Just 3 people came to the Sunflower Wellness class this Friday; but they were very receptive to an intimate conversation. Between unison exercises using elastic tubing, I continued the tale of my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis, 26 years ago.

Mom asked me not to drive down to L.A. for her treatment. She said that my action would give her cancer diagnosis greater weight than she wanted it to hold. In her mind, the trouble would be quickly and curatively resolved, “…so please don’t fuss over me about it.”

When does our concern as a care giver become a burden?

By the 5th year after my own primary cancer treatment, I too felt like my problem had been resolved. Then the disease recurred. I’m 4 years out from the second treatment, radiation, and, unlike the first time, still feel its weight. How powerful, the assignment of meaning and priority… how subjective. Is there any benefit to the worry?

Of course the assignment of significance doesn’t have to be about issues of mortality. I think what made Friday’s subsequent class conversation easy was the agreement in the room that, in general, life’s hardships and joys are a matter of individual interpretation. “It’s a marathon,” one of the participants commented.

Any suggestions?


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