Finding Calm in the Center of the Storm

Today is a Good Day

Today is a good day. This is something I'm coming to terms with in my life. I'm going to have good days and not-so-good days. A couple of days after I wrote my last blog post, I learned I have a rare cancer, Alveolar Rhabdomyosarcoma (ARMS), on January 21, 2021. I'm thankful that my sister, Rachel, was here when I got the news. She had been with me throughout the day because she took me to get an MRI and visit the ophthalmologist. She held me afterward as I cried in her arms. We went for a walk with my granddaughter (I needed to move), and we got Carolina's (a local Mexican Restaurant) for dinner. My sense of smell is almost nonexistent, but I still have a little of my taste left. I ordered a shredded beef taco and a tostada. We got some tortilla chips and salsa (Carolina's salsa is so good!). 

It's taken me some time to write this blog post. My dissertation journey blog was supposed to be about my dissertation, but Anzaldúa teaches us to use it all, lo bueno y lo malo, the good and the bad, the not so good. Sometimes I stir up the storms in my life, but this news, this new storm entering the life, my left sinus, and left eye, is rocking my world. I feel buoyed by the prayers that my prayer warriors are sending; as a friend wrote in a text, "We are storming the heavens with prayers for you!" I believe it and feel it. I'll sulk for a time, grieve for even more time, pick myself with a little (or a lot of) help from my friends and family, and get on with my life, but you know what? All of it is my life. 

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A dear friend encouraged my sister and me to put together a listserv of support people who want to be kept updated on my healing journey. I called my children and let them know of the diagnosis. May God hold them in his heart. One of my grandsons heard about the MRI I was scheduled to take, and a couple of days before the test, he texted me to make sure I was okay. I was so touched by his love, he said, "Well, I just hope God will keep you in his arms." I believe children's prayers are especially powerful, and I feel blessed to have grandchildren who pray for their nana. How lucky am I? 

I texted many of my friends to tell them about the cancer; I have a group of former students who I love dearly; telling them was just as hard as telling my own children; they are my Mijas and Mijos too.  The outpouring of care, love, support, and prayers has been overwhelming at times. To be honest, I sometimes don't feel like I deserve it like I'm making a big deal out of nothing, like I'm just looking for attention. My granddaughter noticed my tears one day and asked me if I was okay. I told her how I was feeling, and she was genuinely shocked, "Nana, you deserve it, especially at a time like this!" Out of the mouths of babes. I want this to be a mantra. 

Dissertation Update

I'm happy to report that I have completed the pláticas for my dissertation research! I completed three the week of January 11-15, 2021, and I completed two this past week, January 25-29, 2021. My goal was to complete the interviews/pláticas/conversations by February. I'm so thankful I met my goal!

I had contacted a woman priest who presides in Tempe, Arizona.  When we recently spoke, I let her know that I was diagnosed with cancer, and she prayed with and for me (I met her several years ago). I sent her an email with the recruitment letter and consent form, my letter to the women priests, and a brief video discussing who I am and why I chose this topic for my research. I also wanted her to forward the information to a deacon in her community who does antiracism work. I haven't heard from them yet. I have attended several masses pre-COVID-19 at the church they serve. I want to include these experiences in my dissertation too. I loved the diversity I saw at the masses. One time a transwoman rose to read the Gospel. It was beautiful. 

I have a diversity of voices for my research, women priests who serve a church community, some are pastors or co-pastors, women who strive to have a priestly presence and serve as the need in their respective communities, and women of color. One of the priests whose story I listened to was part of the Danube 7; she was the only American ordained in the group. This group helped form the Roman Catholic Womenpriests (RCWP) movement. I got to hear the story of one of the first Latinas and one of the first African American women ordained in the RCWP.  Each woman's journey to priesthood is unique, and I am so thankful and honored that they shared it with me. 

My next step is to transcribe each plática. I learned of an app that will be useful in placing the raw data that I get from the Zoom transcripts into a spreadsheet. I'm excited to use it. 

I also reached out to each of the priests to let them know about the cancer in my body; three of them shared with me that they had survived cancer. They all prayed with me and for me. I feel so blessed to share this journey with them. They want to be a part of my healing journey. 

One piece of advice that I received from one of the women priests was to set a time to "talk" "pláticar" with the cancer. To have an appointment with my feelings, thoughts, and emotions, to "dance" with the cancer. She suggested this so that the cancer didn't swallow up her days. When the feelings, thoughts, emotions rose outside the "appointment," she'd remind herself to wait until the appointment with cancer. She wanted to enjoy her granddaughter, spend time with her loved ones, and do what she loved. I loved this idea. I now use it too. I call the cancer, Rhabdo, and we "dance" daily at a certain time. Having this appointment allows me to free up time for my life. It's a great reminder that dealing with cancer is only a part of my life. Yes, it feels so consuming in the beginning, but I can place limits too, even small ones. 

I'm thankful for this space to share about my dissertation journey . . . my healing journey . . . maybe in the end, I'll learn it's one and the same.