. He answered all my questions and explained in detail what the treatment would entail, which really helped. Even though I had expected it, I had a definite wobble for the rest of the day as the reality of my situation sunk in and I was faced with yet more unknowns. I napped a lot, ate and drank a few nice things and read a little.

By the next day I felt more in control and ready for action. I spent the day relaxing and resting, not putting too much pressure on myself to achieve much after the emotions of the previous day. I’m a newly converted jigsaw fan, so I sat at my favourite spot by the window with a jigsaw and a coffee. The sun came out and it was a truly lovely morning, focusing only on finishing the edges of the jigsaw and watching village life go by. I felt peaceful and content. Many times since then the unknowns of treatment have been in our minds and conversations with each other and the wider family and close friends. I have reached out to others who have experienced or are currently in the middle of the same treatment, which has really helped. I’m not a “head in the sand” type of person – information really helps me, although I know that’s not true for everyone. Today was another sunny day, so we walked in the countryside near our house with the dog, just enjoying the views, the sunshine, the warmer breeze, the chatting. I refuse to be robbed of these simple but precious experiences by worrying constantly about the future.

So there are many unknowns to come. I’m sure there will be times of anxiety and worry, but that’s OK, I will not accept the pressure of being positive all the time. I will keep pursuing peace, I will keep trying to be present, I will keep being grateful, I will keep on keeping on.