Tag: cancer survivor

Waiting Out Hurricane Harvey

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ORIGINAL POST: 8/27/17
UPDATED: 8/30/17

My blog has been quiet these past few weeks. Why? Because I’ve been gallivanting around the southern United States having fun and enjoying summer.

Not only am I feeling great, but there are exciting developments in the recent cancer saga. I returned home from a fantastic two-week trip to New Orleans and Orange Beach, Alabama to discover my insurance covered the first round of PRRT. Hip Hip Hooray! And in even better news, last week’s blood work revealed a 75% tumor marker reduction. This wasn’t a surprise considering how I’m feeling and the significant reduction in my only symptom of facial flushing.

My husband and I decided to take advantage of our good luck and plan a weekend in Galveston Beach before my next scheduled therapy on August 31st.

“NOT SO FAST,” said the universe.

I received a call Thursday from a Coordinator at Excel Diagnostics giving me a heads up on potential therapy delays due to the approaching hurricane. I’m a little embarrassed to say this was the first I was hearing of the situation. See, I’ve been trying to shelter myself from the news because I don’t need any more stress.

But with this development, I tuned in and decided a trip to Galveston during a hurricane was pointless. Ever the planner, I quickly came up with a back-up vacation, which was to take our scheduled flight to Houston Saturday morning and drive to Dallas for the weekend. We held our breath as we headed to the airport with notifications alerting us that we were “On Time”, but 30 minutes before our departure, the flight was cancelled.

Not too worry. I had a Plan C. So, we rented a car in Nashville and are taking a little southern road trip. I’ve always wanted to visit Memphis, Little Rock and Dallas (said not many people).

Last night we stopped in Memphis, got a room at the Peabody and bounced around the lively city on a Saturday night. Today we drove to Little Rock  and visited the Clinton Presidential Library. Tomorrow the plan is to drive to Dallas for more visiting while watching the conditions from (not too) a far. Plan C included hopes that the situation would improve by Wednesday when I’m scheduled at the clinic.

NOT SO FAST…

I can rationalize with myself that worrying about things outside my control (ie, cancer and hurricanes) is a waste of time, but  I can not help but be selfishly stressed over the uncertain timing of my next therapy.

But the truth is that I/we am/are not powerless. We can pray. If you are not a prayer, just replace the word with send good vibes, thoughts, positive energy, etc. The people of Texas need our prayers, especially those in harm’s way and those who will experience medical emergencies. We need to pray for the people whose medical treatment and surgeries will be delayed because of this catastrophe, especially those who are critical. We need to pray for those who will not have the financial resources to recover from such an event. We need to pray for our government, rescue and medical workers who selflessly sacrifice themselves for others.

This has been (yet another) reminder how out of control we really are when it comes to nature and science. We all hold dual citizenship in sickness and health and in safety and harm no matter our color, religion, bank balance, location, gender, orientation and level of power.

So, after all of those prayers, if you have an extra I’d gratefully accept them as I watch and wait from Little Rock tonight and Dallas tomorrow.

***UPDATE: 8/30/17***
Seconds after we crossed the Arkansas-Texas state line, I received an email from Excel Diagnostics rescheduling my treatment to September 12. It was a relief and a disappointment. Still driving towards Dallas, we debated if we should continue and try to get a flight home or just turn the car around. After several failed attempts to call the overwhelmed airline for our options, we decided to drive. By taking turns every couple hours, podcasts, a book on tape and making calls to change our plans, the eight hour drive went surprisingly fast. Fortunately, we were given full refunds for all our reservations, so all we were really out is the time and effort.

My first therapy took a lot of coordinating and I felt good this one was going smooth until the hurricane hit. My heart breaks for those who are not strong enough, too sick and/or don’t know how to navigate this maze. I also feel guilty for complaining when there are people in Texas who’ve lost their homes, animals and loved ones. It will only take me a couple days to re-plan for my next therapy, but it will take some years to recover from this.

“We need each other, and we must care for one another.”
Bill Clinton, 1993 Inaugural Address

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Tonight’s beautiful sunset over Downtown Little Rock

The Anxiety Reduction Plan

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outlivingit

As featured on First Descent’s Out Living It blog

This blog was featured on First Descent’s Out Living It blog. First Descent’s is a non-profit that offers young adult cancer survivors (FREE) adventure trips where they learn the healing power of community and nature through participating in activities such as kayaking, rock climbing and surfing. In September 2016, I attended a First Descents Surf Program in Santa Cruz, California. Read about that here. If you’re interested in learning more about this wonderful organization, check out their website, https://firstdescents.org.

If you’re reading this, you don’t need me to tell you that cancer is a sneaky trickster. The disease invaded every corner of my life and just when I think I’ve got it figured out, it jumps up and grabs me from behind. It’s latest surprise – anxiety.

I was diagnosed three years ago. In retrospect, it’s pretty incredible anxiety only recently crept into the equation. For some reason, I thought I would get by unscathed by this common side effect of cancer.

My relationship with anxiety started one morning in March. I woke up to a missed call from my doctor’s office. It wasn’t even my oncologists office, but the mere presence of a doctor’s number in my call log triggered a misfire in my brain causing me paralyzing fear. I could not do anything the entire day but obsess about how I was going to suffer and die. Instead, I spent my waking hours crying, clenching every muscle and felt as if my lungs were closing in on themselves. The next day, I was fine.

A few weeks later, it happened again.

I often see articles suggesting anxiety victims to relax, exercise, meditate, get enough sleep, focus on the positive, etc. Admittedly, I might have even doled out some of this terrible advice myself in the past. After much thought, I realized the reason this is bad advice is because it’s not specific enough. Talking with my therapist, she explained that in the midst of anxiety, our brains do not function sufficiently where we can even come up with ideas to make ourselves feel better. She then urged me to create an Anxiety Reduction Plan consisting of specific activities I can execute when anxiety strikes. Here’s what I came up with for myself:

Go for a walk, run or to yoga
Call a friend to hang out
Memorize, write out and repeat to myself (I can now recite three Maya Angelou poems, the seven axioms of yoga teacher training and countless famous quotes)
Do a (yoga) forward fold (this pose has been proven to reduce anxiety)
Close my eyes and take 10 (or 100) deep breaths
Write a reminder message on my hand (“You’re okay,” is my go-to)
Write a list of 100 things I’m grateful for
Clean the fridge, floors, garage (I love organizing)
Go to a park with some markers and a coloring book
Send a card or gift to someone I’m thinking about
Do a random act of kindness
Paint something
Take a bath or shower (something about water and being clean makes me happy)
Create and execute a schedule (7-7:30 drink coffee and catch-up on news, 7:30-8 shower and get ready, 8-12 work, 12-1 lunch, etc., etc. Sometimes, I just go through the motions, but it’s better than obsessing all day)

Now, when I wake up and feel the walls closing in, I pull out my sheet of paper and start running down the list. As a disclaimer, I’ll admit that going through these motions does not always take away or reduce the anxiety, but for stretches of time I am redirected, which provides doses of solace.

As it turns out, my therapist and I are not on the brink of discovering a new physiological method. I recently listened to the Good Life Project podcast and later found a Ted Talk describing the approach the American Psychological Association calls, Positive Activity Interventions. Their studies also show being told or trained to “think positive” and/or confronting past trauma isn’t enough. Instead, their research revealed consistent simple actions, such as those listed above, not only make the miserable less miserable, but, over time, reinforce positive states of mind and improve levels of happiness.

So, what’s on your plan? Now, write it down, fold it up and put it in your wallet. Hopefully you’ll never have to use it.

Listen to The Good Life Project podcast: On Awe, Positive Actions, Anxiety and Depression

Read the full study, Upregulating the positive affect system in anxiety and depression: Outcomes of a positive activity intervention

Watch the Ted Talk, The New Era of Positive Psychology:

7 Yoga Truths for Cancer & Life

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Summertime will always put me in a reflective state. It seems to be my season of challenge, transition and transformation after being diagnosed with a Pancreatic Neuroendocrine Tumor in 2014.

This time last year, I was deep into my 30-day, 200 hour yoga teacher training “intensive”, which is the most accurate description of the experience. I have never pushed myself more physically, mentally, spiritually and emotionally. I cried therapeutic tears everyday and was surprised how much unresolved trauma I had stored in my body because of cancer. It was the best gift I have given myself and I graduated the program with so much more than a deeper understanding of the physical practice.

One of the many concepts that resonated with me during the 30 days was the Seven Axioms of Teacher Training. Over the last year, as I’ve continued to ride the rollercoaster of illness, these universal truths have been comforting reminders.

  1. You’re exactly where you’re suppose to be. This is a hard one to accept when an illness is involved. When I was sick, if someone said this to me, I probably would’ve punched them in the face, but now, I get it. I would give back cancer in a nano-second, but that means I would also have to give back the meaningful friendships I’ve created, the completion of the El Camino de Santiago, yoga teacher training, my career as a writer, my role at the FDA, my thirst for adventure, etcetera. All these wonderful things are a result of cancer. So, am I exactly where I’m suppose to be? Unfortunately and fortunately, yes.
  2. Fear and pain are life’s greatest teachers. Do I need to say anything more? I have learned so much from illness because it has brought on fear and pain I never realize existed and through that same fear and pain, I have learned how to live and not just exist. Cancer has taught me that I am so very strong, resilient and courageous, a word that makes me roll my eyes. I have been able to do things I never thought I’d be able to do because of cancer. For instance, before cancer I coward at the idea of needles. Now, I could give myself an injection while climbing a mountain at the same time. Cancer has also taught me deep compassion for my fellow humans. Others are often shocked when I tell them how the disease has impacted my life because I look like a normal, healthy, 37-year-old.  This is proof we never know what others have going on based on outward appearances and for that, I am kinder to people.
  3. Laughter and play are the fountains of youth. I find nothing fun about cancer. I often say it is the opposite of fun. But, I think within the non-fun, it is important to keep laughing and retain a childlike sense of play. In moments where it’s too hard to keep things light, call for backup. My husband is a major source of keeping me laughing and has succeed to make me smile in dark moments. When he’s not around, I watch YouTube and am surprised how much time I can spend watching puppy videos.
  4. Exercise and rest are the keys to vibrant health. We all know this, yet, so many of us ignore it. Before cancer, I exercised like crazy, at the expense of sleep. I believe, sleep deprivation was a contributing factor to my diagnosis. Now, I make sure I get at least eight hours and move my body every day. I wouldn’t describe myself as having vibrant health, but I would say I am more fit that the average person, which has been one of my secrets to managing a chronic illness.
  5. Touch and intimacy are basic human needs. We’ve all seen the study about babies who do not thrive when they are not touched and cuddled, yet, as we grow older, we assume that need dwindles. If you’re unwell, you should double-up the hugs and love.
  6. Everything is impermanent. For me, this is the most powerful axiom. It’s context is that everything is temporary. We all walk around with an illusion of control, which is not the case. When you look deeply, you will see that there are no guarantees. Health is temporary. Sickness is temporary. Happiness is temporary. Sadness is temporary. One of the reasons loss of anything is so hard to accept is because we do not expect change. We want our lives to continue on without any uncomfortable interruption. And when the interruption occurs, we are surprised and hurt. Accepting that everything is impermanent has given me great comfort. It has made the natural ups and downs easier to accept. And most important, it has taught me to live each day as if tomorrow is not guaranteed, because it is not.
  7. Everything is connected. I vividly remember the days and weeks after surgeries and chemotherapy concluded. I felt this euphoric connection to everyone and everything down to the core of my bones. Perhaps it was a high level of relief, trauma or PTSD, but I was so happy to be alive and enthralled with everything. I would go for a walk in my neighborhood and notice the tiniest, most beautiful things I never realized were there. I’d often come home with tears streaming down my face and my husband looking at me as if I’d lost my marbles. Everything seemed magical. While some of the feeling has faded, the memories remain evidence that we are all connected to everyone and everything whether we notice it or not.

Whether you are impacted by cancer, another illness or life challenge, I hope these axioms give you the same pause, solace and perspective they have for me.

Read all my articles with Cure.