Dear Hemingway,
It was you who said "write hard and clear about what hurts", right? So Hemingway this letter is for you.
I had much more world to see when I opened the result of the biopsy of my cervix and it said "adenocarcinoma in situ". Like any writer, I love words, but this is not exactly a pretty word, nor is it easy to understand, especially after your life has fallen apart. The pandemic had already taken many things from me, but that diagnosis took away my hopes of traveling so soon, and it all became a shelved desire, isolated and locked away somewhere in the soul, while many days passed by the window.
Cancer. Cancer was the loneliest trip I ever made and without a doubt the one that took the most courage. Courage that I never recognized I had. But it took a lot of courage to avoid surgery, to look for alternatives, to study all the articles I could to try to find a cure. It took courage to save my uterus, to overcome depression and to go on, somehow, in the way I believed.
I always knew that there is a lot of strength inside of us, to face life whenever we need to. I know because it was Evita my bicycle who taught me. She taught me that with our own legs we can go much further than we can imagine, and the path always guides us. With Evita I crossed part of Europe, cycling 1650 kilometers from Barcelona to Amsterdam. I crossed some stretches of Brazil and went further than I could ever imagine.
It was Evita who taught me that when the going gets tough, we should look at the ground, distracting our devils. It was by looking at the ground and distracting my devils that I did the treatment. It was by looking at the ground that life went one day at a time. In that process, I think Evita was part of my healing. Our lonely rides, the wind in my face, and a sense that I could still be free, at least a little. Evita was my birthday present in 2012 and so many things we went through together, to the point where I felt she was a kind of guardian angel, guiding me through the paths I needed to take. I learned a lot from a bicycle, even without knowing that bicycles could teach so much.
After 8 months of treatment, I had my first clean pap smear, no cancerous cells, and everything seemed fine. But in July, at another routine examination, they discovered a large cyst on my right ovary. Doctors, exams, ultrasounds and needles. On the eve of my 40th birthday I had the news that I have deep endometriosis.
The pain, a bouncing belly detonating any self-esteem, the fear, the sadness. A cancer followed by a chronic disease and considered incurable by doctors is not easy. But I vowed to follow the teachings of my bicycle. I decided that I would face everything until the end, distracting my devils and following.
Yesterday I heard a strange noise at the gate. It was very late and I couldn't sleep. I thought at the time "the bicycle", but told myself "go to sleep, Helga, you just have too many things on your mind".
Today when the neighbor shared in the building's group that the electric grids were broken, I already knew. But still I ran to the garage with some hope. When I saw the empty hook, it was as if an immense emptiness entered my chest, breaking and taking everything that was left. I sat on the floor breathless, staring at it in disbelief as the tears came.
Hemingway, I don't know if I am able to write hard and clear about this pain. I'll probably never be a good writer as you were. But life is hurting so much during the last two years. I know for you, and maybe for many people it is just a bicycle. But for me it was my story, my freedom, my therapy and my healing. Evita was the wind in my face on those days when I feel too tired to go on. And it was stolen from me.
I just waned to find some hope now,
All the best,
H.
