Tag: grateful

Health is a balancing act

/ Leave a comment

I used to think of health as how my body felt physically.  If I didn’t have the sniffles, a headache, joint pain, or (God forbid) a chronic disease, I was healthy.  These last few years have taught me that health is so much more than that.  True health is comprised of many different factors.  The other day I was listening to a TED talk by Dr. Lissa Rankin, where she was discussing something called “The Whole Health Cairn Model.”  She explained that to be truly healthy numerous areas of your life must be in balance and that your physical health was like the top rock in a rock cairn.  If those other areas are not shored up, your health could not rest securely in its place.

So, what are those areas?  It begins with your inner pilot light.  That still, small voice in the deepest part of your being.  Some call it your gut or intuition.  If you aren’t taking the time to be still and listen to what your intuition knows better than your thinking brain ever could, you are missing the foundation of true health.  In a world of constant noise, rushing, and data overload it is tough to find that time to be still, but if you don’t make that time you will miss out on all that your life can be.  Then there are the many other areas that make up your life: relationships, work/life purpose, spirituality, creativity, sexuality, environment, money, and mental health.  All of those areas contribute to the state of your physical health.  If any of them are out of balance (and who doesn’t have one or more of them out of balance at any given time?), your physical health is at risk. That really got me thinking about my ongoing quest for what I think of as good health.  I spend so much effort on what I eat, the supplements I take, the positive affirmations I state, the alternative treatments I pursue, but do I put that same level of effort into my creativity or life purpose?

She went on to discuss the importance of including some type of love, activities that bring you pleasure, acts of service to others, and gratitude for all you have already been given into your life to support your whole health cairn. This all seems like a lot to juggle, but I took away from her talk that whole health is so much more than what I thought of as health.  That life is made up of so many different areas and they all contribute to or take away from our whole health.  And then she said something that made me stop and back up her talk to hear it again.

When life falls apart you either grow or you grow a tumor.

What!?!? I don’t know about you, but that caught me up short.  All of the periods in my life where areas in my health cairn were falling apart, I had a choice.  I could resist, hunker down, and try desperately to hang onto to how things were, or I could surrender to something greater than myself and grow.  Given the fact that I grew a tumor, I think you know which one I usually chose.  So now that I know better I will try to do better.  In those “falling apart” times I will now try to choose surrender and growth. How is your whole health cairn doing? Is it strong and balanced or is it leaning or in a pile?  Pay some attention to what areas are weakest and shore them up.  Grow from the hardest things you are facing today.  Learn from my mistakes.  Whole health is precious and definitely worth the work!

 

Miraculous find

/ 5 Comments

I often get the question, “How did they find your cancer?”  That simple question does not have a simple answer. You see, there were no symptoms. I thought I had a bladder infection and called my primary care physician for an antibiotic.  She was on vacation and the doctor filling in for her thought it would be a good idea for me to see a Urologist.  I didn’t understand why because I was not prone to bladder infections, but the idea of just going to Urgent Care for the prescription never crossed my mind (and that is something that would have always crossed my mind).  Begrudgingly I scheduled an appointment with the recommended Urologist because I needed an antibiotic.  He put me through the torture chamber of testing that only Urologists do, said he thought I was right and probably had a bladder infection (I know, right?), but wanted me to go for a CT of my kidneys to rule out kidney stones.  Now if you know me at all you know I drink more water than anyone you have ever met, so the odds I had kidney stones were slim to none.  I wasn’t experiencing any pain, but this is what he wanted done before he would give me an antibiotic.  Again, why didn’t I just go to Urgent Care?

The next day I went in for my pelvic CT.  I was so glad they had a cancelation because I really needed that antibiotic.  As I was driving home from the scan, my cell phone rang.  It was my Urologist’s office asking me to stop by on my way home.  Yay, I was finally going to get my prescription!  When I arrived, the receptionist looked anxious and immediately took me back to the doctor’s office.  She assured me he would be right in, she just needed to pull him out of the examination room.  I thought it was odd that he was that willing to personally hand me my much-needed prescription, but as long as I was getting it I didn’t care.  When he entered the room, he looked concerned.  He told me he had good news and he had bad news.  The good news was I didn’t have kidney stones and he handed me my antibiotic prescription.  The bad news was I had a hole in my pelvic bone and needed to see my Oncologist right away!  My first thought was “what Oncologist?”  He proceeded to tell me it appeared my cancer had returned and metastasized to my pelvic bone.  My head was spinning.  I had never had cancer.  I didn’t have an Oncologist.  What is he talking about?  When I explained all this to him he immediately called my primary care physician (who was back from vacation), spoke to her, and then called over to the local hospital’s Oncology practice to schedule me ASAP.

A few days later I found myself in an Oncologist’s office.  When she entered she introduced herself and then said “I have reviewed your scan and think you have stage 4 multiple myeloma and probably won’t see Christmas.” What is it with these doctors?!?  Did I mention I was alone in her office when she delivered this news?  All I could think to say is “Do I look like someone who has stage 4 multiple myeloma?” She said no, but she couldn’t imagine what else it could be.  She scheduled me for a multitude of tests.

Each test came back normal.  When I would heave a sigh of relief and say “that’s great!” she would respond “no, no it’s not.”  She wanted to know what caused the hole and I was just glad all the tests came back normal. This cat and mouse game continued for 2 months.  There were bone scans, CTs, blood tests, all coming back normal.  Next was the CT guided needle biopsy into my pelvic bone. Not fun this time either.  The biopsy came back as healthy tissue.  I thought this nightmare was behind me. Then she told me I had to have an open incision biopsy at a hospital 1 ½ – 2 hours away.  I was done.  I had completed every test and scan she recommended.  It was about this time that I told her that when you’re a carpenter and the only tool you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.  But God had other plans.  He wasn’t going to let me come this far and not cross the finish line. She then offered to take my case to “The Tumor Board.”  I didn’t even know there was such a thing, but I thought they would think she had done enough and maybe I was just born with a misshaped pelvic bone.  After all, I had never had a CT of my pelvic bone before. I agreed.  They unanimously agreed with her.  The appointment with the Orthopedic Oncological Surgeon (who just “happened” to be ranked #1 in the country at the time) was scheduled.

When I met with him he also thought it was not cancer.  He ordered an MRI with contrast just to make sure. That was about the only test they hadn’t done yet.  When the results came back they were inconclusive, so he called the Oncologist to recommend watching it.  She would not agree.  She really felt it was cancer.  He talked with me and said he did not think it was cancer, but had to pursue it further, if she would not sign off on his recommendation.  To say I was not happy with that Oncologist was an understatement. It wasn’t that I was in denial, it was that I thought I had had enough tests to determine there was no cancer. We decided to go through with the open incision biopsy to put this to rest once and for all.  And as I wrote about in an earlier blog, it did end up being a really aggressive, really rare form of bone cancer (Undifferentiated Pleomorphic Sarcoma).

When I reflect over all the details of this miraculous find I can’t help but be amazed at how God orchestrated all this.  First of all, He allowed it to be found before there were symptoms (and it would be too late).  For some reason it never occurred to me that I should just go to Urgent Care and get an antibiotic prescription (which would normally be my first thought in this situation).  I also didn’t mention that the bladder infection that drove me to the doctor in the first place ended up testing negative for infection after all and the symptoms stopped as soon as the CT found the hole in my pelvic bone.  Then there was the Oncologist who I not so affectionately dubbed “Dr. Pitbull.”  She continued to dig, even when all the signs were that this was nothing.  She even stood up to a much more experienced physician, whose specialty was bone cancer, when he recommended taking a step back and just watching it.  Another thing that happened, after the biopsy determined it was cancer, was that I knew I couldn’t go through all this alone in Pennsylvania, where I was living.  It “just so happens” the #2 Orthopedic Oncological Surgeon was in New York, where my fiancé lived, and the first surgeon was friends with him and got me in within a week of the biopsy results.  And God had brought my fiancé and I back together just months before all this started.  There is no doubt that I wouldn’t have lived through the treatment without the dedicated and loving 24/7 care he provided.  Was any of this a coincidence?  I don’t think so.  Did any of this surprise God?  No, but it sure did surprise me.  When the times came that didn’t seem anything but hopeless over the next year+, I reflected on all the details associated with my miraculous find and knew God was with me.  I still think back on all that transpired when I find myself becoming fearful of the future and choose to believe God allowed me to survive for some greater purpose. I am still here and so are you. We all have a purpose and until my purpose is completed I will continue to share my story of hope with those I cross paths.  It’s not that I feel hopeful each and every day, but I do know God is with me.  He has shown that time and time again throughout this journey.  There is great hope in that!

 

Thoughts can change biology

/ Leave a comment

Have you ever noticed that thinking a certain thought can change your day? You wake up and, for a brief moment, may forget that diagnosis.  Or maybe you forget that your marriage is over or your job has been eliminated. And then it all comes rushing back and you start to feel nauseous and shaky.  Your head starts throbbing and your palms start sweating.  Your thoughts have directly impacted your biology. Study after study is now proving the idea that you can think yourself sick, as well as well.  You can change your gene expression by assuming a positive or negative attitude about your circumstances.  If that is true, why don’t doctors encourage each and every patient to practice positive visualization?  It costs nothing, has no associated risks, and could greatly improve a prognosis.

I once heard a speaker say, “The day I got my diagnosis I died to who I was. But I haven’t yet been reborn to who I am going to become.”  She had a sense of continuity even in the way that she spoke.  She was telling a story that told me this woman expects to live. What we believe and tell our minds can greatly impact our cellular biology.  Expect a positive outcome.  Think about a positive outcome (in great detail).  Dream of your life with this positive outcome.  I’m not talking about becoming a Pollyanna, I’m talking about really seeing your life healthy and whole (or at least as I say, “remarkably better”).  Feel the feelings associated with that reality.  Your brain can’t tell the difference between what has already happened and what you have imagined and felt if you picture it with enough detail and emotion.  It’s not easy, especially when you are so sick or scared, but it is a skill to be practiced.  It gets easier the more consistently you practice it.  What have you got to lose?  Time is going to pass either way.  You can sit back and wait for healing or improvement or you can imagine it. You can picture it in all its luscious, joyful, hopeful detail.  See yourself able to do and experience all the things you have only dreamed of.  At the very least you will notice improvements in your emotions and hope.  At most you will notice miraculous improvements to your life.  Let’s give it a try together!

 

And the results are in…

/ 2 Comments

This latest round of scans was clear!  The exact terminology is “no evidence of recurrence.”  I couldn’t be more pleased or more thankful.  And I also found out what “the foreseeable future” means.  After 2 rounds of 3 month scans, the doctor said “see you in 6 months.”  I guess that means “the foreseeable future” is 6 months long.  Who knew!  I am so relieved to move back to 6 month intervals and look forward to clean scans in October and moving to once a year!!  I can hardly believe it.  Last October, the time of my scare, he had moved me to annual scans.  I was thrilled and so relieved.  Then the phone call came and it signaled a biopsy and 3 month scans once again.  I can’t even imagine what annual scans would feel like, but I am looking forward to finding out.

So, life picks up right where it left off.  I always find it interesting that scan day can lead to 1 of 2 very different experiences. Either it is a few hours (and a few days waiting for results) out of an otherwise normal week or life as you know it completely changes.  I describe that as throwing my life into a blender.  I think life, in general, is a lot like that.  You get in your car, to drive to work, and a car accident alters your life forever.  The phone rings in the middle of the night, telling you news you hoped to never hear, and life is never the same.  Your spouse comes home one day and tells you he wants a divorce.  Enter the “blender phenomenon.”  I have learned many lessons from that blender.  One is that I am much stronger than I ever thought I was.  Strength is forged in adversity, but if you recognize and embrace that strength today the lessons of adversity may not need to pay you a visit as often.  Another lesson is to never take today for granted, because tomorrow is not guaranteed. I have spent far too many todays wishing, praying, or working toward a different tomorrow.  I am finally beginning to embrace today as the gift it is and leave tomorrow to tomorrow.  The key word there is “beginning.”  I am such a work in progress.  So today I encourage each of you to embrace those lessons in your lives.  Do yourself a big favor and embrace them without having to experience the dreaded “blender phenomenon.”  Your soul will thank you!

 

For the foreseeable future

/ 3 Comments

How long, exactly, is that?  According to my Orthopedic Oncological Surgeon, it is how long I have to go back to being scanned every 3 months.  As you may remember, last October were my 5-year scans. That was the appointment I was to move from 6 month to annual scans.  I was so looking forward to living in larger increments between “those” doctor’s appointments.  And then they thought they saw something and that led to a bone biopsy.  The great news is it did not show a return of the cancer! The not totally great news is it wasn’t definitive.  So now I return to 3-month scans “for the foreseeable future.”

I don’t know about you, but I don’t do well with open ended vagueness.  I want to know who, what, where, when, why, and how.  In the uncertain world of cancer, it almost never works out that way.   That’s where trust comes in.  Trust in your doctors, trust in your body (sometimes hard when you may feel it has let you down in the past), trust in what your gut is telling you, and trust in God and His plan for your life.  So, as I head into my next 3-month scans this coming week (prayers gratefully appreciated), I will choose to trust this journey will continue to work out for my best.  And that my foreseeable future will be nothing but bright.  I know it will be easier said than done, but I will choose it and then choose it again.  After all, the power to choose how we will view anything that happens in our lives is ours and ours alone.  So, let’s all choose to remain positive and enjoy each day that we are graciously given.  That’s a hopeful choice I can get behind.

 

Be Still and Know

/ 3 Comments

That’s a tough one for me.  You might wonder which part and my answer is “both.”  Let’s start with “Be Still.”  In this world, how is it possible to be still?  With the constant bombardment of 24/7 news, the ability to be connected anytime and anywhere, cell phones, emails, texts, Facebook, 100s of tv channels to choose from, the internet, and seemingly endless to-do lists, how can we possibly be still?  And then add in being raised in a household where accomplishments and “doing” were valued much more than simply “being,” coupled with my type A, driven personality type and it is a recipe for anything but stillness.  What if someone saw me being still and thought I was lazy?  What value would I bring to this world if I wasn’t accomplishing something?  Who am I if I am not defined by what I do?

Then there is the “and Know.”  Where do I begin with that one?  How do we ever really know?  We can evaluate as many pieces of data as we can gather and try to assemble some level of knowing, but can we ever truly know?  Growing up I remember being told to not be ruled by my emotions.  Decisions were to be made using my logical brain and were to be based on facts.  Gut instincts were devalued or ignored completely.  I learned at an early age that what you thought out was much more accurate than what you felt.  So back to my original question, how do you know?

The last 5 years have been a master’s level course in the importance of being still and knowing.  When you are faced with life and death situations, chronic pain, fear, and uncertainties you are forced to face the importance of finding some time and space to just be still.  Turn off the electronics, phone, tv, anything that keeps you frantically busy and just be still. I find it much easier when I remove myself from my day to day environment.  It seems that there are always too many things to keep my mind racing when I’m at home.  Sometimes that’s taking a drive, going for a walk (not that easy anymore with the neuropathy), or taking a much-needed vacation.  Whatever allows my mind to disengage.  I think that’s what’s really important.  When you can get out of your head, you can begin to be.  Intuition, a concept I never believed in until recently, can begin to surface.  That’s where true knowing comes in.  I am only beginning to experience intuition and it is thrilling each and every time I actually feel/sense it. People see intuition as coming from many different sources; God, the universe, our gut.  I don’t think it really matters what you call its source, I think it’s more important that you learn to feel/sense it.  When you feel your intuition deep inside there is a level of knowing that facts and figures can never provide.  So, my recommendation is to find a place where you can truly be still and go inside yourself.  Ask what you are to know today, and just listen.  Sometimes the answer is a feeling, an image, or a sense, but often there will be some sort of answer, if we are still.  I am just beginning this knowing journey, but it is so much more real and certain than any of my left brain, fact-based journey to this point. Give it a try.  Take a walk on a beach, sit by a mountain stream, visit a park and practice just being.  You may be pleasantly surprised by what you find.

 

Broken into Beautiful

/ 2 Comments

Being broken is really hard.  There are many different types of brokenness.  Over the last few months I have been dealing with a broken wrist.  It’s amazing how many things you need two hands for.  It seems even the simplest tasks are difficult when a wrist is broken.  I progressed from a cast to a brace to kinesiology tape to skin (really flakey, scaly skin).  I went from not using my left hand at all to doing easy stretching exercises to modified push-ups.  But that type of broken heals and life goes on pretty much as before (thank goodness).

Then there is the brokenness that accompanies something like a cancer battle.  When I began that journey I truly believed that if I survived the surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation it was only a matter of time before I would be back to my old self.  As I was coming back to life from all the poisons injected into my veins and radiated into my bone I held onto the hope that, after a period of healing, I would be good as new.  As the days turned into weeks, months, and years I realized the old me died with the cancer.  I felt “less than” and terribly broken, a brokenness that would not go away.  I wanted what I had BC (before cancer), but that was no longer an option.  If I can’t be who I was before, who am I now?  What is my new normal?

I have been slowly trying to learn who the new me is AC (after cancer).  The first thing I realized I needed to do was mourn the loss of BC me.  That is an ongoing endeavor.  But as I have been walking this road, I have discovered parts of the new me that never would have existed without the firewalk that was my life.  I have a depth that never would have developed had I not stared death in the face and won.  My friends say I am much more authentic and empathetic, traits that weren’t really valued in my prior life in corporate America.  My sister shared that she had always really loved me, but that she liked me more now (I think that may point back to the authenticity noted by my friends).  I have heard that it is where you are broken that the light can shine through you.  I picture myself as a vessel, with all these cracks.  As the sun shines on me some reflects off my broken edges, shining onto others, while some rays shine through my cracks, illuminating the darkness within.

Brokenness, in any form, is not easy.  It is not meant to be.  But if we take a step back, a deep breath, and ask what we are to learn from this experience, we might be pleasantly surprised with the answer.  We are never the same after having been broken, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be better.  Our definition of whole may need to change, but the new version can be stronger and more real than we ever could have been before.  Just as a broken bone regrows stronger at the point of the break, we can grow stronger from all the brokenness we experience.  Let’s embrace our new normal and be grateful for all we can learn during our hard times.  Let’s turn our brokenness into something beautiful.  And no matter what we are facing, let’s resolve to never give up hope!

 

Sometimes a test is just a test

/ Leave a comment

When I was in school I never minded tests.  I actually looked forward to them.  I was one of those people who thrived under pressure and rose to the occasion.  Not that I didn’t do my part.  I attended all the classes, read the course material, completed the homework assignments, performed the lab work, and studied for the exams.  I did my part and I welcomed the opportunity to demonstrate that fact to my teachers (and myself).  I didn’t sit around worrying that the test would reveal that I was a failure, that I hadn’t done enough, that I was dumb or somehow unable to complete the coursework set before me.  I saw it as a chance to learn the lesson, demonstrate my comprehension, and move on to new material.  When did a test become more than a test?

As many of you may be aware, back in October I had my 5 year bone cancer scans and the MRI showed there may be something abnormal.  That sent me into a tailspin and led to many sleepless nights and a pelvis biopsy.  When the biopsy results came back clear the doctor seemed relieved (nothing compared to how I felt), but wanted to see me back in 3 months (end of January) to do another complete set of scans to be sure. I have been pretty stressed about this upcoming set of tests and then it occurred to me, it’s just a test.  I have done my part to prepare for these tests.  I have changed my diet, worked with a counselor on less than healthy emotional and stress patterns, read all sorts of books on health and healing, attended classes on heathy living and energy healing topics, taken advantage of alternative healing modalities (reiki, holistic nutritionist, massage, meditation), and prayed (a lot).  I am prepared.  Why is it, at this point in my life, I am worried about being tested?  This is just another opportunity to learn the lessons, demonstrate my mastery of the subject material, and move on.  What a difference that perspective makes.  I am going to choose to assign that meaning to the next set of scans.  Just an opportunity to demonstrate my comprehension of the lesson of the last 5 years.  I’m sure this is not going to be a once and done exercise, but why not look at it like an opportunity to prove I am still healthy and whole and not proof that I am somehow less than successful?  Sometimes a test is just a test.  Time to pass with flying colors and move on!!

 

My new candy cane cast

/ Leave a comment

Man oh man am I getting tired of all the detours.  First it was “Your 5 year scans are clean” and then it was “The Radiologist thinks he saw something on your MRI and we need to do a bone biopsy.”  Next it was “Your biopsy is clear” and then it was “But we want to repeat all your scans in 3 months to be sure.” Then I was planning a 4-day spa get away with my sister to celebrate life and the upcoming Christmas holiday and now I have a bruised tailbone, broken wrist, and my arm in a cast for at least 6 weeks.  You see, we were enjoying the spa’s “Relaxation Room,” feet in a warm foot pool, and then I was called for my facial appointment.  The floor in this room is marble, it was already wet from other’s feet, I added my wet feet to the mix and had to walk across the room to the towel shelf to grab a towel to dry my feet.  The next thing I knew my feet were off the floor and I landed on my wrist and tailbone.  Ouch!!  After the staff picked me up off the floor and took me to the local Urgent Care, my tailbone and wrist were x-ray’d, and it was determined I had a bruised tailbone and broken wrist.  My 4-day spa vacation turned into less than 1 day, as I had to check out and head to the local hospital to meet with an Orthopedic Surgeon.  I tell you all this for two main reasons.  First, as it is difficult to type, I may not be posting as regularly as I have been for the next few weeks.  Second, although I am really tired of doctors, x-rays, pain, and unforeseen health issues, it could have been much worse!  I could have hit my head on the marble floor and had a much more dire outcome.  It also appears I may not require surgery and for that I am grateful.  I would really appreciate any prayers or positive thoughts you send my way for reduced pain and speedy healing.  I am hopeful, in the midst of this, that this experience will open additional opportunities to practice what I preach.  In all circumstances there is something to learn, something to be grateful for, and above all else, there is always hope for what tomorrow may bring (and I have a candy cane cast in the mean time).  Here’s to a brighter tomorrow for all of us!

 

“I’ve got this”

/ 5 Comments

Do you ever wish someone could reassure you that everything is going to work out? That they could tell you, no matter how bleak things look right now, it will be okay in the end?  That’s exactly what I was longing for after my first visit to an Oncologist.  They had found a hole in my pelvic bone (more on this miraculous find in a future post) and had referred me to an Oncologist.  She believed I had stage 4 multiple myeloma and sent me for blood tests to confirm her hypothesis.  I was panicked.  When the bloodwork came back, all my numbers were right in the middle of the normal range.  I wondered, what does that mean?  I don’t have multiple myeloma?  Everything is fine?  It’s all a big mistake?  I’m not going to die?  It was then that I heard God say, almost audibly, “I’ve got this.”  What?  I am not someone who regularly hears God speak to me.  I wish I were, but I am not.  There are only a handful of times I truly believe I have heard Him say something to me and this was one of them.  I was initially comforted by this and took it to mean I didn’t have cancer after all.  I would later learn that was not a correct interpretation.  I did have cancer.  A really rare, really aggressive bone cancer.  So, did I misunderstand or did He never tell me that in the first place?  There were many times over the next 12 months that I asked myself that very thing.  There have been many times recently, like during my biopsy last month, that I questioned it again.  But I know that I heard Him say that to me 5+ years ago.

How can I reconcile what I truly believe God told me and the continual trials I encounter along this cancer journey?  I have come to believe that He did tell me He “had this,” but it did not mean I was cancer-free.  I wanted it to mean that, I initially thought it meant that, I still want it to mean that.  What it did mean is that He was going to work this out how He saw fit, that it would ultimately be for my good, that He had not dropped the ball here.  It also meant that He was not going to leave me to walk this path alone.  That He would be beside me, and sometimes carry me, through every unbelievably tough day.  There were many days that I didn’t feel him there, that I didn’t like the way He was choosing to “have it,” but He “had it” none the less.  It also didn’t mean He “had it” any less if I hadn’t survived the last 5 years.  I am so grateful He has seen fit to leave me here so far, but that doesn’t mean I’m not fearful every time something new comes up.  I am human.  It does mean that I remind myself of those words I truly believe He gave me all those years ago and try to trust them.  There have been many times, during dark days, I have pleaded for more words of reassurance that have not come.  But God is there when He speaks and when He chooses to remain silent.  He is always there (we never have to do this on our own) and He always loves us unconditionally and completely.  That is a reason for hope!