Heart Aflame - The Gift of June

I've been meaning to sit down and pen this post over the past few days but a lot was up in the air. Besides, denial is a strange beast that is best dealt with patience. He's a blubbering old chap with the heart of a child, hence denial needs tender patience. He eventually comes around. He always does. Kicking and screaming.

Anyway. I have cancer. Endometrioid Adenocarcinoma to be exact. Please don't ask me about grade and stage, I don't want to get into particulars on this public post because I still feel a bit emotionally fragile.

My symptoms began manifesting in January '24 but I kept giving it time (denial, again) thinking the symptoms would iron out on their own. They didn't. In March, the symptoms compelled me to visit three doctors in Islamabad but I wasn't satisfied. On the behest of my mother, we went back to Lahore to SKMCH.

I've had one surgery so far. My second one takes place this month - perhaps as soon as this week. I'm not sure if chemotherapy and radiation will be added to the mix, but I'm mentally prepared for it. Having witnessed my only sibling go through treatment over the course of 7 years, the big 'C' word, cancer, wasn't that traumatizing when I got my biopsy result. Still, it was a shocker, who am I kidding.

I've been a bag of emotions. I'm brave and tight-lipped one minute, and the next, curled up and sobbing like a child. And I'm not a big crier so my reactions too, are very new to me.

While I am a bit of a morbid pessimist, my mother's militant optimist genes run strong in my veins. It's a funny mix and sitting here typing this out I can only giggle. I finally realize why I can be so logical and sceptical one minute, and the next, be this gooey mess of trust in the magic of the Universe.

I'm scared. I've come around to the fact that I'll never have children. I cried a lot about this. I am now, too. I always dreamed of motherhood, a little boy and girl with round features, bubble toes, twinkly eyes...in fact, the other day I walked straight into Durrani & Co. (a stationary and art supply shop in Islamabad) and picked up paints, brushes and a sketch pad because I wanted to draw miniature diagrams of a baby in a womb, a baby's hands and feet...I think I want to use art to feel as close to the process of motherhood as possible. I'm yet to draw and paint, but I'm certain I will, perhaps as I'm healing post surgery.

A few days after my first surgery as I waited for my biopsy result, I took a dear friend to a clay workshop in Bani Gala. Sitting at the table with a number of other attendees, my hands began kneading and pulling the soft clay into the shape of a sunflower.

And then, mid-way, my subconscious mind coughed up an image of a terracotta Mother Goddess figurine. Here's a picture of me below with it - it didn't turn out too great, but I love the thickness of it, the lovely big belly, beautiful rounded hips and a sunflower symbol in the centre of her womb.

I don't want your pity. But I do want you to allow me to share my thoughts here without judgment...

We humans are quite self-obsessed in our self-pity, don't you think? Day before yesterday, after logging into Instagram, I saw a post pop up on my feed: Hadiqa Kiyani with her teenage son vacationing in Italy. My tears evaporated and something inside me said: Look Sonya, you have options! If Hadiqa Kiyani can adopt a little baby, so can you. If Nadia Jamil can adopt a little girl post-cancer, so can you! And then it made me realize: life doesn't have to be one straight, tried and tested path. I can make my own path along the way, the roadmap may be a little unclear, but I can do it.

I have plenty more thoughts to share. I will. In the days and weeks to come.

Love,

Sonya.