Posts Tagged ‘cancer-twice’
When I was young (I was going to write younger, but that is not accurate), life was full of drama. It seemed like one traumatic event right after another and some overlapping to keep me in a state of stress and frustration. I always felt like everything around me controlled me and I controlled very little (except maybe what was on the menu for the next meal and not even that very often was under my control.)Finances were out of control. My jobs were draining, never paying enough, and they kept me away from home too much. There was no such thing as free time or time for myself. Such is the life of a parent and more so for a single parent. The responsibility to do it all ‘right’ was overwhelming for all those years.
To those of the next generation who understand what I am saying, take notice! It actually does pass. You miss the joyful parts of those years after they are gone, but you finally get to stop and smell the flowers. It takes a long time to think of yourself first, but it eventually happens. I actually felt guilty If I ‘wasted time’ reading a book when I should have been doing something else like worrying about all the ‘what ifs’ when I was young.
For some reason (not sure why), I always put my job too high on the list of important things. I did my best and brought the rest home to think about after hours. I was still doing this until my second bout of cancer over a year ago. A health crisis really makes you come to a halt and examine the quality of your life. Best test – ask yourself this: “If I was to die today, would I be happy with where I am right now in my life?” The answer helps to put some things in perspective.
I currently work with an awesome team of women who are dedicated and passionate but work way too hard and way too much. I watch people putting their work ahead of their families and know I did that myself when my boys were growing up. I wonder why we do this.
This week, we lost a staff member who was laid off due to budget constraints. It was a shock. She worked hard and will be missed. Our team dynamic will not be the same. It made me very sad when I found out, but she will move on and so will our work team.
For me, it confirmed what I have been feeling rather strongly for the last year. A person is not their job. Your job is not your life. Your job should not define you.
When my sons were pre-teens I went to a teachers’ convention, and in one session we were asked to write down 10 things we did for fun. I sat there, looking at my blank paper and feeling a sense of guilt. I finally asked for a clarification. “What do you mean?” I queried. The presenter replied, “Things you do in your spare time for fun, just for you.” I was devastated. There was not one thing I could think of. My days consisted of working long hours, coming home to cook, clean, chauffer, etc. etc. and fall into bed exhausted, only to begin again the next day. Weekends were catch-up for laundry, shopping, marking school work…
Even though this was hard to accept, there was nothing I could do about it. My circumstances controlled my life. When the boys all left home, I had an identity crisis. I could not figure out who I was. I was not a mother if they were grown and did not rely on me, and when I took early retirement from teaching, I was not a teacher anymore, but who was I? What was I? I struggled with that for a long time.
Now that I am old, and I say this ‘old’ word with great satisfaction, I realize that like all women, I am one with many hats. I have juggled hats since I turned 20 and got married at such a young age. Now I realize I do not have to wear a name tag and do not have to keep the same hat on.
Now that I am old, I can proclaim that my current job is awesome – totally satisfying, challenging and often overwhelming, but it is not who I am.
Now that I am old, I can decide to say ‘yes’ to requests and also say ‘no’ with only a bit of guilt when I am tired and need time to myself.
I live in ‘the home’ and it is lovely and serene. Each day I come home, turn the key in the lock, walk in, survey my oasis and thank God for my blessings. Each and every day since I moved in here I have been doing that.
When I have a week at work that knocks the stuffing out of me, I take a day of my weekend and stay in my jammies. I nap, read, knit, cook a little, watch a little “Big Bang Theory” and nap again. After 24 hours I feel rested, de-stressed and ready to tackle a few home chores. Or not.
Now that I am old, it is all about me. I am working on giving myself some nice things like massages and manicures. At least I think about it. I haven’t quite got there yet, but I am getting closer.
Life in the home continues, thank goodness. The ‘what ifs’ down the road do not matter at the moment. My contentment lies within each day, feeling grateful and keeping things in perspective.
There are lots of things I could worry about, but if I could get all the time back that I worried about things that never happened in my youth, it would amount to years. I know that does not mean that life is never going to throw another curve ball my way or bring pain and sorrow. There will be more valleys and more mountain tops. My goal is to stay in the now and be grateful for whatever comes my way.
I am old, but I still have dreams and plans for when I retire in a year and a half. I have learned that my plans may fly out the window and my dreams may disappear because of life’s curve balls, but I will not worry about that now.
Right now, I am old and content. My life is what I make it. I expect tomorrow to be a good day and if it is not so much, then I will rejoice at its’ end and look forward to the day after.
And there is always Bailey’s and ice. In a tall glass.
Back with the living. . .
Posted on: November 18, 2010
The surgeon was talking statistics today and asked how old I was. Whenever I say my age out loud, it always surprises me and seems such a strange number. How can I be that old? I am almost a senior citizen, but inside this battle-scarred body I am only 20 and know everything and want everything and think I have a long time ahead to make mistakes and change maps.
He said something about 20 years and explained that the surgery was good and I do not need follow-up radiation. I do not even have to come back to see him as I can now go under the care of the endocrinologist to monitor my thyroid medication and calcium levels. He shakes my hand and smiles and sends me on my way, after a quick snip and a pull to remove stitches. His staff is surprised when I tell her I do not need a follow-up appointment with him. She prints out all the test results to fax to the endocrinologist and when I ask if I can take them to him she says yes. I come home with several pages of facts about my thyroid which is no longer mine but has been cut up and examined and theorized and ended up in the place where bad body parts end up.
This was my 11th surgery. Most of the cut-ups over the years were to remove body parts, some to repair and three C sections to remove babies who are now incredible adults forging their own paths through life.
This one was after several months of tests and painful biopsies and chronic insomnia, face twitches and emotional rollercoaster rides for what seemed like forever. During this time, I was hard to be around. It was stressful for family, friends and coworkers as I twitched and teared up and yawned and ranted. I was more self-absorbed than usual. I was even tired of being around myself so felt sorry for others too.
Last week I finally had the surgery. My eldest son drove me to the hospital, stayed with me for hours before and hours after, soothing me and making me laugh and keeping my ship pointed in the right direction. Today he asked if he could go in with me to see the surgeon. I appreciated that, especially when the news was all good. Instantly all good. After all those months.
Last week while I waited on the bed after they wheeled me to the hallway outside the operating room, I was surprised at how calm I felt. It was not like the previous surgeries, where I was nervous. They did not put in an IV with sedation meds before the surgery like previous times. I was not drowsy and wanting to be under and done. This time was different. I thought about it this morning when I was driving in a snow storm to go to a clinic for blood work at 6:45 am.
I thought about how we go through our lives and the people in them come and go and change is constant. This morning driving in the storm I realized that people change and come and go and surprise you and let you down and you let them down and it goes on and on like that over your life time. There is one constant and only one. The saying about how we enter this world alone and leave it alone is true, except we are not totally alone.
I have had a companion beside me for as long as I can remember. This higher power or spirit entity that is bigger than humans can imagine is God the Father, our Creator. I have felt His presence since I was a young girl. Religions describe Him and categorize Him and have compartmentalized Him, but I just know Him. He is always there. I sometimes move away from Him, but He never moves away from me. He is always there. He walks with me and I feel His presence during the lowest of times and during the most glorious of times. I cry out to Him in frustration and pain and sometimes I just become quiet and sit with Him.
I was calm waiting for surgery because I knew that He had things handled. There were people praying for me and it did not matter whether I stressed or ranted or worried because He was in charge and knew the outcome. He knows the desires of my heart. They are simple and include being around to watch my grandchildren grow up. I think He is giving me the desires of my heart. If it was my time to leave this world, He would give me strength to deal with that and accept it too.
I am not religious. I do not have much faith in organized religions. They are man-made and involve politics and set rules and conflict with each other in many ways. They often condemn and judge. My God is pure love and is constant. He has walked beside me all these years so that I have never been alone.
For months I have had insomnia due to a thyroid covered with cancer lumpies that was not functioning. I drank soothing teas and read books and paced the room and watched movies all night long and dragged myself into work everyday.
Today I was released from it. My family and close friends have put up with me and stood beside me and my constant companion has held me up and carried me through it all. Tonight I will sleep like the dead, because I am now back with the living.
My car is in great shape. Last weekend I got the oil changed, cleaned it totally inside and out and now it is happy. I wish I could do the same for me.
I need a total body transplant! After living for six decades, I am bruised and battered, have battle scars everywhere with surgery scars in between. Gravity has not been my friend. I have a steel plate in one ankle, am missing several interior body parts from removals, have a current foot injury from walking that requires prescription NSAIDs and am a cancer survivor – 2 years.
I go for my post-cancer check up in two weeks. I had to have chest x-rays and blood work done before hand. The problem is I have a new problem that is now into overlap. I have hyperthyroidism and have had scans, nuclear tests, blood work and biopsies. When they ask, “Which arm?” when I go for blood tests, I have to check to see which one was just abused recently and suggest the alternate. Ha! Ha!
So, in two weeks, I find out if I am still cancer – free from the first location. I usually hold my breath when the doctor starts to tell me test results. This time, not so much. Turns out I have cancer again, in my thyroid.
When diagnosed the first time, the doctor said it was the ‘good’ cancer with a high rate of survival. Yes! Well, this time it is in my thyroid – lots of little lumpies – and this specialist says it is the ‘good’ cancer with high rate of survival. I guess I should be happy that I keep getting the ‘good’ kinds of cancer.
Statistics say that one out of every three people gets cancer. If I have it twice, am I saving someone else? I wish that was true, then it would be okay with me.
Since I do not have a choice, I will suck it up and get on with it. Venting is good and now I have vented, not to have people feel sorry for me because so many have it way worse than I do, but to help me process the situation and move on.
I found a video the other day of a young man in Australia who was born without arms or legs. He only has a short flipper at the base of his torso. It is a shock when you first see him, but then he starts to talk and you see his soul instead of what is missing in limbs. He is a beautiful human being whose role in life is to inspire others. He speaks to school children and the tears run down their faces when he tells them they are beautiful and that they can do anything they want to do. He plays golf and swims and jokes about not being ready when he misses the volleyball.
Every story has an upside. I am relieved that this round of surgery and recovery is happening while I am employed with benefits. Last time I was self-employed with no benefits and it was worrisome covering expenses. Also, I will have to have recovery time off work. That means taking my beat up body to my church in Bellevue and spending time with books, art materials, music, my pink socks and warm house coat. I will have sunshine and mountain air. I wont have deadlines and alarm clocks and cold basements. I also wont have a thyroid full of lumpies that are malignant. Win-Win!
AND – I will always have Paris!
IntrepidWoman's Journey 