Dayenu: A Cancer Journey of Strength, Healing, and Trust

In January, I mentioned that my newsletter was fashionably late due to an ER visit, and I told you I was "OK (I promise!)”.

Wellll... I didn't intentionally lie. I really meant it at that moment. I didn't know what I didn't yet know.

Just like I never meant to break my beloved husband's number one rule: that I was only allowed to get cancer once.

But here we are. A second cancer journey.

Shiiit.

There is a traditional Passover song called Dayenu. It's a gratitude song that lists a series of miracles and blessings that occurred during my people's Exodus from Egypt.

One by one, the blessings of the Exodus are named, and after each one, everyone sings together: "Dayenu. It would have been enough."

It's the idea that even one of these gifts would have been sufficient. And yet, we received ALL of them.

Living Dayenu Loca

I've been living my own 2026 version of Dayenu. So I'm going to tell you this story the way I've been living it - one impossible, grace-filled, absurd, beautiful beat at a time.

Nine years ago, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin Lymphoma. I endured the nastiest, most miserable wrecking ball of chemo cocktails that they don't even do anymore because it was that nasty.

I was bolted to a table for radiation. A Hannibal Lecter-style mask squeezing my windpipe. Fully convinced, more than once, that I might not make it out alive.

I made it out alive. With the help of my beloved’s devotion, Bob Marley, and Israel's finest medical cannabis.

It would've been enough… to have survived Hodgkin Lymphoma. Dayenu.

Which is why it seemed cosmically cruel when a perimenopausal mess of hormones decided to morph into uterine cancer. My body, apparently, has a lot of feelings.

A hysterectomy was scheduled within a month. Swift. Decisive. Ready to get this bitch out. Followed by chemo that’s allegedly less nasty and more manageable than what I had before.

It would've been enough… to have a surgery date. A plan. A path. Dayenu.

Then I missed that date because I developed a fierce infection that landed me in the hospital for six days, at risk for sepsis.

A mystery infection, which turned out to be thanks to an abscess, thanks to most likely an errant piece of necrotic cancer that happened to be waltzing by my tubo-ovarian area and decided to get stuck there.

And here's where it gets Dayenu-weird: I happened to get the exact right infectious disease doctor.

One who faithfully visited me everyday in the hospital. Who stuck it out until he found the source of the infection and the right solution to not only get the infection under control, but also to ensure it wouldn’t get stirred up in my system ahead of whenever surgery would be.

A doctor who didn't blink at my F-bombs, laughed at my fart jokes (these antibiotics are no joke!), and met me on the same page of all my literary references.

I was sent home with a PICC line. A 24/7 IV antibiotic drip. No sleeping or showering with abandon. But I had that guy in my corner.

It would've been enough… to land in the right hands when my body needed it most. Dayenu.

Then my second surgery date got delayed.

A CT scan flagged a possible fistula between organs, which would have meant bowel repair on top of the hysterectomy. Fries with that Coke, anyone?

And here's the part that still gives me chills: My intuition had been screaming that the new surgery date was all wrong on a deep, existential, "better get my affairs in order" level. A core, nagging, unmistakable knowing.

My medical team paused. New imaging followed. No fistula (best news!).

Even better: my medical team's caution tanked the date I already knew was wrong.

It would’ve been enough… to have a body whose wisdom I’m finally learning to trust, and a team whose caution happened to meet me there. Dayenu.

And then, of course(!), I got COVID. For the first time. Ever. And yet…

Symptoms were fairly mild. My worry that my lungs would betray me never came true. And my bloodwork came back shockingly stellar.

Despite cancer. Despite infection. Despite COVID.

A fear I've carried for years - that my immune system might not function properly having had Hodgkin's - was put to rest.

It would've been enough… that my body, battered and in chaos, is still fighting for me. Dayenu.

To Those Walking This Path

I find myself thinking of all of you who have heard the words "You have cancer".

Anyone who is facing difficult procedures or treatment. And those who have survived, but still carry that quiet hum of vigilance or anxiety in your body, always listening for what might come next.

I see you. I am you.

Because on top of everything your body, mind, and spirit are already carrying, you often find yourself managing everyone else's experience of your situation.

They mean well. They love you. They are scared. And that fear takes on a variety of forms:

Advice… about their uncle's sister-in-law's cousin's friend who went on a soup diet.

Encouragement… because they know someone who didn't lose their hair from chemo.

Hang in there! You've got this! You're a warrior! Kick cancer's ass!

Even the people who have the chutzpah to tell you how you gave yourself cancer... mean well:

Last time it was my clean, green diet and stress. This time it's apparently my anger at the patriarchy. You truly can't make this shit up.

It gives them something to hold onto. Something they can control. Because sitting in the not-knowing - in the helplessness of loving someone who is suffering, and not knowing the outcome - is one of the hardest things there is.

So they reach - in the best way they know how.

I see you.

And if you need support - not fixing, not cheerleading or toxic positivity, not judgment - but real, grounded, nervous-system-level support, that's exactly what I do.

You don't have to carry the weight of everyone else's fear while you're navigating your own.

It would've been enough… to simply be seen. To not have to carry it alone. Dayenu.

When Healing Others Heals You

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I’m still doing the work I was called to do. Because helping others regulate their nervous systems is one of the most healing things for me, too.

I recently guided someone through a profound meditation. This was no ordinary stress-buster session with a client on the other side of the world, where air raid sirens can split the atmosphere without warning.

And while I usually suggest minimizing distractions (including pets), her cat had other plans and climbed onto her mid-session, at the peak of calm.

Normally my inner chatter might go, "There goes the flow." But what happened instead was something unexpectedly beautiful.

The cat simply reached out a paw and placed it gently on her mom's face. Then it rested its cheek softly against her mom's cheek and stayed there, calmly, for about a minute.

When the meditation ended, my client apologized for the feline interruption. But she also shared that she intuitively felt her cat needed to tap into the peaceful energy she was experiencing. After all, the animals are also on edge from the sirens.

She reflected on her meditative experience:

"I feel great! Like there's less weight on my chest. I feel supported and light. I loved it."

It was a reminder that when we create space for calm, peace, and safety, that energy doesn't stay contained. It magnifies. It spreads. Sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

It would've been enough… to do work that heals others and, in doing so, heals me. Dayenu.

The MRI, Bob Marley, and a Portal

I also recently had my first MRI. Someone once described it to me as a “metal coffin.” My experience?

Piece. of. fucking. cake.

What I realized inside that machine: I could breathe. There was space. I wasn't trapped. And suddenly, I wasn't there at all.

And just like how I got through radiation back when, Bob Marley showed up. This time with Ziggy. And Sister Nancy.

Suddenly I wasn’t in a machine. I was floating in the warm waters of Turks & Caicos… Hawai‘i… the Mediterranean.

Calm. Grounded. Free.

Self-hypnosis is powerful. Our minds are far more powerful than we’re taught to believe.

Medical experiences don’t have to feel like something happening to you. They can become something you move through with agency, with calm, with control.

So while I was mid-MRI, I created an entirely new hypnotic offering for people who have medical anxiety and fear of tight spaces. Because even there, in a metal tube, one can find spaciousness.

It would've been enough… to remember that my mind can carry me anywhere. And so can yours. Dayenu.

Spring. Passover. Liberation. Transformation.

It's no coincidence that all of this is unfolding now. Outside, spring is doing what spring does - pushing through ground without asking permission. Not waiting for the conditions to be perfect. Just… becoming.

And Passover tells the same story: a movement from constriction to freedom. From the narrow places into something wider. Not all at once. Not without struggle. But step by step, the threshold crossed.

I am at one of those thresholds now. Being asked to find strength in places I didn't know I had. To trust my inner authority. To listen deeply. To move forward - even when I can't see the whole path.

This is, of course, the very foundation of my Clear, Calm, Confident™ method - the framework I've built my practice around, the one I guide clients through on their transformative journeys.

I didn't design it from theory. I designed it from the inside of moments exactly like this one I'm experiencing now.

Clarity doesn't mean knowing every answer. Calm doesn't mean nothing hurts. Confidence doesn't mean you're not scared.

Something in me is insisting on becoming. Not because everything in my situation is certain. But because something in me is.

Clear in my mind. Calm in my body. Confident in the unfolding.

It would've been enough… to feel even a flicker of that inner knowing. Dayenu.

The past few months have shaken me. I've learned a lot. I've been reminded that the simplest joys are often the most meaningful. And love has flowed in so deeply that it takes my breath away.

If I zoom out… If I look at this through the lens of Dayenu… I see something I might have otherwise missed. Not just the weight of what’s happening. But the layering of what’s being given.

It would've been enough to feel like the luckiest person in the world to have the "village" I have and that the love, support, and friendship I feel from all over the world is beautiful and overwhelming. Dayenu.

A Gentle Invitation

If you are walking through something right now - a diagnosis, a procedure, or even post-treatment lingering anxiety - and your nervous system doesn't quite know where to land, you don't have to hold it all alone.

This is the work I do. Not to fix you. Not to override anything. But to help you find that place inside you that already knows how to be at ease, deeply secure, and self-trusting.

Even here. Even now. Even in the narrow places, on the way to something wider.

If that kind of support would feel helpful, I'm here.🧿

It would have been enough. And still Dayenu. I got it all.

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Jennifer Dolinka, M.S., is a Certified Hypnotist, trained conflict analyst, and creator of the Clear Calm Confident™ method. After years working internationally in complex organizational environments, she now supports clients around the world in navigating something even more fundamental: the inner conflicts that keep them stuck.

Jennifer helps self-aware, capable humans release anxiety and self-doubt, shift limiting beliefs, ease stress and discomfort, and reconnect with their own clarity and inner wisdom. She specializes in supporting professionals, students, and survivors who are ready to move from overwhelm to grounded confidence.

Her work blends science-informed hypnotherapy, experience-based insight, and a deep respect for the mind–body connection. Above all, Jennifer’s approach is collaborative and empowering – helping clients change patterns at the root so life can move forward with greater ease and self-trust.

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