LIFE Sentence

Today I'm thinking of and sending my best wishes to a good friend who was just diagnosed with a non-invasive breast cancer.

The first week after diagnosis can be a scary time where uncertainty rules and fear runs rampant. It seems nothing prepares you for this crisis. When they say, "cancer" you think "death sentence." But, that's just the fear talking and fear is crazy. Don't listen to it!

Another thing I'd like to get off my chest is all of these darned daytime TV doctor shows that barrage us with disease prevention ideas, almost lead us to believe that, "if you eat your broccoli, you'll never get a scary diagnosis." None of these shows prepares us for that moment. Very few offer advice or information that benefits us when we are the next recipient of a breast cancer diagnosis (or any other health crisis).

It's a scared shitless minutes-long eternity.

My oncologist told me that it's extremely important to receive treatment from a health care team. Notice I said TEAM. This team is made up of oncologist (she/he directs your care), oncology surgeon, plastic surgeon and radiology oncologist---and they all talk to each other. Then it's important to check what the big hospitals are doing (Dana Farber; M.D. Anderson) via their websites (and ask your oncologist). The place where I received great treatment is a sort of "sister" to Dana Farber and works like a university hospital. Specific breast cancer treatment information is available at Dana Farber's website:
http://www.dana-farber.org/pat/adult/breast-cancer/

It's next to impossible to think rationally during the first week after diagnosis. It's best to surround yourself with your favorite people and animals (if applicable), those who love you most, and be kind to yourself. Be your own best friend! Then know that there is a first class medical team out there committed and ready to give you great care and a cure!

One final note, I'm sharing my experience. I'm not a doc. Share any of this information with your physician. Go to the NCCS website listed on my blog and get your Cancer Survivor's Toolbox! Advocate for what's best for you! And enjoy your LIFE sentence!

White Caps

So, I'm in my kayak and it's a sunny day, but suddenly, an unexpected rain comes. White caps form on the water. I must concentrate to stay afloat, unable to look up, putting all my energy into moving through this unsettling moment in my life, hoping to staying upright.
My uncle passed away. One night he went to sleep and slipped into that state of peaceful grace. As a child, he was my favorite grown up. His quirky sense of humor, wise counsel, his love and care, I will miss. He's on another journey now, walking on that old road that leads us back to love's essence.
But the sun returned and shone brilliantly as I traveled to my daughter's university graduation. She's a very bright young lady who will pursue her passion: studying marine life. My family spent a weekend basking in the warm yellow light of her honorable achievement.
A few days later, choppy water. Unpredictable skies. A storm of my own making. My semi-annual check up. Is the cancer still gone? I worried. I allowed fear into my psyche. For a little while, I stopped believing in my oncologist's strong reach for "cure," in my surgeon's skill, my radiology oncologist's razor sharp accuracy, my family and friends' prayers and a benevolent god. I was scared shitless.
Why is it so hard to believe in the possibility that everything is alright? Or maybe that everything is as it should be?
In her article, "Slipping Past Borders," (Oprah mag, June 2010) Katherine Russell Rich writes, "When you're swamped with fear, ask yourself: How are you right now?" When uncertainty threatens she says the answer is, "Fine. Stay right here, in this day, stay right here in your mind."
By the time I got to my appointment, I'd already begun to feel lighter. Apparently my own mantra, "good things can happen," had a sinking in affect in spite of my conscious disbelief.
Good things happened. The sun is back. I'm snug and dry, kayaking this river, my journey, able to look up, way up, enjoying mountain peaks on the horizon.
(photo by photographer Nelu Goia, Canada, can be seen at www.trekearth.com).