Saturday the 14th, for me, is one of those dates that represent life-changing events. (Nothing too dramatic here!) Twenty years ago, I had brain surgery to remove a malignant tumor. That followed the absence seizure two days earlier which led to the diagnosis. (Twenty years ago today.)
This anniversary is
especially meaningful, since I recently used the story of my experience of
cancer as part of a coaching process. And
it was quite an experience.
After surgery, I was
put on anti-seizure medication—which I still take. For a few weeks, I had a special treat:
taking a steroid to prevent swelling of the brain. As we know, steroids have interesting
side-effects. One of them is stimulation
of the appetite. Before the surgery, I
had always been skinny (and even scrawny)!
I was at 160 pounds. Afterwards,
packing away a voluminous amount of calories, I bulked up to 200 pounds, which
for a 6’4” man, is about normal. (Here
are the “before” and “after” photos I posted a few years ago. That's Banu
sitting next to me.)
But the emotional
effects were even more interesting. I’m
a pretty even-tempered person, but steroidal influence can be a bit noteworthy. I’ll just mention one incident.
At our seminary, the
top three floors of the main building had apartments and dorm rooms. Banu and I lived on the top floor. She and a couple of our friends were
downstairs in the lobby, putting up Christmas decorations. I was in the apartment, watching an episode
of Star Trek (I don’t remember which
series!). The phone rang, and I was
requested to come down and hang up an ornament.
While descending the
staircase, a feeling of anger began to swell over me. How dare they interrupt my watching Star Trek! I found that they had a ladder poised under
the spot which was destined for the decoration.
“Why did they call for me?” I thought.
“Any of them could have just as easily used the ladder!” They knew I was upset; I was giving them the
silent treatment.
It wasn’t long before
I knew I was out of line. I went back
and apologized for my steroid-induced behavior.
One of our friends blew it off.
She said, “Now you know how PMS feels.”
If it took getting my head cut open to only minutely identify with the woes of women, so be it!
Actually, my whole
experience of cancer has helped me to better empathize with those who have
mental and physical problems, those who are compulsive and forgetful. I won’t overstate the case, since I have some
problems of my own!
I want to finish this
post with an icon that is familiar to many.
It is Christ Pantocrator, an icon at St. Catherine’s Monastery in Sinai. It dates back to the sixth century. Often noted are the two sides of the face,
representing the divine and human natures of Christ. Some also say that they represent the masculine
and feminine natures of the Christ.
(Noting that the man Jesus also exhibited “masculine” and “feminine”
qualities in his personality.)
Bringing this to the
main reason for this blog post, I have noticed something about the right side
of the face (from the viewer’s standpoint).
Considering its long history, there’s no way I’m the only one to see
this. That side of the face seems to
have an illness or infirmed condition. I
see it as the result of a stroke. One of
my names for this icon is “Jesus, the Stroke Victim”! To me, that suggests a genuine identification
with the sick. We can see that in the
gospels. Jesus dares to touch those who
are ritually unclean—even physically unclean.
My
puny empathy with the ill is but a faint shadow of that displayed by Jesus
Christ. How ironic—or appropriate—that
the Pantocrator (Greek for “Almighty”) is demonstrated by one who reflects and
embodies sickness and weakness.
No comments:
Post a Comment