For Whom the Bell Tolls 
by John Donne 

No one is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each person’s death diminishes me,
For I am involved in humankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.

-       I finished radiation just before Christmas.  Upon completion, you are invited to ring a ceremonious bell signifying the end of treatment.  Your nurses, technicians, fellow patients, and family all cheer in solidarity.  I have celebrated with others over the past five weeks, and each time the bell tolls, I suppress an emotional response as I offer up a prayer for each comrade’s journey.  Although I am not actually acquainted with the other patients, this unfortunate journey inevitably creates a community.    

And I see that no one is an island entire of itself. 

Radiation was more challenging than I had imagined.  The commute was exhausting, as I chose to travel for a more specialized treatment, although it was made significantly easier by my hubby who made many of the trips with me, and by my friends who let me stay in a heated and furnished space unattached from their home.  I am beyond grateful for the hospitality and love they showed me.  In doing so, they became another part of my community.  Although the radiation itself is painless, the process was agonizing.  Because of my mastectomy, the position I had to hold for the 35-50 minutes was grueling. To distract myself, I would sometimes lean into the pain, pretending I was being stretch-tortured for information.  (Clearly, I’ve watched too many thriller series on Netflix.)  On my less optimistic days, I would give in – fine, I’ll tell you what you want to know.  Of course, in reality I couldn’t quit because I knew that would mean starting the entire process over again

But day by day, time passed.  I saw new people both starting and finishing their rounds of treatment.  I walked by large murals on my way to radiation with dedications to generous donors that made this incredible technology both possible and affordable.  Cliché, but it really does take a village.  Each day, I was welcomed by a warm and caring team of office staff, technicians, nurses, and doctors.  They greeted me by name and recalled important pieces about my life, which made me feel like a person and not a patient. 

I was a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

And then finally, it was my turn to ring the bell.  I could sense all the love and prayers offered in my direction.  It was touching, emotional, and powerfully unifying.  I realized, I was looking forward to that moment, not only because it meant that I was done with treatment, but even more because it was a symbol of connectedness.  It unified me with all of those who came before and will come after me.  And it also united me with all of those sending love and prayers my way.  That has been an incredibly touching part of both of my cancer journeys – the care and love and words of encouragement I have received from friends, family, and even acquaintances.  I cannot adequately express how meaningful it is to receive those affirmations. 

Each person’s death diminishes me; and as my pain diminishes others, they offer me support.

John Donne’s poem has always touched me.  I believe deeply in the connectedness of humanity.  Jesus specified that what you do unto the least of these you do unto me.  In the Islamic faith, there is a belief that serving others helps connect one to God.  Buddhism teaches about both the interconnectedness and independence of all things.  And so on with other faiths and beliefs.  In ringing that bell, I recognized that we are both benefactor and beneficiary at various times in our lives.  We have tremendous power to both give and receive and there is unique power in the experience of each. 

For I am involved in mankind.

The bell not only symbolized to me the completion of radiation but also the completion of the most challenging parts of my cancer treatment.  I am grateful that I should now be cancer-free and that the continued chemotherapy (every three weeks) is a preventative measure, in an attempt to ensure my cancer remains in remission.  Of course, the bell also rang as a symbol of our human connectedness. If 2020 has taught us anything, it is that we are all in this together.  Although our trials differ, we are connected through both the pain and the love.

Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.

Here’s to a better 2021 for all of us.