In September 2000, I was diagnosed with advanced Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and told, “There is no cure.” At first I felt frozen with fear, with almost no Strength at all. For a few days, I let cancer define me.

Restful sleep came only near dawn, after hours of anguished tossing and turning. I would wake in the new day with a split second of peacefulness and then remember, Cancer cells have invaded my body and they are growing.   

I wanted to learn about lymphoma, but I could digest only a little bit of information at a time. It took great Strength just to the read material and look at diagrams of aberrant cells. It took tremendous Strength to face the reality of my diagnosis. 

The disease led me to examine my convictions.

In The Twelve Gifts of Birth I had written about Strength: May you remember to call upon it whenever you need it. I had offered that advice to so many others in both my personal and professional life. Could I heed it now? During the previous year on the Polished Stone Tour, I had said to thousands of children and adults throughout the country, “No matter who we are, no matter what we face, we have these powerful gifts within us that can help us heal, enrich, and empower every area of our lives.”

Hm-m-m. Could I walk my talk?  Would I?

Before the first of six chemotherapy treatments, my doctor said, “This is a time to draw upon your strength.  It will make a difference.  Do what makes you strong.”

I gave a lot of thought to that: what makes me strong? Dealing with cancer–or any life challenge–can be a means to discovering more inner Strength, but how? We all have our own ways of coping and responding to our best advantage.  How do I figure out what works best for me? And will I have the Strength to do it?

So, I gave a great deal of thought to What empowers me? After praying, reflecting, and tuning in for inner guidance, I recalled a story I had heard in a high school class about Ivan Pavlov. He is most famous for his behavior studies with dogs. But did you know that when Pavlov was ill with a serious infection (before the discovery of penicillin) he did something remarkable to make himself strong?

With his hands in a bucket of mud from a nearby river, Ivan re-enacted a scene from his childhood: in his mind, he saw himself playing in the warm mud next to his mom while she did the laundry in the river. He even envisioned her singing and telling him stories–something she always did. Apparently, the sense of well-being and joy Ivan re-created for himself was so strong that it returned him to homeostasis. Eventually, the fever broke and he was cured.

Remembering this about Ivan Pavlov led me to a variety of activities that were like my own version of “playing in the mud.” I never enjoyed playing in the mud as a child. But the sand? Oh yes! I loved making sand castles at the New Jersey shore, swimming in the ocean, and going on boardwalk rides. So, I recreated a sense of my childhood love of the seashore–the joy and well-being that went with that–by smelling suntan lotion every morning.

I also re-enacted other childhood experiences of happiness by coloring while listening to soothing music, daydreaming, and dancing. I also blew bubbles, played jacks, and turned a few cartwheels (clumsily, which led me to laugh and lighten-up). All these simple activities seem to fill and re-fill a tank of Strength in me, so that an abundant supply of Strength was always ready to flow through me.

During the five months of chemotherapy, I needed to call upon that reserve of Strength again and again: on treatment days when I welcomed the toxic chemicals into my body, to do their intended work; for the 24 hours following each chemo cocktail, when my body felt like a dried-out, hot oven, and I needed strength to accept that sensation; to embrace being completely hairless and to become comfortable in my body instead of feeling like an alien being. I also needed Strength to shift my focus again and again from fear to hope.

It seemed wise to nourish Strength daily and keep the supply flowing and growing. I made sure, no matter how tired or listless I may have felt, that I regularly filled my Strength tank by engaging in activities that empowered me. In addition to the childhood re-enactments, I drew Strength from nature, music, books, films, friends, family, therapeutic touch, aromatherapy, inspirational stories, meditation, and prayer.

My doctor had given me sound advice. He was right. Building Strength did make a difference…in many ways. Among those ways, after five months of treatments, all tests results said: No evidence of cancer.

I continue to let those words guide me: Do what makes you strong. It seems to me that, no matter what is going on… in my world, or in the world… it is always a very good time to draw upon Strength.