Prescription: Joy | Mar 22 2024

Cancer checkups are almost better than a BOGO offer at the grocery store. You have a test, you get a visit to Dr. Oncology. Definitely not for free, but that’s why they’re almost better. (For those of you outside the US, BOGO is Buy One, Get One, free being the implied promise.) I saw Dr. Oncology this past Monday and walked away with an invisible prescription. Invisible because no paper. Prescription because she repeated herself about 8 thousand times.

Because the scans were stable, I knew we wouldn’t have much to talk about, so I’d prepared a topic in advance. Stress. I wanted to talk about stress and its impact on recurrence or progression of cancer.

I’ve read and written a bit about cancer and post-traumatic stress (PTS) but haven’t driven down the road to more in-depth research. (Good intentions, etc.) But I’ve become increasingly aware of — and concerned about– the stressful nature of the volunteer work I’ve been doing with severely traumatized youth. On Monday, I ratted myself out.

“What’s your view on the impact of stress on cancer?” Such a simple question. Such a not-simple response. I should have expected that, given that Dr. Oncology has storytelling running through her Irish blood. She always starts with a nod to research, of which, she says, there is not much. But, anecdotally (her word) (here come the stories) many of her patients who have incorporated life changes after diagnosis, such as diet, meditation, (check and check) have also gone out of their way to avoid stress. Some have gone as far as changing jobs. (Cue the tractor beam eye contact.) The key, she continued, is does it bring you joy.

That’s quite the metric, eh?

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I’d described the work I was doing, which gave her lots to riff on. My caring heart, for one. The darkness and stress that emanated from my description. I would say, she said, this very important work isn’t bringing you joy. Thus ensued a more detailed journey into my caring heart, how it appeared to be leading me astray, how there were others more suited to the work. Implied was her question about what was motivating me. I nodded at key moments, but there was no news there. I was pondering joy, and the way snippets of what I’d said or done with the youth seemed to overflow onto my long-suffering husband and a few friends. I’d been seeking release, maybe even relief. I tuned back in when she repeated that the volunteering didn’t seem like it brought me joy and that’s what she wanted me to focus on. By then she’d circled back to joy at least 7.5 thousand times.

“I hear you,” I said, nodding.

“Does it bring you joy?” she responded. “That’s what’s most important.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. Which led to a wrap-up of her explication on the topic (and the final half thousand mentions of joy).

Then she listened to my lungs, looked at the abysmal condition of my nails and the cracking skin on my fingers, asked about rashes– all side effects of my miracle medicine– and, with a hug and thanks for brightening her day, sent me to scheduling.

I thought hard for a couple of days. One of those days I went to the residence. I was pretty sure of what I was going to do and it was important to me to say goodbye and thanks to the staff I’d so enjoyed working with.  I went back for my next scheduled day for the same reason and was simply blown away by the heartfelt regret and thanks from the residence director and clinician on duty. “If you’re needing to avoid stress, this is not the place,” the director laughed ruefully. Everybody got a little teary, me included. Then, out on the floor, one of the staff asked if they would still have access to me via email to generate educational ideas for small groups. That led to a lot of brainstorming. I promised to run it by the residence director on my way out.

Thus was born the next iteration of my volunteer work. They had long wanted someone to support staff in generating topics– curricula, as we like to say in educational lingo– that would help the youth develop knowledge of the world beyond their trauma. Now this, I thought, is my jam. Coming up ideas and materials to trick youth into learning (AKA to be curious about the world and their place in it)? From the sanctity of my own desk? What an opportunity.

We’re waiting on the green light from the head of the agency, but everyone, including the agency head’s assistant, is pretty sure it’s a no-brainer.

This is cool and I think coolness is akin to joy. And, to be honest, I feel relieved. And a little excited.

One further thought. It strikes me that we can stack up many things that bring us joy and then rush through them, as if checking them off of a list. Maybe the second key idea is that we need to experience the quiet delight of joy in the moment of doing something joyful.

I’ll keep you posted.

Thanks for reading. In the coming days, I hope you dwell in something that brings you joy.

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Here’s this week’s cake, a joyful thing to create– and, hopefully, to eat.

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