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Monday, January 30, 2017

Life Imitating Art or Art Imitating Life

One of the ways, as I've mentioned in previous posts, is, I gain strength and maintain HOPE by keeping a list of quotes to refer to during my times of inner struggle. I am constantly adding to this list, when a quote resonates with me. It can be from anywhere - a FB post someone shares, a magazine, or even a tv show or movie.

I was watching an episode of "Chicago Fire" recently and two of the main characters struggling with something were advised by a friend:

"Something bad happens and we try to exert control but sometimes it is better to live with the pain for a little while, process it.  It can be a real blow.  There is no harm in admitting it"

Life imitating Art? or Art imitating Life?

It's the same exact advice I was given years ago by a counselor, who told me if I stopped burying my feelings by finding a substitute that allowed me to avoid processing what I was struggling with (the gym, food, etc) - I would come out stronger.

In writing about cancer, I described it as:

It's a tsunami or tidal wave. Sometimes it's forecasted based on previous events - Xrays, a catscan, an MRI. The suspense builds. When it hits, it completely envelopes you and your loved ones. What's the plan? How do we recover? How do you find and adjust to "the new normal" life has waiting for us? We MUST rebuild. 

Sometimes it's a false alarm.

A small normal sized wave that goes back out to sea...and we breathe.

For many years, I was too caught up in avoiding the wave. 
The more I buried my feelings, the more they hurt.

I eventually hit rock bottom, and worked my way out, and continue to work towards seeing the light at the end of that tunnel. 

On the flight recently, I received more inspiration while reading an article in "People" regarding Tim Tebow and the relationship he has with his Dad.

My parents know how I feel, because I constantly tell them I love them while I still have the opportunity. 

The article and the following quotes from Tim Tebow nailed exactly how I feel everyday.

It's been hard to reconcile with the strong -- seemingly invincible -- man who raised him. To see weakness and vulnerability in him, I just feel for him. I find myself being drastically protective of him. I think that's what family is for. They raise you, and then you get to a point where you have to take care of them. --Tim Tebow

"I look at my Dad and think 'I can do anything if I just set my mind to it'. I get that from my Dad." --Tim Tebow

"To be honest, none of us knows how much time we have left. Something could happen to any one of us. But this is a reminder that we need to make time to spend together." --Tim Tebow

"It was a reminder that we don't have an infinite amount of time on Earth with the people we love. Everything can end at any time, and I wanted to make the most of it." --Tim Tebow

Amen.

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Getting Rid of the Crutches

Albuquerque, Late 1997.

I broke my ankle at work sliding down a snow and ice covered curb on my left ankle.
After approximately 6 weeks in the cast, I returned to the Doctor to get the cast removed. Much to my surprised, it was removed with a power saw!

The cast fell off in 2 pieces and I looked at this stick of a leg where the muscles had atrophied due to non use. I hadn't been able to walk or otherwise put pressure on my leg, Including driving, well not legally anyhow. I drove once to the bank and when you're dominant right and attempting to drive with your left foot - well, let's just say I never tried that again. Once and Done.

At any rate, the cast was removed, and I had been walking on crutches for the entire 6 week period. The Doctor said to gradually wean myself off the crutches. Being obstinate, pig-headed and stubborn, I promptly got home, decided I had enough, and threw the crutches down outside the front door to force myself to walk without them.

I limped, but I made it.

Fast Forward to Early 2017, Almost 19 years later. 

I had enough of my cable company raising rates, and for a while, I haven't really sat in front of the tv and just flipped channels, or looked for something to watch, or even watched live - nearly everything was DVR'd and watched later.

So, I did something I never thought I would do - I got rid of the crutches again.

Disconnected the cable, Signed up for Netflix (which I already had) and added Hulu, and the Cable Crutch came crashing to the floor.

Its been two weeks now, and I haven't found one thing I'm missing by not having the cable
I can still keep up on the shows I really enjoy, and I re-discovered the joy of watching a DVD. Imagine that!  With 200 cable channels and a slew of things recorded "for a rainy day" - I just never watched movies anymore.

The lower bill is definitely an added bonus.

I've felt more peaceful and calm, mostly. More indulged by getting more time for myself, 
to think, compose and reflect. More positive. Less Negative.

It could just be a coincidence, but without the cable and watching as much TV, I've definitely felt more introspective and had more time to think and process things. Thus my 4th blog entry within a week (some haven't posted yet). I think I have a Muse.

I'm currently on the 4th day of a 6 week group on Facebook talking about my experiences and how cancer has affected me and my family. Revisiting and in some cases, discovering, long ago feelings is therapeutic, but difficult.

Perhaps I should eliminate more of the crutches in my life.
When you stop using the crutch, you can fly.


Monday, January 23, 2017

The Little Things

For years, I have read, and heard, and believed  "It's all about the little things"

This quote by Robert Brault  sums it up nicely:
"Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things"

Through years of trial and challenge, I try very hard to appreciate the little things.
The planner in me pays attention and takes mental notes of the little things.

The small things.

Like my Dad's way of cooking the latkes for Chanukah.

Or my Grandmother's way, which then became my Dad's, which has now been passed down to me,
of making eggs with onions on a weekend morning.

The little pancake things he makes out of bread crumbs and eggs that are leftover when we have baked chicken.

And also, thank G-d, for Discount Tire checking the air in the car's tires, since I'm challenged in that regard.

And on the reverse side, what is small to me, "nothing" or "no bother", i am
finding is more significant when it comes to my parents.
Items such as
--taking out the garbage
--changing a light bulb
--helping them get dressed or ready
--escorting them to a doctor
--doing the grocery shopping or running errands

During the writing workshop I attended and mentioned in a previous blog post,
the first thing we wrote about, as a warmup, was "jello":

"I'm sure there are people who love jello, but hearing as a kid it was made out of horse hooves just kind of killed the taste for me. However, I place sentimental value on pistachio jello because it's an ingredient used in a dish my Grandma would make, that my family still makes, that we affectionately call green glop."

I started out thinking "ugh, jello"...What on earth am I going to write because I don't really care for it almost as much as my hatred of nuts and peanut butter, but it was referred to as "the backdoor into my brain. Jello, a little thing to me, lead to a warm memory of my Grandmother on what would have been her 102nd Birthday.


The things that are little to us are big to others.


The things that are little to others can be huge to us.

Watching the Beaches remake as I write this, I am

doubly reminded not that only that it is about the little little things,
but about enjoying the time we share together on our own terms.

Make the most of a challenging situation by cherishing the time spent together, and realize it's all part of the journey.


My feelings were vindicated when I came across this FB post this morning from my Dad, who unknowingly echoed my own sentiments:

This past weekend was so good. Marion, Jeff and I spent the better part of 3 days together, enjoying each other's company, laughing, joking, watching various TV shows including the 2 blowout football games, running errands, fixing and eating dinner, I did not go near my computer all weekend which is a great accomplishment for me. Notwithstanding the rain, clouds and wind it was a great weekend.

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Life is a Series of Quotes

When life tosses me another curveball I'm not expecting, one of the ways I help deal with and manage the change is to maintain a list of quotes that express what I'm trying to deal with.

I'm constantly adding to this list, and I refer back to it often.
I think it's a way of helping me feel not so quite alone;
That I'm not alone in my struggle and challenge.
To help me persevere and overcome.

Below are some that I use frequently:

"With everything that has happened to you, you can either feel sorry for yourself or treat what has happened as a gift.  Everything is either an opportunity to grow or an obstacle to keep you from growing.  You get to choose"

"What I learned was it doesn't matter if you get knocked down in life, what matters is that you've got to get back up." - Ben Affleck"


"They reminded us that we can overcome any obstacle if we dig deep enough and fight hard enough and find the courage within ourselves" - Michelle Obama

Amen. The worst parts of my life have in hindsight, been my greatest lessons.

From a tv show:
They say ignorance is bliss because once you know, you can’t go back. Will you be strong or will you fall apart? It’s hard to predict so don’t worry about it. Enjoy the time you have before the news comes. Yep, ignorance is bliss. 

This has been a hard one, and one I still struggle with. Trying to avoid a black cloud from stopping me from enjoying the here and now, the beauty and the GIFT of today; of not knowing, yet.

Today, a friend posted:
I choose LOVE.
I choose JOY.
I choose PEACE.
I choose GRATEFUL.

My favorite quote from "Superman" and one that exemplifies the relationship between my Father and I, as it was also the relation between Kal-El and Jor-El.
Somewhere along the way, I've turned into the parent raising a couple of 70+ year old kids.

We will never leave you...
The richness of our lives shall be yours.
All that I have, all that I learned,
Everything that I feel... all this, and more,
I...I bequeath you, my son.
You will carry me inside you,
All the days of your life.
You will make my strength your own,
And see my life through your eyes,
As your life will be seen through mine.
The son becomes the Father,
And the Father, the Son.

Be grateful for every second of every day that you get to spend with the people you love. 
Life is so very precious.

My Father's signature quote, that he uses on his email and that I refer to for inspiration:
Cancer may have robbed me of that blissful ignorance that once led me to believe that tomorrow stretched forever.  In exchange I've been granted the wisdom to see each today as something special, a gift to be used wisely and fully.  Nothing can take that away.

My Father's email signature above has been a part of of his email for as long as I can remember, probably since he's ever had email. I've always read it and acknowledged it as something positive, but it took an event in my own life, along with finally accepting his 2nd Cancer diagnosis to recognize and live it: That today doesn't stretch forever, and tomorrow isn't guaranteed. I try, though I don't always succeed, to enjoy the here and the now instead of worrying about the tomorrow's and what could go wrongs.  Without cancer, without the lessons and hitting absolute rock bottom in my own life, I wouldn't be where I am now enjoying the privilege I get spend each day with my parents and other ones while the opportunity is available. 

Another piece of advice from one of my favorite authors, Mitch Albom:
Hope, no matter how buried, wants to find the light of day and rises from within us until it does.

This one helps me in my darkest moments, when I can't see hope, that even when I cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, it's still there, in some form. It exists, even if I can't see it yet.

Similarly, from Spider-Man:
No matter how buried it gets or how lost you feel, you must promise me that you will hold on to hope.

Truer words have never been spoken.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Telling Your Story

Today I attended a writing workshop regarding "telling your cancer story"

We learned how there are different approaches to use in your writing, and I relayed how I found out about the second cancer's diagnosis:

"I was visiting a friend in Vegas and reading some odd and cryptic status updates my Father was posting on FB.  I knew something was up,  and I texted and called to ask what was up, but Dad fibbed and said everything was fine. When my parents picked me up at the airport a day later, the bomb was dropped.  He had cancer. I cried. We all did. And I thought, here we go again. And then we will wait for the doctor. Why again? I then did some reading of my own and determined with my non medical degree, that he was symptomatic of B12 deficiency and that was pretending to be his MDS (Myelodysplastic Syndrome). I even went so far to look up a supplement that would increase his platelet count and bought it and convinced my Dad to take it because if I could get his platelets high enough, I could get the Dr to admit he was wrong"

The topics drifted to many aspects of having cancer in your life. To the question of "What has cancer taken from you?", I responded "freedom from life without cancer being involved"

I was 15 at the time of my Dad's initial cancer diagnosis, and a freshman in high school.
I was slightly nervous, but it was time.  With my Dad sitting next to me, I publicly admitted for the first time that I blocked out most of his first cancer journey as a way my 15 year old self exhibited self preservation and protected me, the only way it knew how. 
I recall the large milestones, but most of my feelings were buried.

I noted in a FB post (after this initial blog post)
Prior to my father's initial cancer diagnosis, cancer was never really in my vocabulary. It was always something "someone else had." I don't even remember it being mentioned in the realm of possibility, as to what was wrong. I knew my Dad was not feeling well and in a lot of pain, but that was the extent of it to me. He was diagnosed with diffuse non Hodgkins large cell lymphoma. There was no internet, no google, no way for me to look up as I do now when we hear a new medical term. So my Mother and I supported my Dad every way we could. After school every day, my Mom would pick me up and we went to the hospital to spend time together. We ate dinner, talked, and I did my homework as my Dad received his Chemo treatments. 
Although I knew nothing of his type of cancer, since then I'm especially in tune to others who receive the same diagnosis he did.


It was the 2nd cancer diagnosis was where I really felt it and it hit me.

I looked over at My Dad, and he was beaming, as he flashed me a smile.

One in the workshop said how her kids didn't want to be known as "the kid who's parent had cancer"... I could relate to that. I was terrified of people finding out.  Not really sure why. Because I would have to acknowledge it? Because I was unsure of myself and wanted to avoid something further to separate myself from my classmates and wanted to "blend in?" 

I'm 43 now. These are feelings I've buried for the better part of 28 years. Perhaps between this and future blog posts, I can finally address those and put this to rest.

Old habits die hard, because though we are involved in the Relay for Life of Chandler as a family, I still stay on the outskirts of being completely involved, at least in my eyes. 
Every day, week, month and year is a progression in the journey for me to acknowledge and accept, my Father's cancer as part of my journey and how it shapes my life.

I participate but I am still learning how to process and TO process, my feelings, when it comes to cancer.

My friend Jenn noted:
"That's a continual learning process. And it should be really"

For me, talking about it intimately means I have to acknowledge it.

I was afraid I would get upset today. 
I was hesitant to go. 
I went out of my comfort zone,  but I was so glad I did.

I have no problem expressing myself and my feelings, especially through the written word, but in a group settling where I have to say them in front of a group, oh no!

I learned, once again, I am never as alone as I think I am with what I feel.
The same things I worry or get upset over - so do others.

The workshop will be supplemented by a FB group, where more writing exercises will be completed. I look forward to this writing journey as a step in my personal progression.