This past Sunday was July 17th, which has little significance in the grand scheme of things (unless it’s your birthday). But for me, it is a date indelibly written into our families life. On this date, I was told that I had leukemia. Blood cancer. More specifically CLL with a 17p deletion, for which there is no cure and a mortality prognosis of 2-3 years. That was 3 years ago on Sunday.
Thankfully an initial round of chemotherapy was followed up with a regiment of the latest ‘miracle drug’ ibutrinib which has provided me life and hope that the new drugs in the pipeline can eventual cure all blood cancer. So, it is my job to hang around long enough to be one of the first cured of CLL 17P.
Earlier in the week in the waiting area at Duke for monthly blood tests I was seated next to a middle aged black man who had a beeper like me and hospital wristband indicating that he was a patient as well. The TV was airing the Good Morning America program with George Stephanopoulos and Robin Roberts. I like GMA mainly because I am a Robin Roberts fan, as I read her book (Everybody’s Got Something) which chronicled her recent battle with cancer. I am a fan of anyone who looks the big C in the face and is still alive!
So much of the news has been coverage of the Dallas shootings and the subsequent protests around the country. Many of us were glued to the TV and it seemed that me and my fellow patient simultaneously shook our heads side to side in discouragement as we watched the interviews. When the commercial break came, I found it ironic that the advertisement was for a cancer treatment drug. I looked around the large waiting room of the Duke Cancer Center and I counted nearly 50 people, and ¾ of us had wristbands. I also noticed that there were an equal number of black people as white in the room and I it dawned on me that apparently cancer has no prejudice.
When the news coverage returned with more interviews of the police chief, I turned to my neighbor and asked him "so what do you think of this mess?" He said "its all part of life man, things change and we need to keep talking to each other instead of shooting each other." I said "Amen.” His buzzer went off and he went back to have his blood drawn. I sat and watched GMA until my buzzer did the same.
It was a ‘lab and wait’ day for me, where they draw blood and an hour later I meet with my oncologist to discuss the results. If my blood counts are unchanged, which is good, then it’s a high five with the doctor, a short visit and a prayer of thanks that the medicine is still winning against the leukemia. I will continue this dance until that is not the case and then we will make a new chemistry game plan. After giving my blood downstairs, I checked in on the 5th floor to see my doctor. I went to the waiting room, and the patient from downstairs was there as well, and he was staring out the window at the magnificent Duke Chapel, which is exactly where I always go to wait for my doctor. He didn’t see me coming, so when I sat down next to him, he smiled and said jokingly "Hey man, you stalking me?”
I chuckled and replied "no, just trying to get some good blood counts this morning, how about you?" He responded "I am just happy to be here. I survived cancer in 2010, God has given me a second chance and this is my annual physical to confirm I am still cancer free. God is good.” I smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Just then the nurse called his name and he got up and went into the clinic. As he passed I said "God bless you brother. He smiled, “you too.”
I sat there overlooking the Duke Chapel and realized I could feel this man’s spirit and sense his faith, his joy and his appreciation for life even in the short exchanges we shared. I thought to myself "I wonder what his cancer was?" Then a nonsensical thought passed through my head: "I wonder what color it was."
I felt awkward by the thought, wondering if I was reflecting some sort of racial bias or racism just by asking the question about color. I certainly hope not, but it was an honest thought. I was uncomfortable for a moment, but then something whispered in my spirit; "silly, cancer has no color!” and I chuckled.
I sat there, marinating in that thought and still slightly unsettled at heart. Perhaps I was anxious about my blood test, or troubled by the news on TV and concern for our country, or both. Just then I heard the voice in my heart again. "Scott, your soul has no color either. Color is your issue, not mine.” I looked up above the top of the Chapel.
Whoa, that was a little heavy for 8:15 in the morning, but I heard it clear as day on my heart. God had whispered to me.
And now, I wish somehow I could share that truth with so many hurting people of all races across our country today. A SOUL HAS NO COLOR.
I sat there in prayer until my nurse invited me back. I prayed for the man who I had encountered in both waiting rooms, I prayed for my own family and I prayed fervently for our United States. So much about America doesn’t really seem ‘united’ today. These are important times for future generations. While I don’t have any answers, I do know some things are true eternally, including ALL life matters and our souls have no color! And if it took my leukemia to provide a deep understanding of that, so be it. At least I will live the rest of my life, however long that may be, with such important truths. Thanks for sharing my journey with me.
Amen and AMEN.