Lessons in Friendship During Cancer

September 22, 2016January 26, 20171 Comment

As featured on curetoday.com

A cancer diagnosis is a life changing moment. Your body, mind, perspective, spirituality, quality of life, the amount of free time, work, finances, habits and relationships are all about to be shaken up. Change in any one of these categories is bound to bring discomfort to your existence, but all of them at once is beyond overwhelming. What keeps us from drowning in the sea of change is the people in our lives who come to the rescue – our friends and family.

If you’re a survivor reading this, I hope your experience was like mine. During treatment, I had droves of caring friends and family members who swooped in to bless my husband and me with meals; care packages; rides to appointments; and calls and messages to check in. Some of these angels were people I wasn’t even close to before cancer. Nothing is more touching than a person coming out of the woodwork to support you.

However, you might have also had the unfortunate experience of friends who dropped off the face of the Earth the moment cancer entered the picture. To these friends, I admit that it hurt when you didn’t reach out with a message, phone call or visit when I was having a hard time. It still hurts. I get it though. Cancer is so awkward. I’ve come to realize talking about cancer can make people very uncomfortable. Before my diagnosis, and even sometimes now, I don’t know how to respond when someone tells me they have or had cancer. It’s shocking and can throw even the most quick-thinking, eloquent person off their game. However, I’ve also come to realize that the silence was not about me, but about their discomfort.

And then there are the unexpected, new, bonus friendships built because of cancer, mainly consisting of other survivors, caregivers and medical staff. It’s a rare and special occurrence to know someone for a short period of time and be able to understand what they’re going through and have deep discussions about what really matters in life.

Every person who crosses our paths has something to teach us. From the friends who showed up to offer support, I learned to be grateful for their compassion and giving for when they will inevitably need help (hopefully minus cancer). From the silent friends, I learned how to forgive and to not be silent when others need our support. And, from the bonus friends, I learned that there are unexpected, wonderful gifts of cancer.

Read all of my articles with Cure here.

First Descents

September 14, 20161 Comment

Last week, I travelled to Northern California and spent the week having a blast with 15 other cancer survivors through an organization called First Descents (FD). I heard about FD through a fellow survivor who participated in their rock climbing program years ago and raved about the experience. The First Descents website is the best resource to describe their mission, but basically, they are an organization that takes young adult cancer survivors on (FREE) adventure trips, typically consisting of activities such as surfing, rock climbing, kayaking, etc.

I will be writing a couple of pieces about the week, but am still unpacking the experience. So, in the meantime, I’ll share two videos and their website. If you are a cancer survivor and have a love of the outdoors, I highly recommend checking them out. Good times and inspiring people are guaranteed!

http://firstdescents.org

And just last week the First Descents founder, Brad Ludden was named a CNN Hero. Watch here:

In Cancer, Choose Magic

September 6, 2016December 7, 2016Leave a comment

As featured on curetoday.com

As I drove home after a long day of yoga teacher training with the windows down and the sunroof open, I passed a lake. Behind the lake was one of the most glorious Michigan summer sunsets. In my previous life, I would have kept driving. Instead, I made an illegal left turn into a parking lot, got out of my car and sat on the grass at the water’s edge. Maybe it was too much yoga, but I was feeling so grateful that for the moment, my health, my life and everyone and everything in it. Life was pretty darn magical in that moment.

And then, I almost let three little dots take it all away.

It was just two weeks after the post-yoga, magical sunset when I found myself at the hospital for my routine bloodwork, MRI and CT scan. All survivors know the time between these exams and the day of results can be tortuous. It’s as if time stands still and thoughts of imminent mortality are mixed with the contrast fluid that technicians pump through your body.

Two of these dots are in my lungs, an area that was never scanned before, but my specialist suggested we image them just to be thorough. My local oncologist said, “In a normal person, I would think nothing of them.” Gee, thanks. She explained that she was not too concerned, but we should check them again in a few months, since we’ve decided to be thorough and all.

But the other dot was on my liver and most definitely not there before. This one was more concerning, but the radiologist indicated it was not diagnostic for a recurrence since it didn’t look like typical cancer cells. It could be blood vessels, contrast fluid build-up, nothing or something. My doctor suggested that we wait a week for the blood tumor marker results, which have been one of the best historical indicators for me. Ugh, more tortuous waiting.

My feelings bounced from thunderstruck to anger to not caring for the rest of the day. When I woke up the following morning rested and clear-minded, I knew I had to make a choice. I could choose fear, stress and anxiety or I could choose magic.

I spent the next few days continuing to feel amazing and stronger than I have for years. I went to yoga. I reminded myself that worry is only harmful. I stayed present in the moment and told myself, “Right now, you’re great,” as much as I needed too. I meditated everyday. I ate well. I went to bed early. I enjoyed my life. I spent time with my husband. I played fetch with the dog. I surrounded myself with Tiggers. Basically, I chose magic. Finally it was the the day I knew the results would be ready on the patient portal. I logged in, closed my eyes, took a few breaths and opened them to see that the tumor marker blood results were normal. The next day, my doctor called to tell me the news I already knew. She suggested waiting three months and scanning again. I followed up with my specialist, who concurred with this and felt cautiously optimistic. While a recurrence is still a possibility, it’s always a possibility, and if that day comes, I’ve decided, I will choose magic.

Read on www.curetoday.com: In Cancer, Chose Magic