Cancer Connections

You gain strength, courage, and confidence

by every experience in which you really stop

to look fear in the face.

You are able to say to yourself,

“I lived through this horror.

I can take the next thing that comes along.”

– Eleanor Roosevelt

Sitting in the oncologist office waiting room, I had some time to look around at all the other people there waiting patiently for their names to be called.  I’ve done this before and I seem to do it every time I’m there.  I smile at the others in the room, because I figure if you are here, then we’ve got a connection.  Because let’s face it, there are plenty of other places to sit in this big ole world and I bet you wouldn’t choose the oncology waiting room to hang out in if you didn’t need to be there.  Or if your loved one didn’t need to be there.

Cancer evens us out.  Strange to say, right?  But I find that those of us who have endured cancer find it easier to simply connect with someone else who has been in the same boat.  It’s that common ground that we search for when we connect with someone else.  By simply being in the same doctor’s office, we can pretty much bet we’ve got or had the Big C and we’re hoping to get better and stay healthy.

Cancer isn’t choosy.  It doesn’t discriminate between races or genders.  Old or young, it matters not.  It comes in changing the lives of its patients and those who surround them.  Cancer bonds people.  Cancer breaks people down.  Cancer divides. Cancer unifies.  Cancer conquers some people and yet, there are others who conquer cancer.  It’s an equal-opportunity disease for which there’s no cure, yet.

Cancer connects people in ways that they might not necessarily connect.  The fear of death and the horror of cancer treatments, etc.  give you a bird’s eye view of what you are truly made of and there’s no place for sissy’s with cancer.  No matter with whom you talk, we’ve all had sleepless nights filled with worry and repeatedly question at every tumor marker test, if cancer has returned.  Many of us have endured surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, blood tests, needles, being poked and prodded by countless professionals and staff.  We’ve lost our hair, body parts and our dignity.  But I’ve learned that we don’t lose our loving hearts, nor our need for comfort or our precious souls to cancer.   It’s given me a new outlook on life.  Sure cancer has weakened parts of my life, but it also strengthened me.  It’s given me lessons on human nature that I would have never understood had I not endured the cancer.  It’s made me appreciate the little things and be unafraid of dying.  It’s changed my life in good and bad ways, but I try to concentrate on the good in my life at every turn.

What has cancer done in your life?

Shine On!

xo

Pink Post Gratitude to Lisa Boncheck Adams

Every person has a story. So, too, does each chair.

There is comfort in routine.

Some people are superstitious. Sometimes they want the same chemo nurse, the same appointment time, the same chair. “If it is working don’t mess with it” applies to many things about treating cancer.

I am always thinking about continuity and the stories that objects tell. I’ve written twice about the tape measure my plastic surgeon used to measure me before surgery. I’ll post those pieces again this month.

Whenever I sit in a chair in a doctor’s office I think about all of the people who have sat in that chair before I have.

Each person has a story. So, too, does each chair. That chair is the starting point for this piece from 2011.

………………………….

“I think so too”

That chair you’re sitting in?
I’ve sat in it too.
In waiting rooms. Chemo rooms. Prep rooms. For tests. Surgeries. Procedures. Radiation. Inpatient. Outpatient. Emergency visits. Routine visits. Urgent visits. To see generalists. Specialists. Surgeons. Alone. With friends. With family members. As a new patient. Established patient. Good news. Bad news. I’ve left with new scars. Prescriptions. Appointments. Words of wisdom. Theories. Guesses. Opinions. Statistics. Charts. Plans. Tests. Words of assurance. More bloodwork. Nothing new. Nothing gained. Nothing but a bill.

That feeling you’re having?
I’ve had it too.
Shock. Disbelief. Denial. Grief. Anger. Frustration. Numbness. Sadness. Resignation. Confusion. Consternation. Curiosity. Determination. Dread. Anxiety. Guilt. Regret. Loss. Pain. Emptiness. Embarrassment. Shame. Loneliness.

That day you’re dreading?
I’ve dreaded it too.
The first time you speak the words, “I have cancer.” The first time you hear “Mommy has cancer.” Anniversary day. Chemo day. Surgery day. PET scan day. Decision day. Baldness day. The day the options run out.

Those reactions you’re getting?
I’ve had them too.
Stares. Questions. Pity. Blank looks. Insensitivity. Jaw-dropping comments. Tears. Avoidance.

Those side effects you dread?
I’ve dreaded them too.
Nausea. Vomiting. Pain. Broken bones. Weakened heart. Baldness. Hair loss. Everywhere. Unrelenting runny nose. Fatigue. Depression. Hot flashes. Insomnia. Night sweats. Migraines. Loss of appetite. Loss of libido. Loss of breasts. Phantom pain. Infection. Fluid accumulation. Bone pain. Neuropathy. Numbness. Joint pain. Taste changes. Weight gain. Weight loss. Mouth sores. Fevers. Anemia.

That embarrassment you’re feeling?
I’ve felt it too.
Buying a swimsuit. Getting a tight-fitting shirt stuck on my body in the dressing room. Having a child say “You don’t have any eyebrows, do you?” Asking the grocery line folks to “make the bags light, please.” Wearing a scarf. Day after day. Wondering about wearing a wig because it’s windy outside and it might not stay on. Holding on to the bannister for dear life. Passing out in public.

That fear you’re suppressing?
I’ve squelched it too.
Will this kill me? When? How bad is chemo going to be? How am I going to manage 3 kids and get through it? Will my cancer come back and take me away from my life? Will it make the quality of life I have left so bad I won’t want to be here anymore? Is this pain in my back a recurrence? Do I need to call a doctor? What is worse: the disease or the treatment?

That day you’re yearning for?
I’ve celebrated it too.
“Your counts are good” day. “Your x-ray is clear” day. “Now you can go longer between appointments” day. “See you in a year” day. First-sign-of-hair day. First-day-without-covering-your-head day. First taste of food day. First Monday chemo-isn’t-in-the-calendar day. Expanders-out, implants-in day. First walk-without-being-tired day. First game-of-catch-with-the-kids day. First day out for lunch with friends day. First haircut day. “Hey, I went a whole day without thinking about cancer” day. “Someone asked me how I’m doing, I said ‘fine’ and I meant it” day.

That hope you have?

I have it too:
More research. Easier access. Targeted therapy. Effective treatments. Better quality of life. More options. Longer life. Less toxicity. Fewer guesses.

Ultimately, someday, for my children or grandchildren perhaps: a cure.

Don’t you think that would be amazing?
I think so too.

** I am so moved by Lisa’s story and this post that I had to share ~ thanks for reading.  I think it makes no difference whether you are fighting breast cancer like we have or any other illness.  We can bond together to heal…that’s the most important piece of the puzzle.

Shine On!

xo

Love You? Love Me?

“The most important thing in life is to

learn how to give out love,

and to let it come in.” Morrie Schwartz

I think that for me, giving out love is easier for me than receiving it.  Is that the same for you?   My gravatar and my chosen career is SendOut Love…I send out love through my blog, through my cards and through my connections to others.  To me, it comes easily and I love the enjoyment that comes with giving from the heart as it brings happiness to others as it in turn, brings me a wealth of happiness.

Multiple times a day I say, “I love you” to my family, friends, loved ones, 2 sweet kitties etc…and I mean it from my heart.  I am a very affectionate person by nature ~ spontaneously hugging and kissing my family daily.  I love that human connection and have more than once, reached out to a stranger that I felt needed a smile and a hello which have sparked many conversations much to the chagrin of my family who want to get going and not start talking in the grocery store to others.  But I get that ‘feeling’ and I just go with it.

Self-love on the other hand, in the scheme of things, is usually on the lower end of my ‘to do’ list.  Yes,  I love me, but somehow I feel it’s selfish and ego-istic to say that I love myself…at least that’s what I used to think.  Nowadays, I am finding that the more I love me, the more I love others.  As I’m beginning to take better care of me, I am finding that it’s changing the dynamic I have with others ~ for the better!

I’ve shared how routines can truly get us in a rut and it’s hard to break free when we’ve been so out of tune with ourselves.  I’m the first to admit I’m guilty of this, especially this year as I’ve been bombarded with crisis after crisis.  I felt like I was a chicken running around without a head, but no more.

I’ve told you about You Can Heal Your Life by Louise Hay.  Louise is a big believer in self-love and has many exercises in which you can bolster the love you have for yourself so that you can love others.  In fact, I highly recommend Louise’s book as it changed my life!

I remember when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer 10 years ago and BAngel gave me Louise’s book.  Dutifully I opened it and began to read.  Immediately I scoffed at the idea that my cancer was a dis-ease in my body and that with self-love, affirmations and a shift in thinking, I could help myself to heal.  At that time, my mind immediately turned off ~ what sort of hocus pocus was this book ~ I had CANCER!  Not a head cold or something that didn’t matter.  I was fighting for my life!  What was BAngel thinking?  And she was someone whom I’d known for years and respected…had she gone off of her rocker with this type of thinking?

So I went on with my life, lumpectomy, double mastectomy, chemo…until one day while laying in my bed after chemo, with my darling cat purring next to me on the bed, I picked up the book again…it had been a few months since I had tossed it by the wayside.  I started to read it in the quiet of the afternoon and it was as if a light began to grow inside of me.  The theories Louise explained so simply in her book grew inside of me like a small seed of hope.  Her ideas made complete sense to me and I felt like I spent the rest of the afternoon nodding my head in agreement with her.

I won’t take away the joy you will find in reading her book, but I will leave you with a link to get it!  You’ll know when the time is right to read it ~ when you’re ready, I”ll be here ~ we can have fun together knowing that YOU CAN HEAL YOUR LIFE!

xoxo

Gratitude Day 26 ~ Strength

Strength. Turn your face to the sun and shadows fall behind you.

We need strength now as we transition to getting used to not rushing to the hospital everyday, not worrying that every text or phone call could be ‘the one’ and learning to live without Dad.  There has been the utmost outpouring of support, stories and loving thoughts/prayers given to us which helps us continue to take the baby steps required in planning all that is needed for his memorial service etc.  But it’s hard…and unless you’ve experienced this part of growing up, you simply have no idea what you are missing…and quite frankly, stay that way please.

I liked this card because of Strength ~ but also because of turning towards the Sun ~ as I think we have a choice in how to remember those whom we loved.  You can turn towards the Sun and remember the Good in them or you can turn away and remember the sad, bad memories in the shadows.

Nobody is perfect (although secretly I think Dad thought he was!) ~ and so it is in truth that I say that I am choosing to remember the good times, the good memories and allow the bad ones to fall by the wayside, to exit the way many memories have gone via my chemo brain.  I figure I will keep my strength from faltering by basking in the beautiful memories of those around me, allowing their stories to bathe me in the love I had for my Dad.

Looking to the sun, allowing the shadows to fall behind…I think it’s the best way to be everyday.

Don’t you?

Thank you all for sharing your stories with me!

xo

Beauty…

People are beautiful if you love them.

When I awoke this morning,  I realized that 10 years ago, just around this time, my hair started falling out due to the chemotherapy I was enduring.  I won’t lie and tell you it was ok with me, because I distinctly remember that it wasn’t at all.  One particular day, I started crying in the shower because as I was washing my hair, my hands were coming away littered with clumps of my hair detached from my head.  It was, simply put, overwhelming.  And if you’ve been there, you know what I’m talking about ~ just not fun at all to say the least.

It was a few days after this gut wrenching beginning of baldness that I decided to take control of the side effects before they completely did me in.  Being the ‘girly girl’ that I can be, I decided to cut off my hair with the help of my supportive, loving hubby and a good bottle of champagne!  I tied my hair into little pony tails adorned with pink ribbons (ok a little theatrical,but I didn’t care) and we popped open the bottle of bubbly.

Hidden in our bathroom as our boys were safely watching the famous purple dinosaur Barney, we began to cut my hair because I wanted to feel like I was in control (even if were only technically that I was cutting it before it fell out)!  As I snipped off the first pink ponytail, leaving what seemed to me a giant sized hole in my pageboy, I handed it to my hubby reverently.  And I cried and I laughed because I couldn’t believe I had just cut off my own hair!    I won’t say that I was strong and did it without tears because life is about truth and my truth was that it was a hard thing to do, but it had to be done and I did it…and I am glad that I did it because I needed that reminder later on.

Perhaps because of the bubbly, or because it’s been a chemo-induced 10 years of time since then, I am a bit fuzzy as to whether I charged ahead and took off the rest of the ponytails, or if my hubby did.  However, one thing is certain, by the end of our hair-cutting session, I looked like Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby.   My normally brown pageboy with bangs, was now a close to the head, cropped version of Mia’s hairdo.  Lucky for me, my hubby was willing and able to stand by me while we took this stage of our journey together.

Shaving my head with the flowbee (or whatever that thing is called) was simply not a viable option for me.  I was not able to fathom going that far.  So we finished all the bubbly we could and together we emerged to see the boys and their reactions.

And there was none.  Simply put, hair or no hair, I was still Mommy…and they didn’t even notice ~ even when I showed them and asked if they liked my new ‘do…they were completely blase about the whole thing which I found so crazy because here I’d cut off my hair and my hubby had done the finishing touches to it so it didn’t look too awful and the boys were non-plussed.

What an amazing lesson for me ~ you see, I was still Mommy ~ still ME ~ and it took their non-reaction to make me see that ~ no matter what changes are made to my outer shell ~ I am still me ~ and so I send on this tidbit to you.  No matter what outer changes you are dealing with, deep inside you are still you.

Connect to that ‘me’ place today and know that I am applauding your Beauty!

xo

P.S.  And yes, I still have the first pink-ribboned ponytail hidden away in my jewelry box.