Dispelling Cancer Myths

Cancer, cancer, cancer, cancer!

Sheesh, you probably say, does this woman think about anything else besides CANCER?

Truth is, I think about A LOT of other things besides cancer. In fact, I’ve hardly thought about cancer at all in the past month because I have been so busy trying to make important changes in my life. But time and time again I come up with more things I want to write about the subject, and let’s be honest, don’t you want to read about life with cancer from someone who actually IS living life with cancer? Instead of a so-called “expert” who writes for one of those cheesy medical sites? Thought so.

This time around I will expand on something I’ve toyed with in other posts: myths about cancer. I have five biggies to cover, fictitious beliefs that I have encountered time and again in the past three years of my “journey.” Here goes!

People get lung cancer from smoking. Therefore, they deserve it. This is totally false, and I know this firsthand. While I smoked long ago, I quit when I was seventeen years old, a full thirty-five years before my diagnosis. Non-smoker lung cancer cases are on the rise from environmental factors such as longtime exposure to radon, which is now the second biggest reason (behind smoking) that people get lung cancer. Neither of these was why I got it. My lung cancer was a genetic alteration. So, asking me smoking related questions is really shitty and ignorant, and if I spit at you remember you asked for it. Don’t do it to anyone, because you really don’t know the reason. And even if the person in question got it from smoking, it’s pretty crappy to assume anyone deserves to have a disease because of a bad habit that is very hard to kick.

All women who get cancer want to be referred to as “warriors.” Nope. Wrong again. I feel like this myth is embedded deep in our culture, since my recent post about this very subject was hardly read or commented on, was even largely ignored by a faithful group of friends who regularly read and applaud my stuff. Yeah, it’s tough for someone to speak the truth and go against the grain of what the general population wants to believe. It’s just so interesting to envision a woman with cancer fighting with all she has and, sometimes, going down in a blaze of glory. Well let me further burst your bubble: there isn’t any glory in dying of cancer. I watched my sister perish from the same curse I’m stuck with now. And I’ll say it again, from my own personal experience: I’m not interested in being your warrior. All I’m interested in is being ME. And I know for sure that I’m not the only cancer survivor who feels this way.

“Big Pharma” is Withholding a Cure for Cancer. This makes me want to scream. Again and again, I notice something really interesting about this myth: the individuals who believe it don’t have cancer. They are experts at something they have never experienced firsthand. I have not heard anyone with cancer make this claim. Because we know that it’s nonsense. “Big Pharma” would make ten times more money curing cancer than they would withholding a cure for cancer. Think about it. I never believed this claim even before I was diagnosed, even from the outside not wanting to see inside. Now, from the inside looking out, I’m in even more disbelief that anyone could be so stupid as to believe it.

Only Unhealthy People Get Cancer. I was one of the healthiest people out there, always took care of myself, was in great shape, ate as well as I could, didn’t and don’t have any bad habits. It would seem that my vigilance didn’t work, but when looked at another way, one could easily say that the reason I’m still alive and kicking is because I was healthy to start with. In fact, when I asked my former oncologist why I “made it” when so many others don’t, he pointed to my lifestyle before cancer as one of the two biggest factors. (The other one is that I have continued to live my life similarly post-diagnosis.) When people claim that they are healthy and won’t get ill because they eat their vegetables and drink their green tea, I just smile, knowing the irony. Living a healthy existence can prepare you for if and when the worst happens to you, but it doesn’t always mean that the worst isn’t going to happen.

Stage IV Cancer is a Death Sentence. Walking around with the knowledge that you have cancer at the deadliest stage is hardly a picnic, but it isn’t necessarily a death sentence anymore. Targeted therapy, immunotherapy, and several other cutting edge treatments are working wonders for patients like yours truly and allowing us to not only live longer and live better, but to turn the tables on cancer, as well as the general perceptions surrounding it. For many of us, the days of suffering more from treatment than from the actual disease are in the past, and every day brings us closer and closer to a cure. I regularly have people tell me that if they didn’t know I have cancer they would never guess, because I look so healthy. I hope to keep it that way for the foreseeable future.

To further illustrate the mythological aspect of the final item, I’m heading to Ireland next week, and I hereby promise to write a nice post (with lots of pictures!) that has nothing to do with cancer when I get back! Until then, I hope you will ponder what is true and what isn’t when you think about this awful disease.

Can I Start Fresh?

By now it’s common knowledge that I have a deadly disease. Almost daily I hear of another person who succumbs to Stage IV Lung Cancer. Almost daily I wonder when it will be my turn. And yet, thanks to modern medicine and my own sheer will to live and even thrive, I’ve survived for three years and am currently feeling pretty good and living my life much the way I always have. Still, questions loom whenever I think too hard about the future, and the biggest one is, do I even have a future to think about?

Many people reading this have no real idea what this feels like, and good for you, I used to be like you. Others will believe that they know what it’s like when they really don’t. Still others will just tell me to “get over it” and live my life, which I am, perhaps better than they are, but which they have no right to say. There will, however, be a handful of folks who will think, “I know exactly what she’s talking about.” They know that the “not knowing” makes planning for the future a weird thing. Suddenly, everything you do has a “twist,” perhaps even an expiration date.

I’m currently in the throes of making some major changes, particularly to my home and work life. In fact, I’m planning to change so much that I’ve been referring to it as a “fresh start,” which then triggers the inevitable inquiry: can I start fresh with a terminal illness? If the answer is “no” I guess that answer doesn’t really matter, because I’m moving ahead anyway! And if the answer is “yes” there is always that nagging feeling that I’ll end up really happy in my new life, then the rug will be pulled out from beneath me (again) by cancer and it will be all for nothing. Or I’ll die happy? Worse could happen; I could die miserable. But the point is that I don’t want to make all sorts of improvements only to end up on my last leg. Nor do I want to die with regrets. I have few if any as of now. Which only leads to another bit of confusion, because if I don’t move forward on my dreams and goals and I end up living for many more years (which isn’t impossible) it will be time wasted. Sounds like a recipe for regret to me. Who needs that?

Do you see my dilemma?

Admittedly, I’m not as ambitious as I once was. Is that all because of cancer? I can’t really answer that for certain. Perhaps it is, but I think that the changes in the world that COVID19 brought about have to be considered, and well, I’m not as young and idealistic that I used to be. Last post I revealed my personal Bucket List. Much of it is riddled with travel goals, but even those have changed, have become more focused. At one time I planned to get a PhD, travel the globe for two or three years nonstop, own a Victorian home, be a millionaire, write a bestselling novel. And a lot of other stuff that has long since disappeared from thought. Maybe I never really wanted those things, or maybe they were unrealistic. Now, I have six things on my goals list and just about all of them are right in front of me. In fact, one of them was basically offered to me today unexpectedly, once again proving that you just never know what is going to come your way, good, bad, or ugly. So I guess I will have to raise the bar a little. Or maybe, like John Lennon once said, I’m just watching the wheels go ’round and ’round. I’m damn tired, and maybe it’s just time to have a break. Is that giving up? No, I don’t think so. I think it’s just a fresh start as a me that is a little older and wiser than the one before.

A few months ago I lost my dear sister Marie, leaving me with just a couple of people that I love and trust and whom truly love and trust me. My mother, who loved only one man her whole life (my dad!) once told me, “He gave me enough love to last me the rest of my life.” I’ll never forget her words, and I remember thinking, “I hope I feel that way someday.” Now, I believe I do. Not the same kind of love that Mom was talking about, but love from her and my dad, my sister Marie, my sister Jeanne, my niece Amanda. Why do I bring this up? Because my fresh start ties in with this. I’m not searching any longer, I’m no longer interested in being in the line of anyone’s fire, I won’t be subjected to conditional love. I’ve received enough love, and can live with what I still get. I’m okay, and I’ll take care of the people who take care of me.

Can I make a fresh start? I already am. Only time, if it is on my side, will tell how well I do.

It’s Bucket List Time!

Having a Bucket List is pretty much a given thing for most people, but did you ever think about the right time to start chipping away at it? I’ve spent so much time traveling and hiking and doing other things that I love to do that I feel like I’ve been barreling through my Bucket List for quite a while. However, less than a year ago I really started to narrow things down and decide what it is I still must do. Because…

*I’m not getting any younger. Are you?

*I have this crappy disease to contend with now.

*COVID19 changed the world for me and a lot of other people.

For all those reasons and more, I find that there are a lot of things I don’t want to do any longer, so I’m happy that I did them before now. For example: I have no real desire to sit on an airplane for twenty hours to get somewhere. (Though, given a few items on my list, I may find myself doing that at least a time or two more!) There are also things that I want to start doing, like experiencing cruises, which I have hardly done at all. I took these wishes into consideration when creating my list. My choices are truly a mix of old favorites and new interests.

Without further ado, let me share my personal Bucket List, including my progress at getting the items done. I eliminated a few this year!

Experiences

* Cruise to Antarctica. Yeah, this is top of the list, baby! I really wanted to see my seventh continent early in 2023. I’m ready. But wait! The two cruises that I narrowed my adventure down to are booked solid. No joke! Who knew that a legion of people around the world would be plunking down between $10,000 and $50,000 to board a ship for two weeks or more to see penguins and seals? Not me! But you can bet I’ll be first in line in 2024!

* Greenland Cruise. One of my travel friends and I have been talking about this one for a couple of years now, and we came oh so close to booking it for next July. Then…she backed out. I’m crushed. But I will find a way!

*Alaska Cruise. I’ve road tripped the Last Frontier twice, but have never been to southern Alaska, where there are no roads. Must get there. Not sure when this will happen, but this one will definitely be easier to pull off than the two above. Glacier Bay National Park will be part of the package. More on why below!

*Hiking in St. John, U.S. Virgin Islands. Over and over again I see St. John touted as an amazing place to hike, always as sure sign that I’ll be interested. Not sure why I haven’t jumped on this one yet.

*Australian Outback. Uh-oh, twenty hour flight! But I know it will be worth it. I’ve been Down Under once already and must go back before I leave this world.

*See the Pigs in the Bahamas. I kid you not! I’ll spend the whole trip on the beach with the pigs then come home happy. Probably another cruise. Do you see a pattern here?

*Hiking in Hawaii. Oh, and I just figured out how to get to American Samoa, so add that to this particular adventure.

Countries

*Costa Rica. I was scheduled to go in December of 2021 when COVID19 was still a hot topic. I couldn’t risk getting stuck in a foreign country, so cancelled. No plans to reschedule, but not giving up.

*Brazil. I never wanted to go here until I saw some pictures of Rio on Instagram, then it shot to the top of the list. And I want to see that big waterfall while there too. Likely to be a part of my Antarctic adventure in 2024.

*Return to Portugal. This one tugs at my heart strings, because I had to cancel my third trip to one of my favorite countries due to cancer. But there is hope…

*Switzerland. Woo-hoo! I found this really cool rail trip online and put a down payment on it for June. Let’s roll!

* Return to England. Did you ever go somewhere and not do something while there, then it sticks in your craw for, like, twenty years? Me too! Here’s the thorn in my side: In 2002 I went to London, Liverpool, and Canterbury. And yes, the journey to Liverpool was for the obvious reasons: Fangirling before the word was even part of the English vernacular. I did everything I wanted to do with regard to my beloved Beatles…except one thing: I didn’t go to the cemetery where Eleanor Rigby is buried. Can such a thing bother you for twenty years? Yes, it can. And it has. So that will be taken care of, put to rest once and for all. And just for kicks I added four days in Portugal to the end of the trip to see how much more it would cost. Turned out to be so insignificant that I’ll do it. This will all be my retirement present to myself. I intended it to be Antarctica, but this will more than suffice.

More…

*National Park Hiking. I started working on the goal to hike them all a decade or more ago, after I had already visited many of them. The 2022 count is thirty-eight down, twenty-five to go. Many of the locations I have left are remote and tough to get to, but I’m not giving up. Every summer I hike more. In fact, I knocked off a load this past summer.

*Climb The Edge in New York City. Have you heard about this? Another excuse to go to my precious Big Apple.

*Concerts. Paul McCartney, Foo Fighters, Elton John, Harry Styles, and Ed Sheeran.

*Buy My Own Little Piece of the World in a 55+ Community. I came of age not so long ago. Working on it.

*Buy and Road Trip in a Small RV. Not working on this one yet, but once other things are settled I will.

*Last but not least, I want to spend as much time as possible with my beautiful niece in South Carolina and my amazing sister Jeanne nearby.

Recent Progress

I knocked off five national parks this summer, and also saw Sir Paul McCartney and Elton John in concert. Chipping away.

Please enjoy photos from some of my recent Bucket List events!

What’s on your list?

Fangirling!

Hey, is fangirling a word? Well, if it isn’t, it is now!

I’m not normally a gushy, shivering mess when it comes to celebrities. But on my current road trip (I’m starting this post from Cleveland, Ohio, almost at the end of my drive home,) the past two days have been spent paying homage to some of my all-time favorites, namely James Dean and The Beatles!

When you live with a chronic disease like I do, you always have to wonder if you’ll get another chance to do what you love. Then again, life isn’t guaranteed for anyone, so we all might as well be doing what we want when we can! Which is how I ended up in Fairmount, Indiana, again after a twenty-eight year hiatus, and at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame at the precise time that the “Get Back to Let It Be” exhibit is running…

For whatever crazy reason, on this year’s trip I seem to be revisiting places that my beautiful mom and I first saw in 1994, on our very first cross country road trip, which spanned 9,400 miles, seven weeks, and twenty-four states. You know, that trip that is supposed to be “once in a lifetime” but turns into a yearly occurrence? (Smile.) That was the first time I was in Fairmount, Indiana. James Dean was actually born in the small city of Marion, Indiana, a few miles north, but spent most of his childhood and teenage years in Fairmount. When we first arrived in town I was, quite frankly, obsessed with Jimmy, even though he died in his Porsche Spyder eleven full years before I was born! I may have calmed down and grown up a little since then, but I’m still a big fan.

Much of the same can be said for my “thing” for The Beatles; I totally missed the Ed Sullivan experience by nearly three years, and when my dearly departed sister Marie saw them at Suffolk Downs racetrack on August 18, 1966, I was a few months from departing the womb. But I crave my Beatles lore almost as much as I do their music; seriously, what could be more interesting than being a Beatle?! From what I can recall, my first real brush with my four cherished boys was when I asked Marie to buy me Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band for one of my birthdays in my teen years. And yes, I still have it! Side note: I’ve been to Liverpool (2002) and am hoping to go back later this year, have walked the “zebra crossing” and written on the wall in front of Abbey Road Studios in London twice, have gone to the Imagine memorial in Central Park, New York City, several times. Just recently I saw Sir Paul in concert at Fenway Park in Boston. Another one off the Bucket List, and another piece of the homage completed!

Getting to Fairmount again meant adding an extra hundred miles of driving to my day, so I had my priorities set. The town is so small that it isn’t such a hard thing to drive the whole length of it, which I had to do anyway, as the items on my list were, naturally, on opposite ends. I would have liked to spend time in the James Dean Gallery and the Fairmount Historical Society (filled, of course, with more Dean memorabilia!) like I did in ’94, but what was most important to me is probably what most super fans would want to see: the grave and his boyhood home, which are very close together. I remember Park Cemetery being quite small the first time I was there, and the grave being very easy to find. Now, the place is huge and signs have to point the way or else no one would ever find it. Dean’s boyhood home has also grown considerably in the past twenty-eight years; his cousin Marcus Winslow, who was just a boy when Jimmy was making his way in Hollywood, now runs a full-fledged farm, and it is a beautiful landscape of rolling green fields and white picket fences. Marcus was out on the riding lawn mower the day I was around, and I’m happy to say that he waved to me. My brush with greatness was complete!

Interestingly, “Get Back to Let It Be” was only a small part of director Peter Jackson’s extensive documentary of the Fab Four and was skillfully inserted into the Level O exhibits of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was concerned that I wouldn’t have enough time to see the best of the hall, but because of the location of the exhibit I was able to take in most of the rest of the floor on the way to The Beatles. “Get Back to Let It Be” consisted of long-shelved excerpts of the tapes made of the recording sessions for the Let It Be album, including the famous “concert on the roof,” as well as instruments used, and other memorabilia. Because it was compact, it wasn’t overwhelming to see the entire thing, and to see it well. I was very satisfied with the entire floor!

Pilgrimages have always been included in my travels. Part of the fun is finding what is sometimes a needled in a haystack. Yeah, I think it’s about time to book that return trip to Liverpool!

About Traveling

Hey, this will be my last post for a few weeks. Vacation time is nearly here, and I’m heading back out on the road again. Which makes this the perfect time to write about one of my favorite subjects, for the first time in a while: Traveling!

I always find it so weird when people make it sound like there is some “right” way to travel. That you, as the subject, have to travel in some certain way to be a “traveler” and not a “tourist.” That there is some time frame that you have to spend in a place to make it worth your while and to satisfy others that you successfully “saw” something or somewhere. That one person’s way of traveling is superior to another person’s way of traveling. Last thing I knew, travel was supposed to be fun, like an ice cream sundae, with a learning experience on top, like a shiny red cherry, if you so choose to have one. Then again, maybe a trip is simply an escape from the rat race.

Social media is full of “influencers” who will have you believe that their way of traveling is not only better than yours, but that it’s easy and they’ll show you how to be like them, for a price. You can trot the globe while taking odd jobs like bartending and teaching English as a Second Language. Thanks, I got over working in bars when I was twenty-five, and I teach people’s kids every day and love sending them home at 2:15pm, no questions asked. I like my good paying job with paid vacations. I’d pay to see pictures of those “influencers” doing one of their real jobs in between the glossy shots from the pristine mountain top in New Zealand and the beach in Mexico. I want to see the “influencer” mixing a White Russian and looking picture perfect. Really.

Thank goodness for the unfollow button! I recently had to use it on one of the better known globe trotters that I had been following for a couple of years, because she was being pretty insulting to someone else’s way of life. What the heck happened to live and let live?

The other thought that I don’t agree with is that in order to travel in a worthwhile way you have to go to a foreign country. Make no mistake, I love exploring places outside the United States. I’ve done more than my fair share. But in a pinch, and let’s face it, we’ve been in quite a pinch since March of 2020, I’d take a road trip to the American West above all other traveling. I’ve ticked off forty plus countries thus far and have every intention of ticking off more in my own fashion once I deem it safe for me, but give me that road trip every time. It should come as no surprise that I’m heading to the American West this next trip too! I can’t WAIT!!

Here’s a secret about me that makes me different than the garden variety social media travel giant: I love coming home and I love being home, too. The pandemic gave me an excuse to stick close to home and explore my own backyard more. I always said that “someday” I’d do that more and, well, I didn’t expect cancer and COVID19 to give me the opportunity, but I’ve had a heck of a good time! I’ve always scoured New England in between bigger trips, but not like I have in the past two years. In my favorite movie of all time, Dorothy Gale went to great lengths to find out that her heart was in her own backyard. My heart is still and always will be in the American West, but New England is pretty cool too.

Before my cancer diagnosis I spent the better part of twenty years earning my keep as a special education teacher and traveling on school vacations. Maybe taking an extra day or two on either side to make my time away longer, or even escaping on a long weekend. Now that I haven’t done it for a couple of years I realize that it was exactly the way I wanted to travel. Make my money, pay for a trip, enjoy where I was without having to worry about work, and come home to earn money for more fun. After my diagnosis and through the COVID19 storm I continued my exploration as best as I could. Slowly, I’m getting my travel life back on track, though I’ve decided I want to do things and see places that I didn’t take the time to do and see before. Cruises and islands are of high interest, while twenty hour flights to the other side of the world are not really a priority. Oh, and more road trips, of course! Always more road trips!

In short, the Bucket List is officially made. It was time.

And so, I continue to explore as I see fit, and I am unapologetic.

Travel and let travel.

The Value of Extending Life

Recently, I was dealing with the very real possibility that my beautiful sister Jeanne, who has been battling health issues for more than a decade now, was going to lose the fight. Jeanne is the strongest lady I know, and is one of three people in my family that has had to overcome great odds to continue to draw breath. (My niece Amanda and I are the other two, in case you wondered!) Her struggles brought up a wide array of issues, as any health struggle does, but even more for her because Jeanne is disabled. As her sister, co-guardian, and staunchest supporter, I have to be her loudest voice. I also have to be very tuned into whether she’s getting a fair shake or not. More often than not, I am relieved to report that Jeanne does get a fair shake. I’m even more relieved to report that Jeanne pulled through her ordeal and is steadily working her way back to being herself. But it was oh, so close.

So close, in fact, that talk of DNR (do not resuscitate) orders and extending life beyond Jeanne’s comfort was at a maximum. The conversations got me thinking about the value of life and extending it, something I know a little bit about, considering I’ve been living on borrowed time for two and a half years after my lung cancer diagnosis. In those two plus years I’ve traveled and hiked and continued my teaching career and experienced life as fully as possible while also dealing with my illness and a worldwide pandemic. Are those valuable accomplishments? Is my life worth extending? Is anyone’s life worth extending? How about Jeanne’s? Who’s to decide this?

I’ve never been in the position to “pull the plug” on the life of a loved one. I don’t know what I would do. I’m neither fully for or against life support or abortion, but form an opinion based on specific circumstances. No one was making a value judgement about Jeanne continuing on, but some of the things being said struck me as leaning toward her not being able to regain her former status. Jeanne was a different person for months, with few observable signs of deterioration other than somber mood and exhaustion. Because she’s nonverbal, knowing what is going on inside of her can be a mystery. At one time she would make gestures and other outward indications that she was not well, but this time she didn’t. So a major issue festered until it was nearly too late to help her. Several days went by with her life hanging in the balance, major decisions being made, and opinions being shared. Much of what was being said made me uncomfortable, not to mention hollow and grief stricken. Life without my dearest earthly angel was unfathomable, empty. I didn’t and don’t want Jeanne to suffer. But I also wanted her life to matter, to be sure that it did and does, and for her to be able to continue the fight, if that was what she chose to do.

I spoke to my personal guardian angels and put a message out into this plain of the universe: the real decision belonged to Jeanne. If she wanted to fight, she would fight. And Jeanne wanted to fight.

I never stopped believing in her and the value of her life.

My Hero!!

Jeanne will never be able to do the things I can do. Nor will she invent electric cars or send rockets to Mars. She isn’t going to end racial discrimination or cure cancer. Most of us aren’t either. Jeanne will help with household tasks, listen to oldies on her stereo, get her nails done, go for haircuts and for rides to look at bodies of water. She’ll take part in simple activities but will revel more in the attention she’s getting. Most importantly, she will be cherished by a few dedicated family and staff members that adore her.

When I saw her in the hospital, where she lay for nearly a month, the “old Jeanne” seemed lost forever. She was unresponsive, far away, so often on the brink of leaving us. I feared for her and for us, feared that we would cross the line of making her stay when she wanted to go, of dragging her through yet another ordeal that she had no chance of making it through. But the thought of seeing the “old Jeanne” kept me praying for her safe passage back to life.

Jeanne may never do any of what I wrote above, but damn, she’s a survivor in the most incredible sense, and has offered more miracles than most people walking the planet.

Jeanne made it. Jeanne taught a lot of people a lesson about survival and the human spirit. Jeanne is quickly becoming the “old Jeanne” again. Just the way we love her.

I’m in awe of this woman!!

My sister Marie, Jeanne, and I

Who’s to Blame?

I feel like I’ve covered this subject in at least one other blog, but it’s worth discussing again.

The subject? Blame.

Whenever I turn around I hear someone else trying to get out of taking blame for anything, even the smallest mishap. As a teacher, this happens countless times per day, and it isn’t always my students denying wrong doing. I’m sorry hasn’t gone down with a fight, it died a quiet death when my bad and I didn’t do it came along, hand in hand. I’m sorry went so quietly, we didn’t see it going. We couldn’t give it a proper funeral. Rest in peace, dear words.

I’m sorry does make an appearance every so often, like a portrait of a long gone family member or lover, but it is usually not very satisfying. Unless it comes from someone whom is an upstanding and sincere person, it reeks of contamination and denial. In this case, I’ll take silence. Even the middle finger works better than a fake I’m sorry.

What’s the hardest place in the world to get another human to accept blame? I’ve been a lot of places, and in my opinion, there is no geographic location where an individual is more likely to say the two golden words. There are decent people everywhere, and there are crappy people everywhere. But I do believe this: if you are fortunate enough to be one of the aforementioned upstanding individuals out there, you live your life and treat others in a way that make it unnecessary in most cases to apologize. Sure, there will be times when you make a mistake (everyone does) because no one, as the saying goes, is perfect, and you will have to speak the calming words that you still have at your disposal and didn’t forget like most have. But you aren’t in the business to need them on a regular basis. You’re better than that. Precious people like you are everywhere in the world. The rest of us just have to find you.

One day several years ago I started to wonder when people started to dislike each other. Was it after World War II? The Civil War? The Industrial Revolution? When? Or was it in my lifetime? The 70’s, 80’s, 90’s? Perhaps it was my childish mind, or the fact that I had a lovely childhood, at least until my father died in 1977, but the 1970’s were still good years. Maybe it was the 1980’s, which were crazy fun, but also brought in technology that would eventually separate us and make us feel safe sitting behind a computer or later, a cell phone, treating each other badly. Whenever it was, we’re in big trouble now.

I try not to live my life around the news. I don’t watch TV and have not for years, but I do read headlines. I don’t read statistics either, but those headlines tell a lot of stories. Crimes against people based on skin color are well publicized. But has anyone taken note of the fact that crimes against helpless children of any and every color are skyrocketing? And against women of any and every color? Mass shootings are nearly an everyday occurrence, to the point that they’re easy to scroll by to get to something more gory. Can you hear the “I didn’t do it” ringing out through the bold print?

I’ve been around the world and around the country largely by myself. I’ve survived cancer and the deaths of the people I love most in the world. I’ve never lived in fear. But let me tell you: the things that I see going on around me make me not want to meet new people. I love and have big appreciation for the intentionally small circle of family and friends that I trust with my life. I plan to keep things just the way they are.

After several paragraphs of complaints, the question must now loom: Do I know how to apologize? Yes, I do. Do I apologize when I’m wrong? Yes, I do. Do I apologize when I feel someone has wronged me just to make peace? No, I absolutely do not. Shouldering blame for something that someone does to us doesn’t help anyone. It makes us feel like dog poop, and it makes the guilty party feel vindicated, and like they can continue their sucky behavior. Don’t do it. Because you already feel wronged over something you didn’t do, and the actual wrongdoer now has an open door to do it again and again. And will.

Let them. Save your honesty and integrity for someone who knows how to return it. You won’t be sorry. You won’t have to be.

Here I Come Again

I don’t know about you, but 2022 hasn’t exactly been a memorable year for me thus far. I’ve just dealt with six months of intense back pain dating back to September 2021, in addition to stage IV lung cancer dating back to October 2019. Yay, me.

But guess what? I finally got what I needed. Did my six weeks of physical therapy, (well, eight!) then my insurance company ponied up for my steroid injection. As I type, it has been a handful of days, and I definitely feel a difference. I’m hoping that as the next week or two passes, I’ll feel even better. Just as important as the way my body feels, is the way my mind feels: I finally have a stepping stone for turning my life around. Again. How many times will I do this? How many times will I be allowed to do this before my clock stops ticking? Somehow, someway, I don’t think I’m done. I think I can move forward. As some people like to say, “You got this.”

What a sigh of relief.

Funny/not funny what pain does to you. I can almost handle the cancer, because the odd truth is that my life continued much as it did before my diagnosis once I was on the right treatment plan. But this back stuff? It has tormented me beyond anything physical I’ve ever dealt with, has delivered a crushing blow. Add sucky New England weather to the mix and it’s a true recipe for disaster. I have not been to my favorite local hiking haunt in two months! This is horrific news! From September until November I continued my exploration of the trails around Quabbin Reservoir even though my back ached, and it kept me sane. Since the snow and ice shut me out of much of my outdoor activity I’ve been yearning to get back outside with the animals and the trees, to get my feet moving, take some pictures, feel like I’m alive again. Here I wait (impatiently) for a stretch of weather that’s warm enough to melt some of the ice and give me a Saturday afternoon to get back out there and forget about stuff for a while.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve kept myself busy with my “indoor” loves: writing my latest book, posting to this here blog, doing my special brand of artwork, reading, working on photo albums, continuing my studies of the Polish language. I’m not giving any of that up! I just have to get back to walking off those steps and miles that mean so much to me and keep me grounded. You really don’t know how very much something means to you until you can’t do it.

Know what else I need to do? Plan travel. I’m heading to South Carolina again in a couple of weeks to see my beloved niece. I need more on the calendar after that. I’ve always kept myself going by making plans. I’m seeing Southern Utah, Cape Cod, California, Oregon, and Portugal in the not so distant future. Maybe later in the year I’ll reschedule my canceled trip to Costa Rica, but COVID19 has to look a lot better before I even think about leaving the country. As long as I go somewhere, I’ll be okay. The idea of getting back to globe trotting and country hopping is always a possibility, but is not the necessity that it used to be. I’ve done a lot of crazy stuff, and I’ll do plenty more, but safety is first and doing what appeals to me most runs a close second.

Right now, my number one goal is to drive twenty miles to the north and walk a flat trail down to the edge of the largest inland body of water in Massachusetts, like I’ve done hundreds of times before. Having the sun shining would be a big plus. Melting snow, even better. And silence. Lord, give me silence! Five miles of silence. I have not done a five miler in several weeks. Several weeks too long.

Even though my feet aren’t quite moving yet again, just being able to wrap my mind around the possibility of resuming my active life is a miracle. Maybe 2022 will have some happy memories after all?

Hey, guess what? I got my airfare to Albuquerque, my chosen gateway to Southern Utah, last night. Booked my hotel on Cape Cod earlier in the week. The forecast for this Saturday is for sun and 50 degrees. I’m adding hiking to that forecast. It can’t come soon enough.

Yeah, I got this.

Dear Fellow Humans: Breathe

Well, here we are again: the “Christmas season.” The season of joy and giving and spending time with people that we love. Of reaching out to our fellow humans and showering them with goodness. Of making sure the needy have something to look forward to. Of…

Oh, wait, does this sound like us? Or is this more accurate: the Christmas season means that we run up a big electric bill making sure that our lights look better than everyone else’s in the neighborhood. That we are fighting each other for the closest parking space at Walmart. That we’re trampling our fellow shoppers to get the flat screen TV for fifty bucks off while supplies last. That our children don’t know that Christmas is really about the birth of Christ, not the presents that they’re getting.

That last one is a true story. As a teacher, I deal with around fifty students on a daily basis (but not all at one time!) One year, I was really tired of hearing the twelve in front of me talking nonstop about what they were expecting under the tree. Let me tell you, these weren’t the ten dollar variety presents, but big label sneakers, ridiculous video games, and the latest technology that they didn’t have the know how to need. Add up the prices and I could get up and back across the country a couple of times. But I digress. That year, I put my students to the test: what does Christmas really mean? Most of them said, “Opening presents.” Only one could tell me that it is a celebration of the birth of Christ, and if she didn’t go to church she would have been at a loss, too. I’ve never forgotten this day.

This post isn’t about religion. It’s about the direction we’re going in as people. Are we heading toward a good place? No, we’re screwed, and only getting worse. (IMHO.)

We need Christmas right now like we need a hole in the head, to coin an old saying. This holiday brings out the worst in so many people. I can’t wait until it’s over. Escaping has always been my way of dealing with it, and if all goes as planned, this year won’t be any different. If I look happy in the pictures in this post, it’s because I’m celebrating Christmas in my own way: far away from the nonsense that our traditions have turned into. Nothing feels better than warming a plane seat after handing out the gifts I had to endure long lines and bad attitudes to purchase.

Even without Christmas, we lack empathy. Take it from me, I’ve been living with a chronic illness (called advanced lung cancer, and no, I didn’t smoke!) for over two years now, and it has become very clear to me that other than a handful of amazing family members and friends, most don’t care what you’re going through. I’m not looking for sympathy, but courtesy would be nice. And courtesy is a dying art.

You know what would also be nice? If humans would just calm down. Several times a day I see people freaking out in everyday situations. My biggest pet peeve is the way we act when we get behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. No matter how big the vehicle is, from a standard car to an eighteen wheeler, drivers are in a gigantic hurry to most times get absolutely nowhere by weaving in and out of traffic at top speed, tailgating, and driving distracted. Good luck to the hapless squirrel, or worse, the hapless child getting in the way. Daily, these jokers take my life into their hands, not to mention their own. And this is only one example of bad behavior that has encompassed our nation.

I try not to focus on bad news, but avoiding it these days is getting to be more of a challenge. Maybe it’s because social media constantly has some awful tragedy thrown in our faces, or maybe it’s because we can’t handle not getting our way about something without going to the extreme to avenge our hurt feelings.

And now, we have the mania of Christmas to add to the hysteria, the glut of advertising and garish tinsel, ready made trees, and decor that varies from French fries to ballerinas and includes every interest in between. May I remind you that on December 26th it will all be abandoned in the yesterday’s news aisle and we’ll then be inundated with red and pink Valentine’s hearts for the second most annoying “holiday” on the calendar?

Heaven help us.

Think good and hard the next time you get yourself into a twist to beat someone to the next red light, or to shove yourself into the checkout line in front of an elderly person. Think about what you’re really going to gain.

Breath, folks, breathe. This stuff is not that important. Save your energy for when you really have to deal with something big.

Stop Calling me “Sick”

I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, and many of them are unprintable. I’ve been called a lot of things since I was diagnosed two years ago with Stage IV lung cancer, and while most of them are probably printable, a few of them are out of this world unbelievable that someone would have the gall to refer to me in such a fashion. One term that I’m really done with is “sick.” According to several people, I’m “sick.” Sometimes the word is inserted into a favorable sentence, so I guess that makes it okay. An example: “No one would ever know that you’re sick.” Am I supposed to be flattered? Would you be flattered if I said this to you? The truth is this: Your “sick” description only moves me further away from who I’m fighting to be again: ME.

How many times do I have to say this? How many people do I need to tell? If I’m not interested in being a “warrior” or a “hero,” why in heaven’s name would I want to be “sick?” The irony is that if I didn’t tell someone that I live with cancer, they wouldn’t even know it. I have stopped telling most people my story, have stopped sharing it on Facebook, have refrained from updates and day by day reports. But some of those in the know have my dossier open in front of them, and instead of being the “Barb Lee, writer, blogger, and traveler,” of the past, I am now “Barb Lee, full-time cancer warrior and permanent sicko.” Never mind that I continue to do all the things that make me who I used to be. Now, my illness defines me.

For the record, are there times when cancer consumes me? Of course. In fact, now is one of those times. As I type this I feel like crap. My back hurts, my gut hurts, my head hurts, I want summer back, and I want this pain to go away. I want my medication to keep working, though I fear it has stopped being effective. I don’t want to be “sick” in the eyes of those who think I am. I want to have another round of great scans next week and keep going in the right direction. Right now, none of those things are happening or seem like they will work out, and I’m floundering.

But here’s what history tells me: I always manage to turn the corner. Though it’s always in the back of my mind that someday I won’t turn the corner, I have not reached that particular curve in the road yet. Nor am I planning to any time soon. Does that sound sick?

And how about this fact: I really do love being a survivor. There is something pretty special about being a survivor. A lot of folks out there claim to be survivors, but only some of us can really offer hard and fast proof of cheating death. So should I accept being labeled as “sick” because in order to be a “survivor” I had to come from a place of being severely ill?

Then there’s that pesky little fact that Stage IV cancer isn’t curable. But what the general public doesn’t know is that the cases of people living well beyond their expected expiration date are on the rise in a major way. Big Pharma isn’t withholding a cure for cancer to make money. Big Pharma is plugging away behind the scenes to keep making better and better drugs so that cancer patients like me can continue to live our lives like we always have. There ain’t nothing sick about that!

Here’s a fact too: a pretty high percentage of those that refer to me as “sick” don’t do nearly as much in a day as I do. Maybe they’re the sick ones?

I didn’t feel good for a decade before my diagnosis. Almost always, something didn’t feel right. For a while, I ran doctor to doctor trying to figure out why a woman who was in great shape, looked as healthy as a horse, and did everything she could to stay that way, felt like crap. No one had answers. Some of the individuals I pleaded with for help didn’t believe me. One of my favorite comments was, “Are you depressed? Do you need an anti-depressant?” I gave up after a while and just dealt with whatever I was feeling inside. Until I got the big answer in October of 2019. Quite an eye opener.

Sigh.

The moral of the story is this: I don’t feel that much worse than I did when everyone thought that there was nothing wrong with me, when what was really wrong was unknown. No one thought I was “sick” then. The only difference is that the secret is out, and it’s a big ugly one. I’m still the same ME, and I don’t accept the “sick” label any more than I accept the “warrior” label.

Please…STOP.