Surfacing

It happens so quickly – the sun is there, practically blinding you, and then it’s gone.

I could spend time recapping the lessons I’ve learned, attempting to communicate them with the perfect words and metaphors, or I could get straight to the truth. I haven’t written for months because I didn’t know what to write. The passion that carried me through this crazy year has dulled to a less urgent, more gentle appreciation for Life. It did so unceremoniously, like watching rough water gradually soften to glass – not as vibrant as it once was but, rather, calm and relatively predictable. Reflecting on this situation, I recognize the irony here – the rough water, though treacherous at times, was manageable. I navigated my way through, determined to confront head on whatever swells and currents presented themselves, grateful for the opportunity to fight my way out of danger. But what do you do when the storm passes? Without a problem to solve, the answers are harder to come by.

I suppose it’s the lack of activity that draws fear. I’m well. I have no surgeries scheduled. I’ve been given the green light to live my life fully. And yet, I’m a little paralyzed by the nothingness.

I’ll always be scared of cancer but, then again, I’ll always be afraid of a lot of things. At least I can somewhat control cancer if it were ever to return. I can’t say the same about my other fears – frogs, sharks, accidentally driving off a cliff…

I read something about fear and faith – how they are the two choices we have and, depending on which we lead with, so will our life be determined. To me, faith comes easy when I am in synch with peace, with love, and with gratitude. When those things get out of synch, my faith wanes.

It’s time to move on to the next phase of my relationship with life, but first I want to take stock of the blessings that I have received this year, the first having to do with the simple fact that I am here at all, green lit, fully functioning. Gratitude. Other amazing things have evolved as well – I say no more often, I’ve stopped engaging with people who are bad for me, I recognize moments in real time, I waste less time worrying, and I take risks. I love better now, too. Gratitude.

It’s way too easy to become negative when you don’t have a compelling need to be otherwise. It creeps up on you slowly, until you are blindly consumed. Pissed off by someone’s bad driving, or irritated by someone’s bad behaviour in a restaurant, or frustrated with yourself, negative energy becomes all encompassing, breeding more of its kind as days go by. I’ve caught myself in this trap a lot lately. Life gets a little stressful and instead of breathing in the positive moments, I find myself allowing negativity into my being and manifesting itself into the way I approach the world. It’s not pretty, and it needs to stop. I need to find peace again.

Real love can only happen when you love yourself. It can only be as strong as the self love you practice. I routinely ask myself if I’m truly happy with me. If I’m not, I ask why. Love is hard sometimes and it can hurt, but it’s as vital to life as the heart where it exists. It’s like breathing – you just have to do it to survive in this world.

It’s so easy to be grateful when life bestows gift after gift upon you. Thank you for my family, my amazing boyfriend, beautiful sunsets, for music and sushi and warm days…for being alive for to experience them all…Gratitude comes easy when the threat of losing everything looms, but it can also slowly pull away. I told myself I’d wake up each day and thank the universe as my feet first touch the floor. I forget to do that sometimes now, and I shouldn’t. It’s definitely time to be grateful again. Thank you, Life.

Wellness. Eat right, get sleep, exercise, find peace. There’s no excuse in the world for turning my back on wellness. The truth is, to no take care of myself is blatantly disrespectful to whatever miracle spared me. I need to eat more kale.

So that’s it. Nothing earth shattering or even very clever, but I needed to get something out into the universe to remind myself to be better. To live better. To love myself and my people better. I’ll read my posts on occasion, to keep the reality of all that’s transpired alive. I never want the lessons I’ve learned to be in vain or to lose their value as time goes by and memories fade. I know I have more to learn. Perhaps the secret is to find peace and love and gratitude in the calm waters.

People and things…

I feel things so much more deeply these days. I was told this would happen…

One of the first “whoa” moments (yes, it’s a modification of the great O’s “aha” but I can’t just be re-using coined phrases, can I?), came a few days after my diagnosis. Gotta stop here to say that if this is the first of my posts you’ve ever read, that weird little parenthesized aside up there came in much earlier than normal. Not usually first paragraph stuff so I apologize, although you may want to just settle in and get used to it. It’s my voice. What can I say?

Back to business – I want to spend a few posts talking about extraordinary people and things that have made me say “whoa” or “oh my god” or “HO. LEE. SHIT. WOW. OKAY THEN” or even rendered me speechless (rare). All of these things, call them whatever cute little catch phrase you like, are synonymous with my amazement in having the universe just flat out drop things in my lap when I have most needed them. The “things” came in various form: answers, understanding, patience, calm, forgiveness, hope, composure, strength, vulnerability, and love like you wouldn’t believe! These things I’ve been given were made possible by the most amazing gift from a relative stranger that, without question, changed the course of my life.

If I was a director setting the scene, as it was, when this life-changer occurred, it would look something like:

Woman, 47, has just been diagnosed with invasive breast cancer and has been basically existing in a state of shock and panic for several days. She hasn’t yet shared the news with family, including her children, but randomly told a trusted colleague and friend, perhaps an effort to practice breaking the news although it is unclear. She is sure she is going to be dead in a year and can barely look her daughter in the eye because it’s too painful to imagine not watching her grow up. It’s pretty bad.

The colleague/friend has shared the woman’s news with his other friend, who is also a highly esteemed oncologist currently on sabbatical. The doctor, not knowing a thing about the woman other than her diagnosis, offers to call her. The friend asks the woman how she feels about that? The woman replies “sure, that’s fine” with little expression. It plays out like this:

And so I was driving, kind of lost. Lost in my thoughts and lost in the confusion of the cancer but also literally lost, as in, I hate my GPS and I’m late and I have no idea how to get back to I-5, lost. I was thinking about being lost, too. About how what I really need now was to navigate through this mess, figuratively, literally, the works. As I am pondering away, my phone rings. It is the doctor, friend of my friend. I had completely spaced the conversation, but found a place to pull over to talk. Honestly, I was thinking it would be about a 5 minute conversation. I doubt he really wanted to be spending his time off (turns out he is also on vacation) talking to cancer patients. I was wrong. Turns out that this man, who has never been my actual doctor, was  about to initiate my healing, over the phone, from Palm Springs.

The first thing he said was that he wasn’t calling to give medical advice, and that because he wasn’t currently practicing, he couldn’t do so anyway. He wanted, rather, to talk about the process I was about to go through. He didn’t use the word journey, which I thoroughly appreciated. He asked me to describe my diagnosis, my family situation, my job, and my life in general. He listened to me go on and on, interjecting only briefly for clarification, until I had, for the first time, shared my story in its entirety. He then spoke to me and, even months later, I can still remember the sensation of my numbness being replaced by something new – hope, maybe? It was electrifying.

He told me that cancer was systemic and that my approach needed to reflect that. Although I would feel overwhelmed by the many doctors and tests and would likely be inclined to look ahead and what is next, I needed to remain in step with whatever tests or treatments were currently being done. All I had been able to think about was whether or not the cancer had spread and to where and how much. He told me that it would be revealed in time and that it was important to stay in the moment. He also told me, as did the radiologist when he unofficially diagnosed the tumor he found, that “cancer is not a death sentence.” A good one to remember.

He also told me that for all the questions and uncertainty that I would encounter in coming weeks and months, there were a couple things I could be certain of.  These “couple of things” ended up being everything – the driving force through which I have been able to manage this crazy ride for the past five months and I am beyond grateful to have them as my guide. Here they are. Seriously, you’re going to want to cut and paste this shit, whether you have cancer or not.

He said (and of course I’m paraphrasing – it’s not like I was writing it down),

“Tracy, there are a couple of things you can be sure will happen.

You are going to experience a lot of twists and turns as you go through this process. You will receive both good news and then you’ll get bad news, repeatedly. It’s just the way it goes. You’ll never know what’s coming next and you shouldn’t waste your energy guessing or worrying. You just need to accept that. The important thing is that you take care of yourself and of your family, and do what you can to facilitate the healing process.”

That was some good stuff, but it got better. The next thing he said is more fundamental to my existence and my relationship to the universe  than I can begin to describe. I have used it to reign myself in when I feel scared by a lump or a cough or a headache. I have drawn on its power when I feel frustrated or impatient or stressed out or when I think I’m too busy writing these posts to sit down with my daughter and talk about middle school girl drama. Most importantly, I use it when I feel like a victim of cancer, or anything else for that matter, and instead, it helps me to feel joy and gratitude for the moments I’ve been given. Again, I paraphrase,

“Lastly, I will tell you this and it is the best news by far. You may not know what the future holds, but know that in the end, you will be better. You will be a better mother, daughter, sister, and friend. And you will be a better person for having experienced cancer. You will be more compassionate, empathetic and grateful and you will help others become better as well. And you know what else? You will love more strongly than ever, and you will hold on tighter to the people who you love in ways that people who haven’t gone through cancer can’t even fathom. I’m sure it’s not the ideal way to achieve this, but it’s going to feel really good.”

This conversation with the doctor – it brought me no closer to knowing whether I would live or not live through cancer. There was no new insight provided that suggested what stage or phase my cancer was in, or whether it was hormone receptor positive or genetic. Months of tests would answer those questions. It was, our conversation, my GPS (one that actually worked) and my salvation. It wasn’t about do I live it was, from then on, about how I would live. It hasn’t all been smooth, and there will always be twists and turns, but it’s good, this living. It’s really, really good.

Note:  I’ve re-gifted this many times, adding my own small pieces here and there. I hope you will, too. 🙂

Love Peace Gratitude 4Life©