“Anniversary: The annually recurring date of a past event, especially one of historical, national, or personal importance.” – American Heritage Dictionary
With cancer being so prevalent in our society today, it seems as though I can be in a room full of people and at least a third of them have had cancer and the rest of them have had it hit close to home. Long gone are the days of the 60s when no one said it out loud and it was all a big secret. Afraid of the social stigma associated with cancer and people actually thinking it was contagious. (Now I’m not saying that there still isn’t some stigmas and social death that occurs with cancer, there is, but it is light years from what it used to be, and for that I’m grateful.)
But there are a few areas in this cancer journey that always LOOM large to me that make my heart ache. Those who, even though they are surviving, and often well, are STUCK in the fact that they have cancer. Every check up is one where prayers are asked for, worry and anxiety permeate the patient and/or family. Each anniversary of when they were told is one that is like attending a funeral. While there are others who do truly celebrate their survival, there are still too many of you who do not. I would like to help to turn that right upside down on it’s head! It’s truly a time to celebrate. You are alive and have enjoyed 365 more days with those you love. Maybe you’ve been able to walk your daughter down the isle, see a grand baby born, a graduation, a first car. Maybe you have taken that dream trip you were putting off and now you just aren’t putting those things off anymore. GOOD FOR YOU! Celebrate these blessings. We all have an expiration date folks. “None of us gets out alive!” (as my dear friend Bob reminds me of with his quirky, fun, sense of humor. In fact, Bob has shared with me that every morning when he wakes up, he takes just a few moments to be grateful that he has woken up for one more day to enjoy the banalities of life, ride his motorcycle, spend it with those he loves.) A cancer diagnosis may mean it’s your time. It may also mean, you need to change some things and you’re on deck, and don’t you forget it! Well, of course you won’t forget it, but does that mean you have to allow it to define your life? I hope not. I think not!
“My cancer scare changed my life. I’m grateful for every new, healthy day I have. It has helped me prioritize my life.” – Olivia Newton-John
When we finished our treatment, I really contemplated, as I mentioned in the last post, what I would do now. All this information I had garnered. All this application of my life’s philosophy and experiences in this very dire situation with Dave’s health. Our children, our finances, our crisis. It was like my whole life had prepared me for this monumental tragedy sitting before me. The most significant thing I realized that helped to get the heavy chains unleashed off my heart, soul, and mind, was that whether he made it or not, I would indeed survive. My goal was to give it everything I had within the parameters of his own personal wishes, keeping in mind I was along for the ride, but he was the one who was threatened.
Having had cancer with my mother, I knew all too well that Dave’s bigger challenge, should he survive his treatment and get a sustained remission, would be learning how to live with cancer. Being ever the planner and a few steps ahead of anticipating the next phase, I brought this up with Dave around April ’09, before we headed into our 2nd and final SCT at Arkansas in the Fall. It just felt right to get him thinking about it, ready for it.
Some people get into remission and actually get depressed! How can that be? It doesn’t make sense, then again it does. They’ve lost a lot. They’ve lost their comfort, certainty, ability to plan into the future, maybe their job, some friends/family, their home. Picking up the pieces after treatment and being willing to dare to look to the future is not as easy as it sounds. Our comfort zone has pretty much mutated into something we don’t recognize.
I remember when caring for my mom and again for Dave, I would not commit to anything. I would always tell folks, “I will try.” I always thanked them for continuing to ask and giving me every opportunity to join them and hoped they kept doing that, even if I didn’t partake. I would put it on the calendar and I would make the effort. However, I always maintained a very large and visible escape route. Sometimes, I was simply too tired and I would rather sit and veg on the couch with Dave. And you know what? I allowed myself to do that. Other times, I really did PUSH myself out there and was always happy that I did once I got there. I figured my friends and family would understand, and they did. If they didn’t, well, screw ’em. I no longer allowed the obligatory functions to dictate my time or my conscious. My only obligations were to Dave, my children and myself. Everything and everyone else was a luxury, though one I appreciated greatly as long as it didn’t make me feel guilty or bad. I simply refused to allow that anymore. And I still refuse to allow it anymore.
“During chemo, you’re more tired than you’ve ever been. It’s like a cloud passing over the sun, and suddenly you’re out. You don’t know how you’ll answer the door when your groceries are delivered. But you also find that you’re stronger than you’ve ever been. You’re clear. Your mortality is at optimal distance, not up so close that it obscures everything else, but close enough to give you depth perception. Previously, it has taken you weeks, months, or years to discover the meaning of an experience. Now it’s instantaneous.” – Melissa Bank
It’s almost as if the journey of my life was picking away at these last little bits of perspective that were in need of deep philosophical attention. You know… You think you’ve answered the question and the teacher says, “What else do you notice?” and you have NO IDEA what they are talking about! You are quite proud of yourself and yet they are pushing, pushing, and pushing for more! In retrospect, I really can see that now. I thought I was pretty good but I had no idea just how much better it could be. It was foreign to me to feel that good. Not anymore.
So how do you turn this around? Well, look at all the things that you have been able to keep doing because your cancer was found and it was treated. If it hadn’t been found when it was, where would you be? I know many of us have had a catastrophic event that got us our diagnosis and maybe we are still royally pissed off at our physicians who missed it or insurance who dropped the ball, etc. Let all that go and look at the events that transpired, without bias. For instance, for us, the doctor we first consulted with was highly recommended and yet she was so horribly pessimistic and I was so royally pissed off, that we traveled 2,200 miles to Arkansas. I still had a wild hair going when we got there and suddenly, as I was walking to the car, having left Dave in the clinic for me to drive around and pick up, a calmness washed over me. The lightbulb went off. We were not supposed to be treated by her. I should send her a thank you note for being such a horses hind part! It was then the realization of my entire life came before me. That if I do everything I’m supposed to do and the door is still shut, it is not the door I’m supposed to travel through. I broaden my peripheral vision and look for the light peeking through the door I’m supposed to open and it’s always the correct one.
“I don’t think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.” – Anne Frank
When we finished our first SCT after being in Arkansas for almost 8 weeks. It was dark outside in the early morning, with the car packed to the hilt and poor Kip jammed in the back seat probably thinking, “seriously?” I was getting ready to drop Dave off for his early morning flight home to California, where his parents would meet him and I would begin the long drive home. “Don’t worry Kip, some of those suitcases are coming out!” I started the car. It was January and it was cold. I reached over and took Dave’s hand and I said. “OK. Before I move out of this spot I want us to both take a moment and congratulate ourselves for all that we have accomplished!” And we began to say out loud everything we had done and survived and had successfully completed. Dave let out a lot of air. He relaxed. We shared a sentimental sweet kiss and off we went.
We don’t generally think about the day his cancer was discovered. We generally think more about when he finished his treatment. That’s the one that one of us will mention.
The first time we went back to Arkansas, after treatment was complete for our first check up, I sat down with Dave and said, “Now I want our twice a year trips to Arkansas to be completely different than the year of treatment we spent there. I want to create something special. There are wonderful places to stay there and great restaurants and cool things we can do. I want to do that.” Dave nodded his head. He got it. He saves up travel miles and so on to get us into a nice hotel or a great rental car. I tell people that twice a year Dave and I have a romantic getaway to Little Rock, Arkansas and they laugh and laugh. And you know what? We really do look forward to it and have a great time. We love running into people we know when we are there and visiting new patients. We seek out our nurses and plan lunch and dinner with patients who are there. We don’t dread it or fret. Dave has really impressed me with his ability to not stress about it, despite taking Revlimid and having weekly infusions. He’s a real hero and he’s my hero.
I sent an email to a breast cancer survivor who struggles with this. Today is her Anniversary of finding her cancer. When I saw her yesterday she thanked me so much for sending her my email. That she really needed to change her way of thinking. I’m thinking of taking some champagne over to the Cinco de Mayo party. Here is what I whipped off very quickly and of course it could have been expanded on. You get the idea…
- They found my cancer! (So they could save my life)
- It’s another year of fantabulous survival with my children, family, and friends
- Because of this event, I started my beautiful Yarn Shoppe
- Because of this event, I learned to knit and now have LOADS of girlfriends.
- It is no longer defining my life, but an event in my life.
- Each day is a celebration but this day is a blowout party! WOOHOO!!!
- This is my anniversary date, and it allows me to be an inspiration for others who are traveling on this path. I give them hope and courage. I am a WARRIOR!
Love this one. Thank you so much.