Accents
"May the Force be with you!"
October 17, 1997, exactly ten years ago to the day, October 17, 2007, is a story that happened in the hospital immediately before I went "under the knife." "May the Force be with you!" was published by the Philippine Society of Medical Oncologists in MOVING ON, Vol. I, No. 2, July-Sept. 1999 issue. A newsletter for cancer patients, MOVING ON is aptly bannered Carrying You Through Your Battle with Cancer. Read on:
It was a helpless state—lying on a hospital bed in this October of my life, just when one has started to enjoy retirement from the hustle-bustle of earning a living. To be sick of what is reputed to be a dread disease, the Big C no less—what could be more draining of energy than that?
From the 5th floor of the hospital, isolation was almost complete. The noise of the outside world was but a whisper. Silence sharpened the senses, but what I could catch was only the faint whiff of antiseptics. The attendant and nurse would come in any minute to wheel me to the operating room. Then the phone rang. And was the ringing heaven-sent. Like there's going to be a reprieve, a sort of presidential pardon before the sword of Damocles would cut into my stomach: because the CAT-scan showed a fist-size lump in my ovary.
From the other side of the globe came the reassuring voice of my daughter Randy Raissa. Randy so caring, so loving, full of soothing words to make up for her absence. Tender, loving care from across the oceans, even if it's only by airwaves. Randy, she who is blessed with a bigger slice of that sense of humor than her two other more serious sisters and a brother. After she bade goodbye on the telephone, came this parting shot: "May the Force be with you!"
"What's that?" I asked. Then followed the familiar chuckle and this reply: "He-he! Just ask Jetrone." Jetrone is my ten-year old grandson.
"Okay, whatever it is, may the Force be with me." I said meekly with the mind-set of one who clings to every straw. For indeed, when on the wait for the inevitable hour, was there anything else I could do?
After the operation, when Jetrone came to visit with his Papa and Mama, I repeated the "magic" words to my grandson: "May the Force be with you!"
"Lola [Grandma], that's from Star Wars," Jetrone exclaimed.
When Randy called up next, her voice cracked with anxiety. Being a doctor, she understood the gravity of my illness. But the familiar chuckle came through the wires when I said, "Randy, the Force was with me all the way! The operation was successful."
The Force? What is it? Who is it?
Yes, it was God, the Divine Force to whom my ardent prayers were addressed, from whom I sought strength and courage to be able to pull through it all, from whom I asked that the doctors, despite their expertise, be guided. Yes, the Force was with me all the way—the moment I was wheeled into the operating room, asleep under the knife, and waking up anesthesia-free.
And yes, the Force was with me before, during, and after this patient's impatient days of chemotherapy. In what seemed to be interminable hours of being hooked up to the I-V, there was my grandson Jetrone to regale me with snatches from Star Wars, the movie I ignored being no fan of science fiction. He spoke of a terrible species, the Sand People, a fierce and violent tribe driven to savagery by their harsh environment. Not strange that this cancer patient of a Grandma likened them to the menacing cancer cells in her body.
Young Jetrone described the hideous-looking Darth Vader pitted against the handsome, stunning Luke Skywalker in a final confrontation, protagonists playing out the ultimate battle: Good vs. Evil. The boy understood the metaphor when I said Luke Skywalker must stand for Good, Darth Vader for Evil. Even as I was saying that, the parallelism came to my mind again: at war with the cancer cells were the chemicals being infused into my body.
Goodness triumphed. Because the Force has always been with me—up to the days of full recovery.#
I'm on remission from ovarian cancer for ten years now—and counting. The Final Arbiter, also called the Force, has decided in my favor. (Comments to lagoc@hargray.com)