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Published on 11/02/1998 All articles from this issue

Nibbling demons

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By Kerri Havnen Gordon

The Living Experiment

The demons visited me last week. I hadn't seen them for a long while but knew they would eventually find reason to return. And return, they did, insidiously intruding on my night's sleep and bringing with them fear and dread.

A few days earlier, during my yearly medical checkup, a growth was found, suspicious enough to cancel my day in favor of further exams and a rather frightening test called a cancer antigen blood screen.

"I'm sure it's fine," my doctor had said, and as I was to find out five days later, it was indeed fine, and so was I, to my enormous relief.

Naturally I was concerned, but my busy schedule over the next two days preoccupied me, keeping my fears at arm's length. But on the third day, a non-busy Sunday, my composure began to crumble.

So it didn't surprise me when, at 1 a.m. on Sunday night, the demons came to visit.

They awakened me with a sharp I-might-have-a-cancer jolt, and they began nibbling at me in earnest. As they worked, panic replaced reason, fatalism replaced optimism, insecurity replaced confidence, fear replaced joy. As I laid there, I wondered how the doctor would break the bad news: Would it be on the phone or in her office? If they asked me to come in, the demons informed me, that was surely a bad sign. Would they call my husband so he could be with me? How could I possibly handle having cancer? The demons even dressed me in a T-shirt that said, "I'd rather lose my hair to chemo than lose my life to cancer." What would I tell my children? Would I have to quit my job? Would I have time to finish my book? I'm only 37.

On and on the demons nibbled.

As I neared the end of one dark path, a sleepy fog would wash over me, and just as I was about to drift off, a new demon visited, propelling me back to uneasy wakefulness.

I remember saying to myself: "OK, you've gone through all the horrible scenarios; let's try a nice scenario." Just as I envisioned receiving a reassuring call from my doctor deeming me cancer free, the demons would interrupt before I could rejoice. It angered me that I couldn't chase them away.

As I showered the next morning, reason, optimism, and confidence gradually returned, and I thought about the night's demons and the powerlessness I had felt in their grip. But mostly I felt grateful that, as the saying goes, things looked brighter by the light of day.

During the day, our self-preservation mechanisms usually shield us from our darkest of fears and protect us with rational thought, even in the face of uncertain anxiety. During the day it is much easier to cope. Now that my scare is behind me, I've been talking with other women about night demons, and I find that various demons pester them, too, relentlessly pulling at the subconsciousness and searching for the bleakest of possibilities.

When I received the happy call from my doctor, I rejoiced. Later I thought again about the demons. Perhaps certain fears are too powerful to attend to during the day and can be more honestly processed during the unguarded wee hours. I am convinced that, even though they were unpleasant, they helped me face and then purge my fears. And if the news had been bad, those same demons would have helped me prepare for the harrowing journey ahead. Either way, there was more to them than a lost night's sleep. My demons served a useful purpose, which is something I hope to remember next time they come calling.

Kerri Havnen Gordon writes The Living Experiment monthly for the Town Crier.