Bullies

In earlier blogs from Seattle, I referred to the light at the end of the tunnel.  Although the light kept moving further into the distance, the simple goal was to return home.  That was the light that nourished me for such a long time.  It was as if leaving Seattle meant I was done, cured and healthy again.  When that moment finally became a reality, it was an emotional journey, one of happiness, nervousness to see friends and students and some sadness to say goodbye to so many who cared for me.

Since I'm now realizing the tunnel of sickness is much longer than I ever imagined, I have to look forward to the many new lights that are in front of me.  Leaving Seattle was a singular goal.  In some ways, my focus was simple.  Now, the tunnel goes on for months with many lights along the way.  First, the symphony concert was this evening and another will be tomorrow.  I played with a fever tonight but it went just fine.  My band is performing in a festival this Monday evening.  The following week, my students perform in an adjudicated festival with several other schools.  The Spring concert is just a few days later.  All of these events represent future goals to check off as they go by.  They also represent a focus that has nothing to do with sickness and nothing to do with the evil that we call cancer.

My current state of mind reminds me of a story from my childhood, one that gave me confidence and courage.  As an eighth grader, I was a good student but not great.  I excelled in music and was nice to people.  I also had a severe hatred for bullies.  The middle school I attended had more than its share of bullies with violent fights every day and packs of students who just wanted to intimidate people.  At the time, I realized their power and control of others wasn't based on toughness or strength, it was all about fear and intimidation.  In other words, the bullies of the school relied on mental control out of fear of physical punishment.  The truth was, they were not stronger or tougher than others but many students were still afraid.  If their intended victims were not afraid, they had nothing.

In the Spring, I was selected along with about a dozen other eighth graders to deliver tea to parents and teachers at an event called "Parent Night."  It was an honor to be selected.  I had to wear a white shirt with dress pants as I carried a silver tray full of tea cups to various classrooms.  Suddenly, a middle school student in regular street clothes approached me and pointed at the main outside door to the school.  Standing in the doorway was the most infamous bully from the neighborhood.  His fists were to his side in a fighting stance.  He was at least three years older, a high school dropout whose daily routine seemed to be theft, selling drugs and intimidating everyone.  He stole a minibike from me three months earlier.  My brother and I discovered that he was the thief so I turned him into the police, retrieved my minibike and took him to small claims court for damages and won a settlement of $60, a very significant amount at the time.  The middle school student who was sent as a messenger said, "Bill wants to beat you up.   He'll be waiting for you outside."  This message was intended as a one way conversation.  It wasn't a question and Bill wasn't expecting a response other than me being frightened to leave the school.  For some reason, I wasn't afraid and replied, "Tell him it will be a while. I'm busy delivering tea."

This character had been trying to get in a confrontation for several days but after that evening, he gave up.  His routine of intimidation didn't work.  I was simply too busy to satisfy his attempt to frighten me.  That was the last time I ever saw him.

Cancer tries with all its might to control and intimidate.  It wants to take over our body and soul.  Under threat of physical punishment or death, it's standing in the doorway with fists at its side wanting its victim to surrender.  Cancer is the ultimate bully, full of hatred and dark intent.  As for me, for whatever cancer may be left in my body, I'm truly not afraid, never have been.  I'm saying to the cancer within me, "I don't have time to be intimidated.  I'm simply too busy."