Last Sunday night, I arrived home from a deliciously wonderful cancer "camp." For a full week, our group of nine focused on health. We wanted to learn how to improve life longevity in the face of cancer.
There was laughter. There were tears. And there was healing. The staff was quite simply spectacular. They were kind, loving, knowledgeable and our true healing partners. Our days were filled with yoga, massage, group therapy, a healing circle, singing and dancing, sand tray play (yeah, okay, it was a bit "woo woo" but bear with me!), fabulous vegetarian food (but sigh, no s'mores) and individualized meal planning. There were also some very difficult discussions and talks late into the night.
The nine of us, each at different stages in our lives and different stages in our cancer journeys, created a deep bond and will be friends for the rest of our days. We were dealing with breast cancer, ovarian cancer, pancreatic cancer, prostate cancer, bladder cancer and colon cancer. Two members of our group were suffering from cancer in a different way – they were caretakers for their husbands who have cancer. All of us were fighting for our lives...for us and our spouses. But we're not just fighting to live. We're fighting to live well.
We made pledges to one another about how we were going to incorporate into our lives the many lessons that we learned. We all walked away with individualized yoga, diet, exercise, career and other lifestyle plans. We all recognized that failure is not an option.
People have said to me that in some ways cancer can be a gift, because it forces you to examine your life in a way that you may not have done had you not been facing a life-threatening illness. Generally when I hear that, I scoff inwardly and think that I would happily return this "gift."
No, I don’t feel fortunate to have been thrown this challenge. But as I went through the retreat, I realized the irony. Had I not had cancer, I would have never had the opportunity to experience the magnificence of that program.
I know I am a stronger person today than I was even two weeks ago. I am raring to go. I have my plan and I have the love of those around me. With that combination, I am absolutely sure that I have a wonderful life ahead of me.
If you’d like to read more about this “camp” please go to the Commonweal Cancer Help Program’s website at http://www.commonweal.org/programs/cancer-help.html
Friday, February 25, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Cheerios and Gratitude
This morning, as I was having breakfast with my twins, I was flooded with a "Wow - I'm still alive to experience these girls" moment of gratitude. I turned to Ellie and asked, "Why am I so lucky to have you two as my daughters?" Her response, without batting an eye, was, “Because God knew that you were going to have cancer.” She then continued eating her Cheerios and asked if I would read the Sunday comics with her.
The ease in which she answered that question astounded me. I realized, at that moment, that I had been battling cancer most of her life...certainly from as far back as she can remember. Living with cancer was simply part of my girls’ daily routine.
So many life lessons were thrust upon my children at such an early age. No child should have to see their mother in the hospital multiple times in a year. No child should have to see such fear in the eyes of those that they love. No child should have to witness what my children have witnessed.
But that is our life.
The girls learned early on how to be extraordinary. They learned about overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles and about the power of hope and faith. And now, even at their young age, they are strong, compassionate, resilient and so very very loving.
Right after breakfast I called my sister to recount what Ellie said. She reminded me that while I was pregnant, a friend wrote me a congratulatory email saying, “I’m so glad that you’re having girls, Eve, because you're going to raise two strong women.” I had no idea how strong they would have to be. But they have risen to the challenge and see themselves as a critical part of my healing. They encourage me to play when I want to work nonstop. They hide my Blackberry. They remind me to focus on the things that are important.
One of my original posts quoted the famous “Footsteps in the Sand” by Mary Stevenson. I was thinking about this poem today and realized that over the past 3 years, when life was at its most difficult, I was blessed with two tiny pairs of footprints in the sand.
The ease in which she answered that question astounded me. I realized, at that moment, that I had been battling cancer most of her life...certainly from as far back as she can remember. Living with cancer was simply part of my girls’ daily routine.
So many life lessons were thrust upon my children at such an early age. No child should have to see their mother in the hospital multiple times in a year. No child should have to see such fear in the eyes of those that they love. No child should have to witness what my children have witnessed.
But that is our life.
The girls learned early on how to be extraordinary. They learned about overcoming seemingly insurmountable obstacles and about the power of hope and faith. And now, even at their young age, they are strong, compassionate, resilient and so very very loving.
Right after breakfast I called my sister to recount what Ellie said. She reminded me that while I was pregnant, a friend wrote me a congratulatory email saying, “I’m so glad that you’re having girls, Eve, because you're going to raise two strong women.” I had no idea how strong they would have to be. But they have risen to the challenge and see themselves as a critical part of my healing. They encourage me to play when I want to work nonstop. They hide my Blackberry. They remind me to focus on the things that are important.
One of my original posts quoted the famous “Footsteps in the Sand” by Mary Stevenson. I was thinking about this poem today and realized that over the past 3 years, when life was at its most difficult, I was blessed with two tiny pairs of footprints in the sand.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Journey of Another Colon Cancer Patient
Over the last several months, a friend of mine has been supporting a 29 year old woman in Los Angeles who is also fighting Stage 4 colon cancer. This young woman has had a fascinating journey as she very carefully prepared (mind, body & spirit) for what is considered the mother of all surgeries. Basically, they open you up, pick out all of the cancer, flush your body with chemo and then close you up. Let's just say that I am planning never to have to have that surgery.
Today was her surgery day. After 11.5 hours, she is finally done. Why I'm writing about all of this is because I wanted to share with you part of what was written on her blog this morning. She very effectively captured my feelings as well...
You tried to scare me, but in spite of you, I became fearless.
You tried to weaken me, but in spite of you, I grew stronger.
You tried to isolate me, but in spite of you, I grew the most incredible support network imaginable.
You tried to make me tired, but I've never felt more energized.
You tried to make me feel hopeless, but my heart is filled with hope and my life is filled with promise.
You tried to strip my life from me, but my life is more rich and beautiful now.
Despite your best efforts, I will live to a ripe old age.
Despite your best efforts, I will be a wonderful mother.
And despite your best efforts, my faith in God, the goodness of my fellow man, the body's ability to heal, and my will to survive and thrive will never, ever be shaken.
Thank you for the lessons you taught me, cancer, but it's high time that you get the hell out of my body.
I have been told that the doctor believes that he successfully removed all of the cancer from her body today. Congratulations Gloria for your triumph over cancer.
Today was her surgery day. After 11.5 hours, she is finally done. Why I'm writing about all of this is because I wanted to share with you part of what was written on her blog this morning. She very effectively captured my feelings as well...
You tried to scare me, but in spite of you, I became fearless.
You tried to weaken me, but in spite of you, I grew stronger.
You tried to isolate me, but in spite of you, I grew the most incredible support network imaginable.
You tried to make me tired, but I've never felt more energized.
You tried to make me feel hopeless, but my heart is filled with hope and my life is filled with promise.
You tried to strip my life from me, but my life is more rich and beautiful now.
Despite your best efforts, I will live to a ripe old age.
Despite your best efforts, I will be a wonderful mother.
And despite your best efforts, my faith in God, the goodness of my fellow man, the body's ability to heal, and my will to survive and thrive will never, ever be shaken.
Thank you for the lessons you taught me, cancer, but it's high time that you get the hell out of my body.
I have been told that the doctor believes that he successfully removed all of the cancer from her body today. Congratulations Gloria for your triumph over cancer.
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