Not the End of the World

Eek! I’m so excited – I put an obsessive amount of time and emotional energy into this essay.

 

 

This was published in Vanderbilt University Medical Center’s Momentum Magazine and tells the story of my four year journey to and on the Camino de Santiago.

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Kevin & I at the end of the world

I went to the Camino with a map and a plan to walk alone, but the universe conspired for something better. That something better goes by the name of Kevin Keystone. So, I’ll dedicate this to him and the universe for bringing me the medicine I needed most. My thank yous will be forever immeasurable.

Not the End of the World

To watch Kevin’s take on our voyage together, check out this YouTube video.

One Year of Hair After Cancer

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As featured on curetoday.com

August marked one year since I shaved my head just two weeks after my first round of chemotherapy. I knew the hair loss was coming and decided ahead of time to shave at the first signs of clumps on my pillow. As I wrote in Waiting for Hair: The Toll of Chemotherapy, “Losing my hair wasn’t hard – waiting for it to grow back has been the most challenging.” I still stand by this statement.

When treatment ended, I became obsessed with taking a daily photo so I could see the progress. A watched pot never boils; this saying applies to hair growth, too. It seemed the day I stopped taking regular photos, it started growing like a weed.

Another daily task was scouring Pinterest for secret solutions. I put castor and peppermint oils in my shampoo. I massaged my head to wake up the hair growth follicles. I took biotin. The result: a freakish amount of blond hair on my earlobes that was never there before. Once a friend commented on my unusual amount of ear hair, I stopped and deleted this Pinterest board.

I’m happy to be past the point where unusually short hair prompts a conversation. I loved when other survivors approached me with their words of wisdom and encouragement, but there were also those who opened their mouths without thinking. For instance, there was the TSA official who asked, “What did you cut your hair for?”

With a sarcastic smile, I replied, “It wasn’t voluntary.”

I’m not sure he ever got it, but I questioned his intelligence for commenting on a woman’s hair in the first place.

I shared this story with a fellow survivor who advised me to respond to this question by saying, “I survived cancer!” This prompts celebration and not pity or surprise or embarrassment for asking. Great advice.

After about two months of growth, I looked in the mirror and saw a mullet staring back at me. Initially, I planned to tough it out as I grew it out. My philosophy was, why would I cut off perfectly good hair? However, the mullet lead to a change in strategy. If my hair was going to be short, it might as well be cute and short. Now I go for haircuts every month and only during the last week do I look like Joe Dirt.

For a while, I threatened my husband to dye it purple or pink or that wonderful grey that is so in style. I was in the, “I just survived cancer and I’ll do as I darn well please,” phase. But the reality is, I’m too chicken, which I find funny considering a year ago I was walking around with a bald head and couldn’t care less. Oh, how cancer changes perspectives constantly.

Whenever I’m frustrated with the current status of my hair, I stop myself and say a prayer of gratitude that I have any hair at all, because not so long ago I didn’t. I also think about those in the place where I was a year ago. Like everything in life and in cancer, it is a journey. And as the saying goes, it’s the journey and not the destination.

However, my next destination might be extensions. Stay tuned.

Read this on curetoday.com: One Year of Hair After Cancer

Read all my articles with Cure.

And here’s a photo summary of my hair re-growth:

Living Universal Truths on My Cancerversary

 

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2014: Me & the “excited” med students

Yesterday, September 1st was my cancerversary.

In 2014 a parade of doctors came in and out of my hospital room using the word, excited, because of the 1 in 10 million diagnosis.  An intern asked if she could use my case as a homework project.  Looking back, it’s pretty fucked up to be doing to someone who was just diagnosed with cancer.

 

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2015: Post swim

September 1, 2015, was a blur along with the previous few months.  I was really sick, but it was my cancerversary and I forced myself to go to the gym for the first time in months to swim for 20 minutes. On the way to the gym and on the way home, I had to pull over to throw up. Also, fucked up.

And here we are  – September 1st of sweet 2016. This year has probably been the most rewarding ones ever and I’m fascinated how different life can be in 365 days, evidence that everything is impermanent.

 

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Perhaps, I am stronger than I think. Thomas Merton

Yesterday, I woke up and for a few minutes I didn’t remember.  I laid in bed, playing on my phone. I checked Facebook and saw my yoga teacher, Tommy, posted a picture of the quote I gave him on our last day of teacher training, with a caption, Perhaps, I am stronger than I think.  He had no idea of the day’s significance.  Everything is connected.

I decided to spend the day contemplating and living the seven universal truths, a concept that really resonated with me during training. A universal truth or axiom is something that is true no matter the time, space or situation.

As I got ready, I blasted, Starlight by Muse and danced around and sang to my dog, Bear. He already knows I’m crazy and he was not amused.  His disinterest only made me laugh, which, I know, deep down, makes him happy.  Laughter and play are the fountains of youth.

Unfortunately, yesterday was the day I had to get my monthly check-up at the hospital. Fortunately, I got one of my favorite nurses, who is Canadian and loves to talk with me in French.  We caught up and completely out of the blue, she asked me if I meditate, which prompted a conversation about the inner capacity for healing, a concept not generally accepted by the western medical community. A coincidence?  No, it’s all connected.  After our long discussion, she gave me my monthly injection of Lanreotide, the $16,000 medication that keeps me healthy.  Can we all just take a moment and be grateful for health insurance?

I finished at the hospital early, which never happens, so I walked down to Jeni’s Ice Cream.  This was the place I went after nearly every chemo treatment because I was obsessed with anything and everything cold. Coincidently (or totally not), my 2nd cousin was working behind the counter. Last August I met her for dinner after a chemo treatment with my freshly shaved head and haven’t seen her since. I repeat, everything is connected.

Exercise and rest are the keys to vibrant health. From Jeni’s, I walked over to the yoga studio for a 75-minute class and coincidently ran into another person who impacted my journey over the past two years. It was Liz, who I was introduced to by a mutual friend and met for coffee last June.  She was the one who told me I should go to the Center for Yoga to do my yoga teacher training. I have not seen her since then and loved how the universe plopped her in my path on today of all days giving me the chance to thank her and chat about possible opportunities for teaching.

As I walked back, I thought about how cool it was to run into these people today.  I was exactly where I was supposed to be today and for the last two years – a hard concept to accept. However, I know this axiom to be true due to the steady stream of opportunities that come my way because of cancer.  A few examples: I’m living my dream of being a writer. I’ve met several people who inspire me through having overcome their own challenges with cancer, mental illness and addiction. I performed at the Bluebird Cafe. I finished the Camino. I graduated yoga teacher training and will start teaching next month.  Heck, just this week, I was approached with an opportunity to share my experience to aid in bringing new drugs and treatments to neuroendocrine cancer patients in the United States. All of this would have never happened if cancer did not enter my life. So, am I exactly where I’m suppose to be? Yes, I think so.

I arrived home to find my favorite person. The one who held my hand through it all and whose positivity never, ever wavers.  We did what we do every evening – greet each other with hugs and kisses and snuggle on the couch as we talk about our days.  Touch and intimacy are basic human needs.

As September 1st drew to a close on the 2 year anniversary of the scariest day of my life, I laid in bed thinking about the most powerful universal truth for me. Fear and pain are life’s greatest teachers. It’s hard to say I’m grateful for cancer, but I am so grateful for the innumerable lessons cancer has taught me, many of which revealed themselves in moments of fear and pain. I’ll share the most important one – All we have is the moment we are in right now. The present. None of us are guaranteed the future.  And yesterday I didn’t spend my time worrying about the future. I just enjoyed and was grateful for the day and the angels who resurfaced to bring life full circle and reminded me that over the last two years I’ve learned, I am stronger than I thought.

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My 1st head stand. I used the wall to get up, but, as you’ll see in the mirror, the rest is all me.

 

The Seven Universal Truths:
1. You are exactly where you’re supposed to be.
2. Fear and pain are life’s greatest teachers.
3. Laughter and play are the fountains of youth.
4. Exercise and rest are the keys to vibrant health.
5. Touch and intimacy are basic human needs.
6. Everything is impermanent.
7. Everything is connected.
Bonus truth: You are stronger than you think.