I remember clearly in 1991 sitting in the doctor's office having stitches removed. The pathology report came in over the fax machine. The doctor was in shock. My wife almost passed out. I just felt numb. Had no experience in my life up to that point to condition my response for that news. Left there and went across town (Baltimore) to meet with a team of doctors. I guess at a point in that meeting the numbness started to wear off. I remember in the evening as we drove on the interstate back to W.Va. I started to have a feeling of being boxed-in. Trapped. I felt like squirming in my seat, restless, while I was trying to drive. Just couldn't make it home that night. We stayed in a hotel and made a few calls to family members. The boxed-in feeling became more intense that night. I started to panic. I felt fear. Couldn't sleep. A relatively healthy mind trapped inside of a sick body. A dying body. I couldn't figure out how to escape.
Over the next 2 days, I cried a lot. I felt like maybe death was seriously confronting me. My overwhelming feeling besides the sheer panic and terror was a profound and deep sadness centered around the thought of being away from my kids.
At some point in those first 48 hours, a calmness swept over me. Of course, I was praying a lot. The thought came to me that this wasn't a death sentence. Maybe the change happened when I let myself completely experience the panic, terror and sadness. Those things eventually lost their power and control over me. Then I knew I could fight this. As long as I continued to resist the situation I was in, the feeling of panic continued. What's the saying? "What we resist persists."
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