Rose

I believe in the power of prayer. I know the power of love. I've experienced the power of kindness.

In 2016 when I started chemo I began a tradition of grabbing a rose from the many flower arrangements that decorate the lobby of the cancer center. A pseudo reward of sorts for undergoing the infusion that kept me locked to a chair for 4 hours as toxins raced through my veins. Once home, I would simply cut the stem and place it in a cocktail glass with water. It had become a regular thing for me to do these past three years and rarely put any thought into it. Then last week:

I ended the clinical consultation with my Oncologist and headed directly to the nearest floral arrangement for my prize. I picked the thickest pink bulb and proceeded towards the elevator. Suddenly, I was filled with an immense "nurturing" energy that overwhelmed me with the added thought that I needed one more rose. I swear to you, I heard something in my head telling me "get one more rose". My elevator had reached the main reception area and I continued toward the exit. By this point I had my flower and really didn't want another one, but the thought persisted. I proceeded to pay the parking valet when I saw a nice floral bouquet next to the reception desk, so I grabbed another rose and walked toward the waiting area. There, I saw a very thin young woman draped in a hoodie with sweatpants that were barely hanging from her hips. She was framed by a middle aged couple whom I assumed were her parents.  We locked eyes and she turned slightly into her hood.

"Give her the flower" echoed clearly in my head.

I respectfully asked the older couple if it would be OK to give her the flower. They said yes, so I knelt and gently handed it over. I introduced myself and told her that I was also battling cancer. Her face lit up amazingly. She caressed the edges of those rose pedals delicately as if it was her first flower. Perhaps it was, seemingly signifying the many floral events that mark a young woman's life: Prom, First Dates, Weddings, Anniversaries, Valentine's Days...

I got in my car and drove off with tears in my eyes.

The rest of the day remained calm as I reflected on what had transpired. Not analyzing its meaning nor its value. Neither asking if a God or higher force was involved. But just realizing in the silence of the moment what cancer, or any other catastrophic events, can teach us: The joy in the unbearable lightness of being.