Positively Positivity

Whew! I was really hoping to be back here long before now, but guess what? I recently returned to face to face teaching, with students in the same room for the first time in over a year. After working remotely followed by an accommodation due to a serious underlying illness (advanced lung cancer…yikes!) for the entire 2020-2021 school year, I’m in front of the kids again for real. Masks are required for everyone, so it isn’t quite the same, but I have to admit that it’s been a mostly positive experience for me to be back in the routine I was in for many years before my cancer diagnosis. In fact, I feel quite normal, and can even sometimes forget that I have a deadly disease. Add last week’s great scans to that equation and it makes for some happy times. But heck, what a struggle to get here, and believe me, I’d be a fool to think that it’s going to last. Which doesn’t mean I’m not going to enjoy the break until the next big cancer event, and that I won’t hope and pray that I have lots of time before that happens.

How did I get to this more comfortable place?

I got (and continue to get) the best medical care possible.

I asked for no sympathy.

I found new ways to do what I love.

I found new things to love.

I surrounded myself with positivity.

I didn’t (and don’t) let my illness define me.

Please click the links above to read previous posts on how I live successfully with a chronic illness that initially spun my world around and still continues to at the drop of a hat.

In this post, I will discuss point number five, surround yourself with positivity

Let me put it right out there: you don’t need people throwing around their own special brand of negativity when you’re already dealing with more heartache than most humans can handle. Do you know what it’s like to have a needle in your arm and lie in a tight, noisy machine while it scans your brain? Then to get out of that machine and get in a different one to scan most of the rest of your body? How about radiation? Ever had it? Or, think about what it might be like when you just want to live your life but you can’t because you have to do things to save your life. Now, add a negative person or two to that and aren’t you feeling extra super sucky? Yeah, I’ve been there, done that.

So, what do you do? The solution is simple to say, difficult to accomplish. Complicated, because the negative individual is oftentimes someone we love and we think we have to be “nice” and let that person chip away at us when our health woes are already doing that, because to get rid of them is “mean” and we just don’t dare cross that line. Listen, there’s no definitive proof in medicine that stress and unhappiness cause diseases and illnesses to fester inside of us. But last summer when I was in Boston for three weeks receiving radiation I was under siege, being called every ugly thing in the world by someone who claims to love me, and the emotional pain I was feeling was palpable. This was on top of being off my cancer medication and limping around Boston five days a week to get my treatments, being away from home, being masked several hours a day in heat and humidity, and wondering if the radiation was even going to work to save my life.

I know now that the radiation did its job pretty well, but five months later I had metastasis in my lower body, and guess what? The abuse continued. When I was sitting around a medical facility alone because of COVID19, too far from home, and fearing for my life again after a pretty good run at cancer, the abuse didn’t stop. I still remember that cold December night very well. I had just turned fifty-four. And I certainly wasn’t getting what I wanted for my birthday.

Alas, I have gained control of this situation since then. I was “mean.” I wasn’t “nice.” I had to avoid this hurt and pain at all costs, and I still do. I’m not much on sidestepping problems, but then I never had cancer to deal with. I danced around this blemish in my life and a few others that threatened to bring me to the ground. Sorry folks, it’s about me now. I can’t afford the abuse, any abuse. My goal is zero percent negativity, but this is pretty much impossible to achieve unless you never leave the house!

Truth is, I’m overwhelmed (underwhelmed?) by some of the adversity I’ve had to deal with on top of cancer. You would think people would know better. But some don’t. Does it still apply to say that whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger? Perhaps, but when you’re already dealing with something that has the potential to kill you, any extra adversity is totally unnecessary.

Say good-bye to it in the nicest way possible. And if you can’t do it nicely, it’s okay. You’ve earned the right to be “mean.”

Not Another Cancer Survivor’s Story?!

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Yeah, I’m a cancer survivor, and yeah, I’m writing a book about my journey. Told here for the first time, the tome’s working title is “Destination Life: My Cancer Road Trip.” Though everyone has a story to tell whether they have cancer or not, I think that my tale is quite interesting, perhaps even a little over the top, and not one you’re going to hear that often. Some parts of it are typical for sure. Yes, my life was devastated. (Though really, is having your life devastated “typical?”) Yes, I was frightened that I was going to die. And yes, I had an incredible amount of stuff to learn. This is probably where the “typical” part of my journey ends. Because I’m one of those people that eventually took control of my care, had a fair amount of good luck in a bad luck situation, called out the prayer warriors, eliminated negativity, and saw things turn around quite dramatically. I know the wonders of modern medicine. I know the power of Big Pharma. But I had to go through some poop to get to the right place.

Before all that happened, I was just a human being flailing with the thought that my life would never be the same again, and maybe I wouldn’t even have a life to look forward to:

It’s still warm in New England, and foliage season is approaching. Autumn is not my favorite time of the year as it is for many, but definitely a beautiful time, and one that I always enjoy hiking in. The leaves are changing colors, and so is the rest of my world. As my sister drives us home the “C” word starts to set in. I look at other people out the window and they appear so casual, so carefree, no worries in the world. They don’t have to think about cancer, but I do. And I come to understand something again, that I realized in 2004 after my mom passed: the world still goes on. Life goes on, even as you’re suffering, even as your life or your world has suddenly been dealt a devastating blow. The world doesn’t care. It has to keep turning for everyone else. It is one of the many sad facts of humanity.

As I write this post, I’m stronger than ever in many ways, but I had to find my wings to fly through my new life. It wasn’t always easy or positive. The ground I was walking on was shaky, uncertain. The fear was real, and debilitating. For a while, the news was getting worse. Here’s an excerpt from one of my darkest days:

A lymph node on the right side of the base of my neck is on the rise. Supposedly it’s on the PET scan, but wait…wrong. The one on the PET is in the lung, a hilar node. The neck node is unaccounted for. I discover it when I scratch my shoulder one night, while talking to my sister on the couch. So now there’s four areas.

          Or…five?

          Dr. L finds an abnormality in the back of my throat and matches it up on the scan. Now we have to find out what these two new discoveries are. The possibility of two different cancers is floating around. Could I really be that unlucky? Head and neck cancer, and lung cancer, too? The cure word gets tossed aside, the waters  muddied. The rug gets pulled out from under me again.

          More questions without answers are swirling around. This is an all-time low point. Two more biopsies are on the near horizon. The throat node requires a trip to another specialist, an ear, nose, and throat (ENT) doctor.

          Treatment looms too far ahead as cancer grows inside me, packing its bags for an adventurous road trip.

I wasn’t totally serious about this book when I sat down to type it from the original journal I composed in longhand. But I’m committed to it now, as hard as it is to relive such heartrending moments so soon after they happened. Yes, this was only four months ago. Oh, how far I’ve come since then!

I don’t know how this particular book will end, since my new life is still unfolding in the most interesting of ways. Nor do I  know when it will be done. I’m not on a schedule; I’m in no hurry. But I’m pretty sure that it won’t be the only book of its kind. Thinking it might be a series. I have a lot to say, and I’ve always wanted to write nonfiction. Here’s my chance!

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Am I Cancer, or Am I Still Me?

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Ever since I was diagnosed with lung cancer two months ago I’ve been having a real identity crisis. Suddenly, I have this thing sticking out of my neck that probably nobody notices but me, yet I’m my harshest critic. It’s ugly, it’s embarrassing, it marks me as not being like everyone else. I’m a tumor. Who would want to hang around with me? I might be contagious. And truth be told, I’ve already been dumped by someone I thought was one of my best and closest friends. So, I must not be me anymore. I must be nothing more than a cancer growth.

I’ve started to have social anxiety. Me, the traveler that a few months ago was expounding on the wonders of Sri Lanka after an exciting summer trip. Me, the hiking lady. Me, the road trip queen. Going shopping is a challenge now. Everyone looks so happy and cancer free. Going for a walk is a great achievement. What if I feel weak or need to sit down? Driving is even more aggravating than it used to be, that petty nut behind me trying to push me to go faster, not knowing the challenges I’m facing. Get a life, will ya? I got cancer, screwball. You: In a big hurry to get to McDonald’s for dinner. Me: Figuring out how to save my own life. Beat that. Yeah, you’re seriously going to get the finger now. No questions asked.

I keep hearing the usual things.

“Everyone has problems.” Yes, I know. But not everyone has the problem of figuring out how to be here to see the calendar flip to 2021 in thirteen months, when the statistics say it isn’t going to happen. Not everyone has a devastating disease rendering them unable to do seventy-five percent of the things they love to do.

“You’re still you, and we love you!” I know that, too. I don’t blame my mindset on anyone but me and cancer. You wouldn’t feel any differently if the future you were working so hard toward and looking so forward to might not ever happen.

“You’re not being a warrior!” Listen, I can’t be a warrior one hundred percent of the time, and for a person who had the rug pulled out from underneath her several weeks ago, I think I’m doing pretty good, in spite of it all. By some small miracle I’m not severely depressed, even though my life has changed from hopping planes to hopping on hospital tables. From hiking poles to biopsy needles. From Southwestern road trips to doctor’s office road trips.

Am I working through it? Yes, I am. I realize that life is fleeting for everyone. It can end at any time. There’s no guarantees for anyone. It’s a crap shoot that we’re all destined to lose. Maybe, though, I’d rather not know when, how, or why it’s going to happen.

Lately, I’ve been listening closely to the words I put out to the world, and I’ve changed the way I’ve been doing it. Instead of bemoaning my situation, I’m thinking of it as a hurdle I have to get over to get back to what I want. Instead of assuming that I’m not going to reach my goals, I’ve put them back on the table. Retirement is still a possibility. Getting back to traveling is, too. Over the weekend I took my first hike in a month and a half. Was it as fun as it used to be? No. But I can’t expect miracles. I just have to chip away at the hole I’ve dug for myself since this all started.

Oh, wait, was I really me and not a tumor just a couple short months ago? Yes. Then maybe I’m not that far from where I need to be. I’ve begun treatment and am ready to see this ugly piece of costume jewelry start to shrink. Until then, it’s easily covered with any number of pretty scarves I used to wear just because I liked them. I’ve been lucky enough to be granted a pass on chemotherapy, so I won’t need to deal with the extra added burden of being stared at while trying to look fashionably bald. Go, me.

I’ve stepped up my daily fitness goals. Though they’re still a shadow of what they used to be, they’re still better than they were. I’ve made some new norms, since many of the old norms aren’t possible right now. And yes, I have five realistic goals set for 2020. Let’s not worry about 2021 quite yet.

Something has to make me happy. My life can’t be all about cancer. Thankfully, most of the poking and prodding is over now that treatment has started. And the endless phone calls have ceased, too. Though I have to admit, those annoyances kept me busy with little time to think about anything else.

Now, I have to think about getting me back and ceasing to be defined by a tumor. Maybe I’ll even figure out, like some cancer survivors do, that there’s a really good reason behind all this, as ironic as that sounds.

I want to believe there is. Just be patient with me while I find it.

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