Take That, Cancer

 

I have always wanted to go to Cologne Cathedral. 

The facts are impressive – the largest Gothic church in northern Europe and a UNESCO World Heritage site. It took 600 years to build and has the largest bells in the world. 

It’s magnificent. It made the travel agenda five months after I finished chemotherapy. I barely had any air, and I wasn't sure I had enough energy to take the trip, let alone climb a bell tower.

Nonetheless, I decided to climb the tower. All 533 steps. Tiny steps in an enclosed spiral staircase. No place to rest until you’re almost at the top.

It’s a commitment for anybody, and I wondered briefly if I was foolish. What if I got tired? I was no stranger to fatigue these days. What if it was too much? I was still anemic and occasionally felt lightheaded. What if, what if, what if…

I started up the steps, slowly and carefully. And kept going and going, relishing the view along the way. I marveled that I was able to walk that narrow staircase, when months ago it was a challenge to walk from my bed to the kitchen. Tears stung my eyes as I put one foot in front of the other and felt the real healing of my body.

When I got to the top, I soaked in the view, as the city of Cologne spread out far below. “Take that, Cancer,” I said.

Take that, indeed.