New Year 2013, New Horizons

New Horizons

 

I spent the first day of the new year with P.  She said "getting cancer is like a perverse slap in the face to wake up to your own life".  One can a diagnosis of cancer, go through the treatments, and choose to not change one thing about your life and hope for the best.  OR...one can see it as a wake up call to reflect on how you might find a better balance of lifestyle to strengthen your immune system and cultivate your passions. 

We gave ourselves the gift of time to just be. No agenda.  The low sun rays were streaming through the windows as the sky changed colors and the sun got closer to the Golden Gate Bridge.  As the sun began to blind us, we stood in front of the window and raised our arms, opened our hearts to the breath of life and asked the ancestors for a low Oncotype DX score so P can skip chemotherapy.  If you don't ask, how will they know what you need?  

Mountain Countenance

I went with my friend to the oncologist to hear what the pathology report said after her lumpectomy.  It was a different experience to be the support person and not the patient, and I was overwhelmed with how grateful I am that I have family and friends to support me. It was a gift to go with her and offer my ears and understanding.  As we were sitting across from the Dr with his desk piled high with important papers and his walls covered with art from patients and his own photographs, I remembered how hard it was to wrap my head around the many scenarios of "IF this Then...." or "If this Then....".  Whether to have a second surgery to get clean margins or to have a mastectomy and remove the habitat.  He said more information is needed so he will send her tumor sample for the Onkatype DX test.  This expensive test compares your tumor markers with a data base of others to give you a risk score from 1-100 and  can help you decide whether you will choose Chemotherapy or not. I had a low score and choose to skip Chemo.  How lucky I felt 2.5 years ago and how I hope and pray she gets a low score...(plus she has beautiful hair :)  But when discussing the rates of recurrence and the probability of having it return in her bones or my brain, let alone a breast, I was reminded that Breast Cancer can kill me and now her. I know that sounds silly, because we all know women who left behind small children and great lives because their breast cancer went out of control, and we all know how a crazy gunman can take away your life with no notice, but it reminds me of the daily challenge to live in the present yet plan for the future. I am oh so grateful to have made it past my 53rd birthday and past my son's 17th and 10th birthdays.  Each day is a gift, yet I forget and get angry because the house is a mess or lights were left on.

This painting is from last year, Strong Like A Mountain, and I realized in the Oncologist office, that I can let the wind sway me, the water move me, the sun warm me, but let the mountain remind me that I am not going anywhere anytime soon.

Negative Space (sold)

Another friend of mine now has Breast Cancer.  She has a big job, two kids, a partner who isn't always on top of things and she financially carries the family.  I met with her in the park and we hugged and cried, remembering what an ordeal surgery and treatment were for me as she faces her own journey.   I remembered what Angeles Arrien had said in the Gratitude workshop...."focus on what IS working".  My friend texted me a few days later and said "focusing on what's working..its like working with negative space..it reveals itself if you avail yourself."  It's been said that you tell people things you need to hear yourself.  That is the truth on this one.  What IS working is there for everyone to see, but often invisible to those closest to it.  I came home embraced my family, and felt grateful to be able to support my beautiful friend.

Whew...and my gift to strangers

I had my bi-annual mammogram today and although I don't have the formal radiology report, there seemed to be nothing of interest on the images.  Whew.  Every six months I find this combo mammogram/Dr. visit nerve wracking. .  After you have your turn in a room getting your breast squashed between two cold plexiglass plates, you remain in the light cotton wrap sitting in a waiting room to see if they need more images taken.   There were three other women in this inner sactum, and we were all at varying stages of the breast cancer experience.  One women was 19 years out, another just getting a Fine Needle Aspiration, the first step to see if there are cancer cells in a new found lump.  I handed the three women one of my painting mini-cards.  A bright little image emmanating life force.  It felt wonderful and somehow liberating to offer my images to strangers.  They were delighted. When I came out the 2nd time (I was called back in for more images because my scar, coupled with my dense breast tissue, obscures the area of the original tumor site, making it hard to detect new lumps) there were two new women deep in conversation. When one was called in to have her mammography, the other seemed crushed to be separated and left behind.  I retrieved my belongings from the locker and dressed in the changing room. On my way out, I handed the lone women two mini-cards and said "here is an offering for you and your friend."  The women took them, looked at each one, and then looked at me with surprise and big smile and said "thank you."  It was a random act of kindness and felt incredibly gratifying.  It seemed the right place to hand out my painting cards to strangers.

  

Life just keeps on coming

I'm making calls, going out on appointments, learning all about a new company, fixing dinner, keeping up with my 3rd grader's anti-social behavior, my teenager's experimentation with alcohol, my partner's business struggles, my own schedule of dance, swim and paint. Wow, it's alot to keep up with and I am once again being challenged by my left breast. I had what felt like a bruise on my side, and although there was nothing visual on my skin, it has evolved into what the Dr. says is Mondor Disease, a blood clot that makes the vein underneath visible. It comes up my side and then into my left breast. Coincidentally, it was time for a mammogram and they have called me in for an ultrasound to further explore. The radiologist said with the scar tissue and breast density, it's hard to tell what's going on. Dr. ONeal says she feels a swollen lymph node and while I'm there tomorrow, I should have them ultrasound that, as well. If it seems suspicious, ask for a biopsy, although it could be from the blood clot. "blood clot" sounds horrible, but supposedly it's not the kind that could travel into my heart or lungs and take me out instantly. The remedy is an aspirin a day and warm compress. Since the two surgeries a year ago, my breast has all kinds of weird sensations going on. Now it is more than ever...psychosomatic or is something really going on?

Last night in dance I saw how easily I am blown off my center. The theme was "moving from the center line.... In a balanced state." I have always been easy to rock, and yesterday was no exception. I just wanted to cry and hit "start over" so I might do things differently, create a life that wasn't so full of stress. Yet I do know that it is not what the stresses are, we all have them, it's how we carry them. I carry them as big heavy burdens wanting direction and decision, two things that challenge me on the simplest level...like what to eat or when to shower.
I'm reminded of an inflatable clown that you can punch and it gets knocked over but always comes back to standing. I need that kind of resilience.
Again, the challenge is to stay present in the moment and appreciate what I do have, and not let the fear of the what might happen ruin my NOW.