Small Wonder

Here is Sara, draped in rosy velvet, wielding the powers of a child's imagination and goodness.

Here is Athena, Greek warrior and goddess, celebrating her victory after battling the great dragon, having hurled its twisted, broken body back to the heavens.

Isn't she lovely?

See the proud dust on her silver and pink sneakers, those steadfast feet that journeyed through darkness, but now walk in the light. I want to bow down on one knee as she passes, this vision of satin and sparkle, strength and valor. Oh, the wisdom of children!

This picture and inspiration is available online at LIVESTRONG's Facebook page. LIVESTRONG, Lance Armstrong's organization, supports and nourishes individuals and families challenged by cancer. Link to LIVESTRONG can be found here under "links."

Cancer: Not a Cure for Anxiety

I spend a lot of time fretting over life's challenges in a non-Zen-like manner, much like I used to do before I heard my cancer diagnosis. I had hoped that I had risen above this madness, that my cancer battle's victory gave me wings to fly over the lowly stresses in life.

In short, I'm having a bad day. But, as a cancer survivor, I know the value of each day and I don't want to waste one. I feel guilty.

Illness reminds us that we are mortal (not winged) beings, here on this green earth for a short time. Cancer threatens to make that short time even shorter.

So why not just kick back and smell the spring flowers?

Well, the damned spring flowers have not yet sprung here in cold country.

There is an expectation that, once having fought the breast cancer battle, women come out stronger than ever, invincible to stress. Priorities are clear, things are not blown out of proportion. Cancer, like a calm lens, keeps our focus.

Nope.

It's the journey, not the disease that brings forth these subtle transformations. The gains and losses made along the way teach us that we are stronger than we know.

I'll go for a walk and read a book, good things that make me happy and make this day count.

Vanity Insanity

Fresh from the Huffington Post's Style section, the newest form of humiliation for American women: La Decollette Cleavage Wrinkle-Prevention Bra.

According to the Huff Post, this product is described:

"At night, La Decollette will do her job very effectively.Because of this special bra, your breasts are more or less forced to stay in place so no vertical wrinkles will occur and your cleavage will stay smooth. After just 1 night you will see the difference and after 5 to 7 nights you will be amazed by the stunning result."

I'm stunned and amazed that 34% of readers voted it "a must buy." It looks like someone put their underwear over their head.

So 34% of Huff's readers would pay $70 for this odd form of night torture softened by two petite bows in the name of vanity?

Can this 34% just get a grip for a moment?

Aren't you tired of conforming to the padded and pushed up, molded and underwired expectations of our rack-obsessed culture? Shall we stand in front of the mirror contemplating the vertical wrinkles in our cleavage or should we contribute our intelligence, our fire and energy to the world? We are worth so much more.

New Tricks

Recently, I began a process, searching to find passionate pursuits, choosing life affirming things, in short, embracing my inner geek. And since

Geek-dom is now, apparently, cool

I can admit that I'm a book worm, I keep a journal and I like "Glee."

I started taking piano lessons, picking up from where I'd left off some never-mind-how-many years ago. Adding this to my life was a daunting task. First, I did not own a piano and convincing myself to spend the money to purchase one was a back-and-forth process fraught with self-doubt. What if this is a passing phase? What if the piano becomes a large dust catcher, it's keys cobwebbed to one another, a five-hundred-pound money pit? But what if I could learn to play again, play better than ever before?

Something about the word "play" lingered in my mind like a promise.

It's learning to listen and trust these inner stirrings that makes for a well-lived life.

I found a brilliant teacher. I found a piano that sings. I found my passion for music.

A whole new world opened for me. I've traded listening to repetitive "classic rock" for classical music, symphonies, introductions to composer's lives, different music genres, each a gem, an interesting continent worth exploring.

We're never too old to learn new things. Learning connects us to that childlike wonder that is tucked inside us, always at the ready.

My grandma used to tell me that learning new things keeps us young. And she's right.

Importance of Negative Space

The last few months of no blog postings exist in my mind as "negative space." There's content in the void. Much of the invisible discourse could be filed under "I don't want to talk." Introspection maybe.

I've been cancer free for a year. Every six months, I dance on the head of a pin, waiting for blood test results, tumor marker indications, CT scan results. Cancer check ups are difficult for most survivors. Our freedom, physical independence, future on the planet is either validated or threatened.

There's nothing like the validation of a CT scan. Throw away your crystal ball! The results are crystal clear.

Whew! Great sigh of relief!

Back home, I wake up. Instead of hitting the snooze, I move! There's a reason why I'm still here and I'd better get at it. There's a quiet joy to waking up early, writing before the day is fully lit. It's a sense of purpose. It's making conscious choices to spend my precious time doing life affirming things, living my life to its farthest flung edge!

Well, here's a gorgeous Saturday, a sunshine-filled rodeo day and yet my world is clouded by my recurring "it's a crap shoot" thought: 86% chance of survival over five years.
Sometimes I get hung up on this and, rational or irrational, the thought stays put. It's a counter-productive, energy sapping mood swinging thought that still has too much power in my life.
Somehow, I've got to beat that thought.
Sometimes the post-breast cancer pressure to be happy is overwhelming. Most of the pressure is self-created, partially due to that 86% survival thing.
Maybe it's the Tamoxifen, that jagged little pill I take every day to ward off a recurrence. It's a hormone swinging, banana peel transition to Menopause, a mature woman's condition with side effects that no one really gives a shit about unless you have them.
Oh, was that too cranky?
Now I know that all of this whining makes me seem I'm ungrateful for the miracles my medical team and oncologists everywhere perform every day to take women like me from fighting for our lives to living our lives out loud. Believe me, I'm grateful.
And, in honor of all of us who are fighting this dreaded disease, I will get out there in the sunshine and enjoy this beautiful day.
I'm just sayin' it "ain't" easy.

Energy

I want to change up the subject a bit, to talk about healing, that thing people call, "survivorship."
Survivorship is the journey.
We're all survivors of something, maybe several things. I was a survivor before I turned pink. Resilience is key to survival.
My friend Barbara survives breast cancer since the 1970's. She said, "Rather than asking "why me?" I ask, "why not me?""
None of us are immune from crisis. The crisis comes to test or teach.
I joined a Jazzercise group, a choreographed exercise and now I'm dancing my way to fitness. It challenges my post-treatment body. Still, I'm determined to heal fully, to gain fitness. Bonus--I'm making new friends.
Yoga is an important part of my personal plan for healing. It provides a meditative space, strength training and a good stretch.
Too much time spent in silence isn't a good experience for me, rather, I find I prefer the Jazzercise classes with its pounding rhythms, musical talk and laughter.
All of these activities demand energy, something I'm still building. I guess after almost a year of treatment with little physical activity, rebuilding strength and stamina takes time, determination and patience.
Patience is a virtue but I hear the clock ticking. I don't want to miss anything!
I've talked with a other cancer survivors and they agree, once touched by cancer, there's a footprint on your ass to live your life, every day, each moment. My friend Tammy says she feels like she has to "do it all" right now.
I'm still writing my list, deciding where I want to go, what to see, not wanting to overlook anything and doing the physical work to make sure that, should I be lucky enough to do some more traveling, I'll have the stamina to enjoy it.
Stay well!