It’s been pandemic season for two years and a sneeze now. In November 2020 I went to see a gynecologist for a routine appointment. I had anemia which is quite common for me and my general physician pointed out it could be caused by heavy periods. They did a PAP that came back as positive. The moment I saw a missed call from the doctor’s office I knew something was wrong. She said it has markers for cancer (I really can’t remember the exact words) but we need it to wait a year for another check up on the PAP results. She asked if there was history of cancer in my family. In 2012 I came back earlier from a work assignment in Venezuela for a bump in my throat that pointed to a nodule and they needed to determine if it was malignant. My throat hurt when I swallowed and I was throwing up daily. I went with my boyfriend at the time to the hospital for the biopsy. He was incredibly nervous. His mom has passed away from cancer. I heard the quiet mumble of my family and my aunt told me my grandma was praying to every religion she knew. I was kind of numb to it. Results came back and it was a benign nodule. When I hang up the call with the gynecologist, that time in 2012 promptly came to my mind. And the relationship that ended that I thought might be related to all of this and my dad’s sister who suffered from cancer in some of her reproduction organs. I lamented I didn’t even know which one, or anything health-wise related to my dad’s family. Then I went to swiftly forget it or try to and let my dreams be filled with warnings, and focus on my new job, be filled with all the stress that being alone during a pandemic having a new job, and not being certain about much brings. I poured myself to work. I was consumed by whatever issues were brought up. It was all I talked about for a while. Not to deny whatever stresses work brought just how consumed I was by it. The year continued to pass. I realized I was not doing much of what I usually enjoyed and that I was feeling drained, energetically, and of life. From time to time I would think about the doctor’s call and what would that imply so I decided to pour myself more into work. I kept thinking that if something happened to me the least I could do was leave something behind for my family. I decided I would not spend everything in trying to fight such a disease if it develop and that I would save up as much as I could so they wouldn’t be left behind with sorrow and economic pressure. I thought all of this while promptly neglecting my own care. Even worst, sinking my head in the sand to the drain that kept lingering over. 

I realized I was afraid. In my mind this was not related to being afraid of being sick or in need of care. I was afraid to be seen, to make mistakes, to show up or off. I was afraid to speak. It became a dreading session every meeting at work. Every single one. I missed the girl who used to speak her mind but that was so long ago. That girl became shy later and then opened up and then closed up again. That girl was still there somewhere. I thought it was one of the effects of speaking a second language. 

It’s amazing how much rationalizing we fall under when trying to face our deepest issues. It’s amazing how capable we are of avoiding, suppressing, replacing in order to avoid confronting fears. I started asking every morning for courage. Courage to show myself, accept myself, and to show up. I put a post-it on my monitor: trust the process. 

I felt the year passing by in a way that felt like my life was leaving with it too. Of course, the “pandemie” effects all around did not help. Or did it not? Everything could be attributed to it. 

After almost exactly 2 years to the date of my last visit to Cuba I traveled again on Christmas Eve. All the confusion I have held this past year and the fears I had seemed small there. Even disrespectful. And in this clarity, I remembered I have been avoiding after the year of the first doctor call looking at my missed calls and the unread message from the doctor’s office: please call to set an appointment. Do you think your life it’s worth living? I asked in one of the daily journaling sessions to myself. Whatever I answered there does not matter, because I was not doing much to show that it did. I bought books I didn’t read, wrote many poems, fought myself for the impostor I believed I was, asked for authentic experiences when was utterly unwilling to show up at all. I started asking for courage and clarity every morning in the shower after saying thanks for another day. And courage I thought it was going to be about being ready for all possible scenarios that could’ve gone wrong and prepare for them so it wouldn’t surprise me. It turns out that it was trusting in my ability to handle events as they come. To let life flow as it does. It was about faith and connection. A challenge in connection and spiritual growth and an opportunity for change. My goals for 2021 were not realized. But I kept fighting the fears every morning, every public meeting, every blog post missed every time I wanted to reach out to others and couldn’t. 

Everything is scary, don’t expect the fear to stop.