Tag: grateful

Seeing others through the lens of your heart

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Last week I found myself sitting in the waiting room of a breast imaging office.  It had been one year since my surprise breast cancer diagnosis and I was back for my annual scans.  In the past year I have undergone surgery, radiation, and the necessary follow-ups, but this was the first time they were specifically looking for any new developments.  To say I was anxious was an understatement.

As I was waiting to hear my name called by the Radiation Tech I noticed a woman, sitting a few seats away, with tears in her eyes.  I recognized the look of fear and uncertainty, as I am sure I have had a similar look many times over the last few years.  My heart immediately went out to her and I said “These scans can be really scary, can’t they?”  She began to cry and went on to explain she had recently noticed a lump, had a mammogram, and was referred to a breast surgeon.  She had seen the surgeon this morning and was now waiting to be called back for her biopsy.  As she continued, she expressed fear that it was cancer (as breast cancer ran in her family), she didn’t know if the surgeon she was referred to was a good one, and that this time of year was such an awful time for all this to be happening.  I was immediately drawn back to last year when I was experiencing the exact same emotions and concerns.

I asked her who the surgeon was that she had just met and the name she mentioned was my surgeon.  He was wonderful!  So compassionate, caring, willing to take whatever time you needed, and so knowledgeable and experienced in his field.  I immediately told her what great hands she was in and shared my very positive experience with him.  I also shared that I knew exactly what she was going through, as I was sitting where she now is just one year ago.  She asked me many questions about my diagnosis and subsequent treatments and seemed a little less fearful and alone.  I was never so thankful for an appointment running behind before and knew God had placed me in that exact seat, at that exact time, for just this reason.  We exchanged names and I told her I would be praying for her in the coming weeks.  She began to cry again, but this time from a place of some relief and a feeling of being heard and understood.

Just a few short years ago I don’t think I would have noticed a woman, emotionally distraught, sitting in a waiting room with me.  If I had I am not sure I would have engaged, as I wouldn’t have had any idea what I should say.  But that day I was there, present and willing to connect with another human being in need.  I was willing to see with my heart and not just my eyes.

I was called back just a few minutes later and prayed for her as I changed for my scans.  The wonderful news is my scans were clear and the surgeon doesn’t feel I need to be scanned again for another year.  I am so thankful, but am also very aware that it doesn’t always go that way.  My mammogram friend has been so on my mind and in my heart over the last week.  I will continue to pray for her as she awaits her pathology results and makes any necessary decisions over the next few weeks and months.  And I continue to be grateful that I was there that day and was able to see someone in pain instead of just being lost in my own fear over the tests of the day.

As this holiday season fast approaches, let’s all look for ways to see others through our hearts and not just with our eyes.  There are so many hurting people all around us who need our smile, kind glance, or willing ear.  Be on the lookout for opportunities to be for others what we sometimes need others to be for us.  Wishing each of you a peace that passes all understanding during this holiday season.

 

Radiation, but no chemo!

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Consultation after consultation.  More doctors’ appointments than I could keep straight.  I just looked back through my calendar and this is the list of who I saw just in January: Surgeon, Oncologist, Palliative Care, Dietician, Cancer Rehab, Radiation Oncologist, and Social Worker.  Thank goodness for good insurance.  The consensus was no chemotherapy was warranted (thank God), but daily whole breast radiation with a boost to the tumor site was recommended.  That began in February and completed in March.  April is mainly dedicated to recovery from the radiation treatment, physical therapy/rehab, my covid vaccines, and the start of daily maintenance meds (an aromatase inhibitor to suppress my estrogen production) for the next five years.  Please pray the side effects from that medication are minimal.  I am thankful for modern medical advancements, but am tired, both physically and mentally.

That was a long way to say I am well on the road to recovery and thank each one of you for your kind words, thoughts, and prayers over these last few months!  A cancer diagnosis is something no one ever wants, but far too many of us experience. We can do all we know to do to reduce our chances, but there is nothing that is guaranteed to make us bulletproof.  So, I continue to eat healthfully (whole food, plant based), work on my mental health (PTSD is a very real part of these journeys), and pray this is the last time I face this disease.  I know many of you have been affected by cancer or have someone close to you who has.  There is so much fear associated with this diagnosis.  I recently read “Courage is fear that has said its prayers.” So, I pray.  I pray for courage to just do the next thing and a peace that passes all understanding.  I pray that for every one of you as well.  Let’s embrace the comfort and hope that is found in community and continue doing this thing called life together!

 

Back in the fight

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It began just like any other day.  It was two weeks before Christmas, I had errands to run, and my annual mammogram and ultrasound scheduled.  And then it happened, “there is an abnormality on your ultrasound.”  “Most likely a glandular mass.”  “Recommend a biopsy just to be safe.”  Life went into slow motion.  What if it’s cancer again?  I can’t do this again!  I scheduled the biopsy for the following week.  The day arrived and the physician agreed with the original radiologist that it looked like a glandular mass (not a concern).  I would have the pathology in two days.  Those two days moved like molasses in winter.  And then the call from my GYN, it was Breast Cancer.  Cancer, a word I NEVER wanted to hear again in my life.

I saw the surgeon the week of Christmas and was scheduled for surgery the week between Christmas and New Year.  What a holiday season it was.  What-ifs weighed heavy on my mind at all times, even though I knew focusing on it every second wouldn’t change anything.  The day of surgery arrived.  First, I was sent for a sentinel lymph node injection and locating, then on to a needle localization (a wire is inserted into the mass using imaging guidance, that was fun).  Finally, it was time for surgery.  I was so thankful I was able to do all this as an outpatient, especially given the current Covid situation.  Now to start the surgery recovery and await the pathology.  The lab was really backed up with two holidays in the previous two weeks and the understaffing because of the pandemic.  What should have been two to three days dragged on to nine, long days.  When it finally came back this past week the results were favorable (as favorable as a cancer can be).  I will see the surgeon for follow-up this coming week and get more information then.

Then, I’m off to the oncologist.  I am hoping the next steps won’t include chemotherapy!  There’s that work, Hope.  It seems to appear more in my life in the last few years than ever before.  Hope is so important, but sometimes so elusive. There have been so many times in my cancer battles that hope felt all but lost.  Yet here I am!  I am left wondering what the purpose is in all these diagnoses, but I choose to believe there is one.

So, I am firmly back in the fight again.  A place I never wanted to be once, no less twice.  Questioning why my immune system seems to not be able to contain rogue cancer cells before they become something more.  I have changed my eating choices to the most inhospitable for cancer growth (whole food, plant based), am at a healthy weight (most of the time), work on my stress management (not always too successfully, if I am being totally honest), but here I am.  So I ask you, my Hopeful Survivor friends, to send well wishes and/or prayers my way during these next few months.  I think community is so important and I consider each of you mine.  And never forget, as you face your own road you never wanted to travel, that there is always hope!  It is not only my blog byline, but a constant theme in my life.  Wishing you all a healthy and peaceful new year and sending so much love your way!

 

Every day is a gift

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Not every day feels like a gift.  There are days where the to-do list runneth over, the kids are particularly wild, your significant other is getting on your last raw nerve, or you don’t have a significant other (although you have been praying for one FOREVER).  Or maybe your “doesn’t feel like a gift” focuses more on physical problems.  I have severe chemo induced peripheral neuropathy in my legs and feet, which causes daily, chronic pain even six plus years after treatment.  My pelvic bone (which was resected and now has very sharp edges) and surrounding tissues ache or hurt often.  My energy levels have never returned.  These issues seem to chant in my ears, “you call this is a gift?”

YES!  I am still alive!  Others are not that fortunate.  That was brought home so clearly last month when I learned a dear high school friend woke up one Sunday morning and thought it was a day like any other.  It was not.  He had a stroke and never got to kiss his sweet wife good night, as she went to bed that night in a bed that would never be the same.  Another high school friend, who has always lived a healthy and active life, suffered a heart attack last week while working out at the gym. Thankfully he survived, but not before having a stent placed in a totally clogged artery.  You see, every day that you wake up is a gift.

There is always something to be grateful for, even in the worst of days.  Sometimes you just have to look a little harder.  Do you have a friend you can call when you just need to talk?  Is the sun shining?  Is there a roof over your head?  Is your water safe to drink?  Is your heart still beating?  We all have so many things to be grateful for.  So, if today doesn’t feel like the gift you wish you were opening, look for three things you can be grateful for.  Just three.  It doesn’t matter how big or how small.  Come up with three.  And then really feel the gratitude.  Feel it in your heart and in your soul and say thank you.  Every day is truly a gift, even if it is wrapped a little differently than you might wish.  There are so many others who no longer have the chance to unwrap a new tomorrow.  As long as you are still breathing, there are reasons for gratitude and hope (and you all know how much I like hope).

 

Counseling Rocks!!!

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I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t raised in a family that encouraged counseling.  We were taught to be strong and self-sufficient.  Fear and failure were signs of weakness.  And most of all, we should take our struggles to God, not man. Now taking your struggles to God is a wonderful idea, but people sometimes also need trained counselors to deal with their issues (at least I do).  It took many years to arrive at this realization, but I am so glad arrive I did. The last three years have been a wonderful, painful, emotionally bare, learning time that I am so grateful for.  But all good things must come to an end.  My perfect counselor (perfect for me) retired at the end of April.  I didn’t see that coming.  I think I needed counseling to deal with the loss of my counselor, but alas, my counselor was retiring.  Now what do I do?

After many tears with both my counselor and husband, my husband uttered these wonderful words…

This chapter is ending, but the next chapter is only a page away.  You only have to turn the page.

So, turn the page I will.  Part of that page turning involves looking back on the many lessons I have learned during those years.  One of those lessons was the importance of listening to that still, small, God-given voice deep down inside.  My upbringing valued left brain, logical, fact-based decision making.  My career in finance and project management reinforced those values.  But when life deals you those unexpected, “never thought it would happen to me” cards, cards that can’t be reasoned or “logic’d” out, you have to open yourself to something more.  Without that possibility, life feels unmanageable.  So, I try to listen more.  I try to “feel” more.  I try to step out of that “only left brained” mentality and consider other possibilities. I try to live in the moment, instead of the past and future (this is still a major work in progress).  All of this is new to me, but I believe it is critically important for my well-being.

Another important lesson has to do with loving my inner child.  We all have past hurts that impact our decisions and reactions to this day. Hurts that may cause us to treat ourselves and others in a way that is less than ideal.  Hurts that have led us to some unhealthy coping mechanisms that have carried into our adult lives.  Our adult self needs to love that small child, thank them for all they did to get us to this point, and assure them that you can take it from here.  We are much better equipped to handle the situations we find ourselves in than that young, wounded child anyway.  Identifying this is the first step in healing that inner child in all of us.

I was recently reading the “Best Self Newsletter” and I came across this statement by Kristen Noel which says it better than I could…

Your Inner Child may have learned coping mechanisms that saved your life as a child, but those coping behaviors don’t have to rule your life as an adult.  Grace is found in moments of silence when you take the hand of your fearful inner child and you whisper, ‘Thank you. You’ve done an awesome job getting me here. I honor the bumps in the road that you have endured, but I’ve got this now. You needn’t be fearful anymore.’

Those are only two lessons I take away from the last three years of counseling.  There are far too many to count, but I can tell you that I am forever changed. So, if you need someone to talk to, go find a counselor that is your perfect fit.  Interview a bunch, if you need to (I kissed a few frogs before I found my Prince Charming).  Don’t settle for just anyone.  This relationship may be one of the most important relationships you will ever have.  You didn’t marry the first guy you ever dated, did you (maybe you did and you’re blissfully happy, but you get where I’m coming from)?  And I leave you with one more quote.  This time from my all-time favorite musical, “Wicked.”  It is for you, Mark, if you are reading this…

I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn.  And we are led to those who help us most to grow, if we let them.  And we help them in return.  Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true, but I know I’m who I am today because I knew you.  I do believe I have been changed for the better.  Because I knew you… because I knew you… I have been changed for good.

 

I Am Here

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You may be asking yourself, has Hopeful Survivor fallen off the face of the earth?  Is something wrong?  Did she decide to stop blogging and never tell anyone?  The answer to all these questions is “No.”  I am painfully aware that I have been MIA lately.  I haven’t blogged in a while for two main reasons. One is that I have had one health issue after another.  None are life threatening (thank God) and after a cancer diagnosis I feel like non-life-threatening ills shouldn’t count.  But they do.  They still make you feel lousy, sap your energy, and lead to discouragement.  It all began with a UTI in September, followed by the lead up to my regularly scheduled cancer scans (which always cause worry and anxiety).  Before I even learned my results (yay, they were clear!), I started with the symptoms of what I now call “The Plague.”  I am not trying to be melodramatic, but after two doctor visits (in which I was told it is not the flu, but will last and feel like it), and 7 weeks flat on my back, I didn’t know what else to call it.  A cold just didn’t seem to adequately describe it. Thanksgiving this year was spent in bed, as my wonderful husband made our Thanksgiving dinner, complete with turkey, for just the two of us.  That took me into December and yet another UTI.  And let’s not forget the ever-present peripheral neuropathy.  So, blogging wasn’t exactly in the forefront of my mind.

The second and bigger reason was that I didn’t feel like I had anything to say.  I truly feel that this blog is a calling for me.  If I am being honest, I would prefer not to do it, as I am normally a very private person.  But I know that I know that I know that I lived through my cancer battle for a reason. I never forget that my prayer during that time was if I had to go through all this, that it not be wasted. I also know that, when diagnosed, I searched for one person who had lived with my very rare form of cancer (Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma of the pelvis) and couldn’t find anyone.  I thought that if one other person had survived, then I could too.  So now I offer myself as that person for those of you who feel hopeless and despondent. That is my message, so I actually do have something to say.  If you are feeling that life isn’t fair, you are correct.  If you are feeling like you can’t take one more thing added to the long list of things you are currently dealing with, I am right there with you. But if you feel like you can’t go on, you are wrong.  You can go on and life can get better!  Maybe not in a linear fashion, getting a little better every day, but it can get better. Hope plays a huge part in that. There is always hope that tomorrow may be better than today, or at least next year may be better than this year. If we give up hope, there really is no reason to continue fighting the fight or take the next step on our journey (whatever that journey may be).  I am still here for a reason and I believe it is to help spread hope to the hopeless.  If you are feeling hopeless in one or many areas of your life right now, I am here. I understand and I care. Sometimes listening, encouraging, and refusing to give up on each other is why we are here.  I AM HERE!!

 

You may not always feel thankful during the holidays

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It was six years ago and I was in the middle of 18 weeks of really tough chemotherapy.  Earlier that year I had reconnected with my first love and the love of my life.  I thought my happy ending was finally falling into place. And then, two months after getting engaged, I was diagnosed with a very rare form of bone cancer (Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma).  The prognosis wasn’t very promising.  So after hurriedly scheduled surgery (a pelvic resection), the chemotherapy began. My hair began falling out the day after Thanksgiving, so I wasn’t feeling particularly thankful about that. By Christmas I was barely able to keep food down and got out of bed mainly for the numerous doctor’s appointments on my otherwise bare calendar.  As my friends were shopping for gifts, decorating their homes, and attending numerous holiday parties, I was lying in bed, trying to make it through another day.

Yet, during that time, there were many special Christmas memories forming.  I was unable to handle many smells, so my fiancé borrowed an artificial tree and decorated it as a surprise for me.  After he finished, he helped me downstairs to see his handiwork.  I was so grateful.  On Christmas Eve, he joined me on my hospital bed and we tracked Santa on the NORAD website until long after midnight, and then he kissed me a Merry Christmas.  He wanted to make sure I made as many Christmas memories as my health would allow.

I was not feeling at all thankful for the cancer or chemotherapy fallout, but I could give thanks for the special memories my wonderful fiancé created for me.  It was then I realized the huge difference between feeling thankful and giving thanks.  Joni Eareckson Tada describes these thoughts perfectly.

As a matter of fact, God isn’t asking you to be thankful. He’s asking you to give thanks. There’s a big difference. One response involves emotions, the other your choices, your decisions about a situation, your intent, your step of faith.

So, as you move through this holiday season, even if it is not everything you hoped it would be, remember to Give Thanks.  Notice that smile on a stranger’s face, the door held for you as you enter a building, the kind word from a friend, the helping hand extended by your family member.  The more examples you notice this holiday season the more likely you are to look back on this Christmas six years from now and realize that giving thanks, for the small and not so small things, creates some of your fondest Christmas memories.

 

No news is good news

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At least that’s what my surgeon says.  You see, he will not call me if my scans are clear, only if there is a problem (I would bet he has never waited anxiously for test results or he would be more compassionate).  My husband describes that waiting period as “a slowly fading sense of dread.”  So, the endpoint is a phone call from my surgeon (bad news) or when the results are finally posted to our hospital’s online portal (good news).  That posting occurred yesterday.  There is no indication of recurrence on the x-rays or MRI (the actual words were “No evidence of residual or recurrent disease”).  Sweeter words were never spoken (or read)!!!

Now I move to annual scans, a milestone I have been looking forward to for six years.  I can’t even imagine being able to live for an entire year without periodic scans hanging over my head, but I am really looking forward to finding out how that feels. Maybe I will plan a vacation for 11 months in the future.  Wow, what a concept.  Thank you so much for your kind words and prayers, as I approached these latest tests. They were felt and carried me through this waiting period.  My blog tribe is the best in the world and I never take your support for granted. Celebratory hugs all around!

 

It’s that time again

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You would think it would get easier, but it doesn’t seem to work out that way.  My next scans are scheduled later this week.  Anxiety abounds.  I tell myself that the greatest risk of recurrence was in the first 2-3 years.  I tell myself that these are my 6 year scans and I have been clear to date.  And then I remember ALL the stories people have shared with me about friends and relatives who made it to 5 years, got the all clear, and then it came back everywhere and they died.  Yes, you can’t imagine how many of those stories I have been told.  I never understand why people think that is helpful.

I also remember what happened last year, at my 5 year scans.  I don’t know how many of you read all about that in last year’s blog posts (feel free to look back at them, if you want more of the details), but the short version is my surgeon read my scans and said they looked clear, only to call me 3 days later and say the Radiologist saw something and he is “very concerned.”  When your cancer surgeon tells you he is “very concerned,” you become VERY CONCERNED!  So, although it ended up being a false alarm, the PTSD is real.  My body experienced emotions and trauma that were worse than during the initial diagnosis. You see, when I received my original cancer diagnosis I knew it would be bad, but I had NO idea how bad.  Now I know and that makes the prospect of a recurrence all the more excruciating.

So, I approach these scans with anxiety, logic, dread, hope, and lots of prayer.  I tend to beat myself up over the anxiety and dread parts.  After all, I have made it this far, although statistics lead us to believe I wouldn’t.  I also feel like somewhat of a fraud because I started a blog called Hopeful Survivor.  I am hopeful, just not every second of every day.  So, I write this in the spirit of authenticity and with the hope that it encourages others who are afraid of what the future might hold.  Hope is a powerful emotion and one that is crucial for creating a life worth living.  As I approach this week’s scans and the results of those scans, I acknowledge my emotions.  I honor what I am feeling.  And I move forward with hope.  Prayers and positive energy gratefully accepted.

 

Do you want to live?

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No one actually asked me that and yet it is critically important to know the answer.  I think most of us would instinctually respond with a yes, but do you really want to live?  Life is hard.  Marriages are tough or fail.  Jobs are stressful or are lost.  Kids can be heart breaking.  Depression is real.  Treatment is sometimes more than a person can bear.  Given all that, do you really want to live?

Why?  It is just as important to answer that question.  Do you have a reason or reasons to live?  Not just because it is expected of you, but do you have a purpose or goal?  Are you clear on it?  Do you visualize yourself at your child’s graduation?  Can you see your daughter walking down the aisle?  Can you feel your grandson in your arms?  Do you see your life on the other side of your diagnosis? If not, I repeat, do you want to live?  It is critically important that you be crystal clear on your “Why.”

When I was diagnosed I had just finalized a contentious 3+ year divorce.  During that time, I was not working (I had stopped while still married), it was during the 2007/2008 high unemployment period and I wasn’t finding any opportunities no matter how hard I tried, money concerns were ever present, I moved 3 times in 6 months, my father got pneumonia and died, and my responsibilities for my ailing mother greatly increased.  Prior to my divorce I was in a 14 year abusive marriage.  Add all that up and you can see why my immune system was unable to stay on top of any rogue cancer cell formations.  So, did I really want to live?

My answer was a resounding YES!  As I have previously shared, my first love and I had just recently reconnected.  We were so thankful to have found each other again after 35 years apart. We were making plans and dreaming dreams.  Life and love were finally real parts of our lives.  More than ever before, I wanted to live.  Do I think that had much of an impact on my survival?  Absolutely!  That and God.  It was not a coincidence that we had found each other again after all that time.  That didn’t mean it was easy, it was not.  Many people thought I wouldn’t survive the cancer, no less the treatment, but I did.  And I’m still here.

I encourage each and every one of you to get crystal clear on your “Why.”  Whether you are facing a health crisis or any other type of crisis, knowing your “Why” could save your life.  So, when life gets hard, and it will get hard, ask yourself if you want to live and then get clear on your “Whys.”  Those answers could make all the difference.