The Unexpected Blessings of Falling Ill

*Starling murmuration, Oxford. All photos: Arzoo Ahmed*

Dear friends,

To be honest, I wasn’t expecting so many of you to write, and I certainly wasn’t expecting the deep, specific, personal, wide-ranging guidance that you’ve been sharing, in response to my query in Sharing some personal news about what helps you get through hard times. With every email, text, phone call I receive, tears come easily; then I’m strengthened over and over again with your words of courage, confidence, encouragement, and pure love. There is no way to adequately thank you. It’s what’s keeping me going.

You've shared verses from the Quran that focus on healing and forbearance, and voice recordings of you singing church hymns that comfort you. You've sent photographs of budding blooms from your daily walks, and of stunning nature scenes you’ve captured from around the world that ground you (see the gorgeous photos included). You've shared your movie and Netflix suggestions and favorite comedies because sometimes mindless binging and laughter is indeed the best medicine. You've sent songs that make you dance, and classical guitar music that calms you. You've shared creative practices that are cathartic, including doodling and crochet and ikebana flower arranging. And heartfelt wisdoms from your own experiences, from Greek stoic philosophers, from Sufi poets, and from Dory ("Just keep swimming"). So many of you have shared how being grateful for every little thing that's right in front of you centers you and keeps you moving forward.

I’m cutting and pasting your messages and putting them in a document so I can print them out and keep them close—the doc is over 70 pages long!—especially since I got some bad news last week, that my cancer is more aggressive than the doctors had thought and I will need chemotherapy first. Your words will help me get through this unexpected hurdle.

I'm sharing a few messages below, with permission, in the hope that they'll help bolster your strength too for whatever you may be facing.

One of the first messages I received was from my cousin, the night before my surgery. He wrote, that our life events are connected to and influenced by experiences of people who came before us—our parents and our ancestors; and that how we live our life and handle our challenges will influence how our children and theirs will deal with their own experiences. A tree’s trunk captures what it goes through, like fires and floods; but for us it’s etched in our souls. Our soul connects us to people in our past and in our future. “As you prepare for a new chapter in your life tomorrow," my cousin wrote, "make sure you go in with the strength of people before you, and try and leverage your own strength that will leave an imprint on your soul (your trunk) which will do you proud, and will illuminate your soul for generations in your future.”

I read this message over and over in the hours before surgery; I read it separately to Arif, Saanya, and Zayd, articulating each time what I thought it meant. After surgery, as I was just starting to wake up, my eyes and mind still groggy with anesthesia, I saw my kids standing by my bedside and whispered to them, “Was I a good tree trunk; did I make you proud?”

Last week, I found a bag outside my door. One of the items inside was a bright floral box; inside the box was a small piece of paper with a three letter word on it, and a note. The note read, "What words can I find in the jumble of my mind to power your strength, hope, and courage?" This friend remembered a KindSoup call that we had been on in January 2023; we've been making soup together via Zoom for people in need most Mondays for over three years. On that call, I had asked everyone to think of their word for the new year; I shared that my word was "soup" for what it represents about enjoying life slowly so not to get burnt (My word for the year). She thought of her word that day. And in that beautiful box, which she had bought on a recent trip to Japan just days after her husband had passed away, she gifted me her word. "Can".

She wrote, "You can do your best, whatever the best is for that day you face. And you can allow hands to help. And you can hear the news you want to hear and the news you don't want to hear, and move forward. And you can pray and accept prayers and sit in silence. And you can laugh and cry and know that the emotions we feel are simply moments in time. They will pass. And you shall know that you can.

She suggested I collect words from others, so I have many to select from for any given difficult moment. So far the box contains amor fati (love your fate); faith; sterkte (strength in Dutch); and pure love (my husband's word). Hope you'll hit reply and share your one word with me; I'll add it to my box.

*Fall forest, between Jackson Hole and Salt Lake City*

Another friend shared this beautiful message: "The greatest difficulty ahead is not physical.…Your pain will be in wrestling with thoughts that accompany you into waiting rooms, treatment chairs, and dark rooms at night. Unwelcome thoughts made real by the vibrancy of your imagination. Magnified by the worry of others, who are well intentioned but uneven in their helpfulness. Certain anecodotal stories you hear, or read, or watch can also prove deleterious. So, I offer you a mental sword. A large, ornate weapon that your beautiful mind conjures so you can slay the mental dragons—fictitious beasts—that emerge from time to time. When your heart rate increases, pull out your sword and swing furiously. Carry it with you everywhere to protect you from you. You are an elegant, lithe, skillful Samurai in your own action film."

Speechless.

What's been amazing to me is that many of the messages are from people I don't know very well, we've met just once at a dinner or an event; that they've taken the time to write and call and share in such a personal way means so much. Through these exchanges our bonds have deepened in a way that eclipses time spent together. What a priceless gift, of true friendship.

One more thing. I was feeling badly that I couldn't do my traditional 30 days blog this Ramadan as I have for over a dozen years, each year focusing on a different theme from 30 good deeds to 30 wisdoms from our elders, and so on. Little did I know that this year it would become a collaborative effort—you’d fill in when I wasn’t able to and come up with many more than 30 results. Thanks to you, this year's unexpected theme became: 30 days, 30+ inspirations (to cope with life's challenges).

There are many things I don’t know, so many questions that still whir through my mind at night—should I freeze my scalp to preserve my hair; how will I react to chemo; what will I be like physically, mentally after all these treatments; will I live in fear.

I don’t know the answers to these questions, but there is one thing I know for sure.

Cancer doesn’t stand a chance to this kind of love.

With all my love and gratitude,

Salma

PS: For those celebrating, wishing you a beautiful Eid in a couple of days. We'll be celebrating with our kids and family over prayers and brunch; then I'll head to Georgetown Hospital to meet with a medical oncologist to discuss chemo. Talk about joy and difficulty wrapped up together, as I talk about in We'll get through this InshAllah.