Cross the Line

There are many times in life where people are just trying to get through the day. I am not up for attempting to change the world or my little part of it when I have one of these days. On other days I can be quite formidable. It was on one of these more rebellious days I heard a good old Johnny Cash classic come across the radio – Walk the Line. Do we do what Johnny Cash advises in this song and stay in middle ground area to play it safe? There are advantages to not creating a fuss and staying socially accepted. Respecting boundaries is huge with me. I am not looking to cross any clear boundaries that have been made or have mine crossed. It’s tough for me to hold others to some I have made, but I have gotten better. I can say NO and mean it. Boundaries are meant to mark the limits of an area, to keep us safe, to enable us to play by the same rules.

But there are times you don’t get the notice you deserve if you walk the line all the time. Being a cancer patient is no time to walk the line. Cancer patients must dare to cross it. We must make a fuss because it’s our health that is on the line. Cross it, blur it, erase it, and boldly step into territory where you ask for what you need. New limits may need to be marked and a new set of rules written. These are a few of the times when I think it’s appropriate to advocate for yourself and dare to cross the line:

Cross the line when someone tries to make you feel “less than” because you have cancer, or that you’ve done something wrong because of it, or that if you just did this or that it would go away, or that you aren’t thinking clearly, or that you just aren’t good enough. None of these things are true. There are many pesky questions. These comments are a reflection of the person giving them. Just because I’m thinking about something differently doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it clearly. It’s insulting to infer my mind is affected because I’m making decisions that don’t jive with decisions someone else would like me to make. I won’t be gaslighted. I believe some comments that fall into this category are made in an attempt to feign that the person speaking them cares or to somehow make themselves look good. MAYBE they are sincerely trying to be helpful, but I don’t get it. You can’t lift yourself up by putting someone else down. Call these folks out while you’re at it. Possible responses may include:

  • Why are you asking?
  • Where did you hear that?
  • That’s not true. (I’m not interested in debating it.)
  • I disagree.
  • Let me answer your question as it pertains to me.
  • I choose not to discuss my health.
  • Choose more of an impolite response of your own choosing.

Cross the line when you feel your treatment plan may not be giving you its best. Patients never fail treatments. Treatments fail them. It’s more than okay to ask questions. Secondary cancer does not equate to substandard or second-rate care. We are not any less deserving than early-stage patients. Treatments need to be given in the spirit of the best possible outcomes as they are for everyone else. Sadness, pain, and suffering are all real feelings that don’t discriminate based on stage or prognosis. We should not have to ask for compassionate care or if something more effective may be available, but if these things aren’t there, cross the line. Keep asking if new treatments are available. You might not know if you don’t ask. Doctors may not know you’re interested in other options if you don’t speak up. Doctors may need nudging. Lots of nudging.

Cross the line if you do or don’t want to do something. This could be socially or medically, especially if you have questions about plans directly involving you. Remember it’s okay to change your mind. Everyone can change their mind and it doesn’t mean things have taken a turn for the worse. Everyone’s interests change and evolve over time. You can have energy one moment and none the next. You have a right to talk more about your treatment if concerns and questions have cropped up after agreeing to or starting something new. You are not being difficult. You are being an informed and empowered patient, a good patient in my opinion.

Cross the line when someone talks about someone who has died from cancer and then tacks on in a hushed voice that he or she was Stage IV. I mean no disrespect – but withstanding complications of surgeries or infections – of course they were Stage IV. It isn’t exactly a newsflash. I know I’m sensitive to those words. It always strikes me as somewhat insensitive and unkind to whoever died. Why does it need to a qualified by a stage label? Someone still died. Yes, life changes with a metastatic cancer diagnosis. I feel the time has passed, long passed, for people to whisper the words “Stage IV” after someone’s name. I’d feel better if they expressed more anger and outrage, asking instead WHY or HOW in this day and age hasn’t more research been directed to lower the number of deaths from metastatic breast cancer. THE NUMBER OF DEATHS HAS NOT GONE DOWN SINCE 1995!! I haven’t figured out a way to effectively address this growing annoyance I have with the whispers. Perhaps my first step is to find out why it matters to them to include the information of a Stage IV label with a lowered voice before I go on the defensive. It’s possible I’m misinterpreting their intent based upon the lens from which I hear it. I could then go on to explain how I’m living strong with a Stage V mindset.

I appreciate that people care about me. Most of the people in my life are not intrusive. Those folks get the boot. I have reached a point though that when I encounter someone who is either speaking about me or for me by way of assumptions or falsehoods that I won’t let it pass and be quiet. Perceptions about secondary cancer must keep changing. I felt such a wave of relief and support from a friend I had lunch with a month ago who listened with empathy as I shared how I felt about comments I heard about those with Stage IV. She said she knew LOTS of people who were living years past the five-year survival mark. She should know people like me because she’s a director of development with ties to events and donors at the hospital where I receive treatment. I know there are more people like me who are living by example and changing the perceptions, definitions, and conversations around metastatic cancer.

I am done walking the line.

Taking Risks and Ospreys

Two years ago, I saw an osprey on a warm summer day. It landed squarely on a small tree right in front of a window in my family room. There couldn’t have been more than six feet between us. It should not have been there at all because these birds like water areas filled with fish. A small pond is located a stone’s throw from my home, but I have never seen anyone fish there. Yet, there on a very obvious branch perched an osprey for me to see it. It got my attention. Right away, I knew it wasn’t a red-tailed hawk or a peregrine falcon. I had no clue what it was, but it edged closer to my window for me to observe for around twenty beautiful seconds. We stared at one another. Moments later it spread its wings and flew away. I grabbed my bird book and took to the internet to find out what I saw and what the sighting meant.

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Image credit: pixabay.com

I learned ospreys submerge their entire head underwater when preying on fish. They symbolize that you can be very much out of your comfort zone (or usual environment) . . . and survive. These birds teach us to take risks, not be frightened to take risks, even if opportunities seem out of reach. Although all birds are messengers, ospreys bring awareness that an important message is on its way.

They remind us:

YOU are ready.

YOU are skilled.

YOU are fearless.

The rest is up to us.

Like the osprey, I have been very much out of my comfort zone and survived.

I have survived many things. I have survived chickenpox, many flu viruses, and other illnesses. I have survived bullying. I have survived airports and air travel. I have survived chemo and a myriad of other treatments and side effects. I have survived tornado warnings and personal emotional storms. I have survived the pain and grief that follows the passing of loved ones. I have survived many challenging students in the classroom, and they have also survived me. Surviving cancer is just one thing I’m living with and doing my best to survive. I am so many things, as we all are. Being a survivor is just one part of me. I’ve changed, but I call myself a survivor because I am still here.

Taking risks is part of living a fulfilling life. Some look at risks as adventures. Some thrive on danger. Some choices in life don’t seem to be choices, but rather the only choice you could make at any given time. I felt like this when choosing my first round of chemotherapy. I felt it again each time I needed to move on to another treatment regiment. It seemed I didn’t have much choice because the alternative was an outcome that wouldn’t work well for me. I feel like the past seven years have been an exercise in risk. Each treatment is a risk.

I’m risking my life in order to stay alive.

It’s hard. I get tired. And yet, I know I’m worth the risks I take. I want to be healthy and happy.

There is something missing. I’m so focused on staying well that I don’t have much time for anything else. The risks of sky diving or strolling by my lonesome through prime lion habitat don’t appeal to me. Developing a gambling addiction also isn’t the kind of risk I want.

On the one hand, I’m torn between not wanting to do anything, go anywhere, or see anyone who may put my health at risk. Parents who choose not to vaccinate their children for flu or preventable diseases could have life-threatening consequences for me. I must be over cautious. I can’t afford to take much risk in regards to my health. I am always going to base health decisions on scenarios with the lowest risk aligned with the greatest outcomes. Nothing is a sure thing. It all carries risk.

We all take risks in hopes of gaining a desired result.

But there’s the other hand. I don’t want to pass up chances to go out and have fun! I don’t want to put self-imposed limits on myself because I am unsure what I’m capable of achieving. I want to live with passion and purpose, to continue to learn and to lead, to change and to grow for the better.

There is some element of calculated risk in every choice we make. Some have bigger impacts than others. There are people who interpret risk as an opportunity, and others who see it as an assured failure. These are not the same people.

Taking risks has benefits. The most obvious, of course, is being rewarded with your goal. People who take risks are said to be more adaptable and they try more new things. They do not see failure as failure. Failure is an opportunity. They learn from these opportunities and bounce back more quickly compared to those who view unsuccessful risks as failures.

Risk-taking involves moving past fear in pursuit of what you want.

Fear prevents you from taking chances. Fear keeps you stuck. Life continues to happen if you choose to stay stuck – that’s still a choice. Taking a risk involves ignoring possible judgments from others. It may mean standing on your own, pushing past self-imposed boundaries, and doing something outside of your comfort zone. I don’t think it’s so much of a “no pain, no gain” philosophy. It’s more of an “if you always go with the flow, you never grow” mentality.

How might someone incorporate a little more risk into his or her life?

Pick a few from the list or come up with your own:

  • Explore a new town.
  • Ask for what you need.
  • Sign up for a ropes course.
  • Give someone new a chance.
  • Take a class to develop an interest.
  • Order something different at your usual restaurant.
  • Write or talk about emotions you find hard to process.
  • Ask more questions at your next medical appointment.
  • Respectfully disagree if you are misrepresented on an issue.
  • Share an honest opinion in a place where your view may not popular.
  • Make an appointment with a therapist if you know you need extra support.
  • Risk being rejected, turned down, the possibility of failure, or hearing NO.
  • There’s always sky diving if that’s really something you need to do.

Sometimes the biggest risk we take is not taking one.

Back to the osprey.

My head is submerged most of the time as I keep exposing my body to ongoing treatment. I’m definitely out of my comfort zone. The outcome has surprised me. It is one more thing I have come to accept. The big risk with treatment is it may stop working. That risk is worth it to stay healthy. I’ve learned I can take these risks even when they frighten me down to my bones.

The opportunities I have to be healthy are not out of reach.

It is why I keep my head submerged.

Defining Success

“She’s done it all.”

I heard this comment a while back referring to a TV personality. She has written songs and books. She’s written a movie, starred in it, and directed one. She’s co-hosted two morning TV shows. She had a lasting marriage, is a mother, and seems to be loved by many friends. I don’t know her, yet I get the feeling she returns that love back to friends and strangers.

She is talented. I like her.

You may even correctly guess this person’s identity. I’m purposely not going to name her because that really isn’t the point. It could be many people. Those in the public eye often achieve a level of success and celebrity because they are so visible in the public eye. Opportunities and connections come to them like bees to honey. Opportunities and connections are wonderful, as are bees and honey. Nothing is wrong with any of those things.

What I want to write about is success.

How is success defined?

Does success mean doing it all?

It certainly can.

But I haven’t done most of the things this woman has done and I am still successful.

I have family and friends who love me and I love them back.

I established myself in a career I loved where I was respected and made a difference. I feel that overall I was liked and had a good reputation. I worked hard over many years to earn that respect and reputation.

I have traveled extensively including all 50 states and 26 countries.

I have a beautiful home.

I have interests that allow me to grow while still feeling whole.

I see beauty in people and places.

I even have a few books and songs. Unpublished for now. I’d love to see that change with the books. The world may be better off without the songs. Lucky ones have heard these.

Each individual has his or her own definition of success. For a long time, the most familiar model for success meant money and power in the business world. Success was measured with a dollar sign. You were more admired if you held immense power. Popularity was an important indicator of success. You knew you had made it in the world if everyone knew your name. It mattered who you knew and how well connected you were. Success was defined by money and possessions.

Of course, life isn’t this way for most people. I suppose the above description does match a definition of success for a few. The fictitious George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life beautifully demonstrates how someone who doesn’t fit the above description still embodies success. He’s even the richest man in town because he has qualities that matter more than money or power.

Success to me means being loved and feeling happy. I have both of those.

Success means being healthy. I would love not to have cancer. But I do. I am thankful for the health I do have. I can’t feel defeated or unsuccessful when I always try. Some things are out of my hands.

Health means a lot. Life changes when a person has lost their health, mobility, or independence due to an injury or illness. I now live with one of those pre-existing conditions. I’m on Medicare. I receive disability. I can’t take long trips like I once did because of a revolving door of medical appointments. When I do travel someplace, I pack a traveling pharmacy. I try to keep up but need to do less sometimes. A lot has changed. Many health dominoes have toppled over much earlier for me than I thought they would if they toppled at all. The thing with dominoes is that when one domino falls, others do, too. I took my relatively good health before cancer for granted. When a person has good health, they do have everything. I still have a lot, but life is different.

Feeling happy and healthy are the two forces that guide any feelings of success I have.

I am not “doing it all.” Having/Doing it all means different things to different people. It’s all relative to an individual. If I don’t have what someone else has does it mean I am lacking, or vice versa if the situation is reversed? My goals are to be as happy and as healthy as I can be. I still want to get up in the morning with the intention to somehow be helpful if possible and to live joyfully. I want to go to sleep at night with the satisfaction that I succeeded.

Take a moment and think of a time when you felt successful. What had you done? How did you feel?

I’ll give a few examples that may trigger some ideas.

One of my extracurricular activities in high school was forensics. I was a storyteller. Although I never came in first at a meet, I did place well enough to earn a trophy once. The trophy wasn’t all that important. I felt successful in retelling a story so well that I painted a picture with only my words and captured my audience. I also felt extremely successful that I never passed out during a telling. I had a wide range of standards to define success in those days.

I also am privileged to present a small scholarship to a graduating high school student who plans to major in education. It isn’t much, but it’s important for me to be able to give back. I feel successful that I can support someone’s dream in a small way. Still feeling connected to the educational community also makes me feel successful.

Reaching goals enable a person to feel successful. When I finish a hike or a bike ride I feel successful because I have completed something from start to finish. When I’m able to lift more weight or meet a new benchmark in my training sessions I feel successful because I know I have made progress. Goals can be small to still feel successful. I know someone who had a brief stay in the hospital and needed to move around more even though it was painful to walk far. She told me one of the nurses saw her making a slow lap around the halls on the floor. Afterward, the nurse came into her room and made three boxes on the whiteboard where general notes were written about diet, meds, and other plans. She checked off one box for one lap and told my friend she needed to do two more that day. My friend confided in me she really didn’t want to because walking hurt and she was so slow. But those empty boxes stared at her waiting to be crossed off. The boxes were such small things, but very motivating. She did what she had to do. She simply crossed them off without walking to make it look like she had done the work. No, she didn’t, but I wouldn’t have put it past her. She did two more laps, each one faster than the last. She was very pleased with herself. I was proud of her.

No money, fame, or power were in any of these examples. Success truly came from a place of happiness, being able to help, and being healthy enough to get something done.

As long as I can find a way to feel happy, helpful, and healthy, I will be successful.

I would love to hear your ideas and thoughts on how you define success.

Pelican Lessons

Sanoviv Medical Institute is situated on the Baja Peninsula in Rosarito, Mexico. It’s built on a cliff looking out at the Pacific Ocean. Every day seems sunny. A lulling symphony of rolling and crashing waves repeats itself over and over. It’s a small hospital that specializes in functional medicine and both integrative and alternative treatments. Many guests visit for a health retreat. A smaller group of guests are patients with more serious health conditions. Research there focuses on how immunity can be supported at the cellular level in fighting disease and optimizing one’s best health. The physical, mind, and spirit are all important components of a healthy individual.

I left Wisconsin for Sanoviv almost as soon as my school year ended in 2016. My goals included strengthening my immunity, detoxing my body, and learning more successful ways to deal with stress. I was open to hearing what they recommended in terms of treating cancer. My oncologist at home was curious and doubted anything would interfere with my current protocol. I wouldn’t be missing any treatments at home by going. Neuropathy had taken a toll on my poor feet. I was also suffering from painful hand-foot syndrome. Of particular interest to me were the options for treating disease from a cellular level after disease had already happened. I signed up for a three-week cancer support program. If nothing else, I was off to Mexico in an idyllic setting and getting away from my life at home. It was even better if my health improved.

There are many moments from that trip etched away both in my memories and in a book that exists in a forever state of revision. I met people from as far away as Nigeria, Australia, and China, and as close to home as Chicago. My days were scheduled from 6 AM to about 7 PM. Some of it was not pleasant, but many parts of it were filled with beauty, purpose, and deep lessons. What I want to share briefly are my memories of the pelicans.

Pelicans flew along the coastline daily. I had never held any affection for these birds. I thought them big, ugly, and dirty looking. If a bird could be fishy, pelicans were fishy as well. My opinion transformed at Sanoviv watching these strong and graceful birds. I admired how they would pass by in single file while floating on an air current. It was like each bird was connected to another with an invisible string. They reminded me of bikers drafting behind a lead bike so as to block the wind and use less energy, an idea which bikers got from birds no less. At other times the pelicans arranged themselves in groups of four like in fighter jet formation. Wings tucked in for increased speed, yet they still managed to stay in unison with each other. These birds had an unspoken quiet beauty no matter how I saw them.

I had a very special pelican sighting on my last full day. I was sitting up in a special care area receiving IVs, looking out at the ocean in a bit of a daze, lost in thought. Far out on the hazy horizon, I saw a somewhat shapeless form. I wondered if they were pelicans, but they were too far away. Whatever it was resembled the v-shaped way a child draws birds flying in pictures. As the shapeless form drew closer, it moved off to the left and changed shaped, now reminding me more of a swarm of bees. From where I sat, I temporarily lost sight of the changing shape and figured that was the end of it.

But it was not. The shape was a small group of about four or five pelicans who were just hugging the coastline. Soon enough, they came back into view and flew by my window in a single file in one long, continuous silent flow. It was as if the pelicans were saying goodbye and purposely saluting me with their waving wings. It was a beautiful and peaceful moment that I will never forget.

Here is one of those perfect times where everything fits together magically. In the animal spirit world, pelicans symbolize regeneration and resourcefulness. I was at Sanoviv to heal and re-energize. The pelican population had dwindled in the past but presently has bounced back. Pelicans also represent resilience and determination. My spirit is filled with this same resilience and determination. My mindset is of one determined path just like the single line of the pelicans’ flight. A greater force was absolutely at work in bringing pelicans to me day after day after day. Signs are always there. I don’t believe it’s all a coincidence.

I didn’t get all the answers I wanted at Sanoviv. I arrived home feeling healthier than I had in a long time. My energy was better, my cholesterol was lower, and I felt happy. New scans were scheduled at home. These showed that returning to a more traditional form of chemotherapy was in my best interests. I would have had the same results if my scans had been scheduled before I went to Mexico. It’s interesting that one of the things I’m currently receiving today is what they suggested as my best option almost three years ago. The drug was not being used in the U.S. in exactly the same capacity as in Mexico, so I got a big fat NO from my oncologist at home. It was an FDA thing. Now it’s FDA approved.

I quickly made decisions and turned my life upside-down once more. Nothing was how I wanted it. Very little seemed the same. Life looks very different to me now. I have been resourceful, resilient, and determined, just like the pelican. Where everything isn’t perfect, I am still here. I am finding a way.

Lessons of resourcefulness, resilience, and determination are important for all of us. We all have stories where life hasn’t turned out as we planned. Many events are outside our control. We almost always think we have more control over events than we actually do. How we respond when life becomes hard is important. There is always a choice to respond positively or negatively. We all have opportunities to adapt, regroup, and come back to either try again or go in a new direction. We rest and give it another go, approaching challenges from new angles and perspectives. We all have more grit, strength, and determination than we think we do.

We are an awful lot like pelicans.

Many times we glide with grace.

Other times we need to be in fighter jet formation.

 

Consider responding:

  • When have you needed to depend on resourcefulness, resilience, and determination?

Van Gogh and Hope

Did the Impressionist Movement only give us artistic masterpieces and inspire other artists for years to come? Please note I use the word “only” loosely. My answer would be an emphatic NO. These artists also gave and continue to give us hope.

Vincent van Gogh may not initially stand out as a hopeful figure. He struggled with both his mental and physical health. His most famous paintings will always be his main contribution to the world. Starry Night is one of my favorites.

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Van Gogh painted Starry Night in 1889 during his stay in an asylum near Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

Today’s post combines my love for inspiring quotes with blogging. Lately, I’ve come across several quotes from Van Gogh that have blown me away. I do not know in what context he said them or really if they were significant to him at all. I tend to believe they were significant to him based upon their content and some of his paintings. These are some of his words that have inspired me.

“Be clearly aware of the stars and infinity on high. Then life seems almost enchanted after all.”  ~ Vincent van Gogh

Life is enchanted. It’s easy to get wrapped up in its day-to-day minutia. There’s a repeating cycle of laundry, groceries, cleaning, yard work, and for me, medical appointments. The time I spend trying to live well with cancer feels so far away from noticing moments of infinity on high. There is always something health related even if it’s a little something. Daily medications are a good example. I see my port bumping out from my chest every day. My wig. These all are routine things but constant reminders of how my life is different. Making time to recognize and take in infinity is a must because it provides balance and perspective to life in my medical world.

It also sometimes feels like everyone is so focused on their own lives that moments where we interact with one another in meaningful ways are fleeting. Stores are understaffed. Customer service has all but disappeared in some businesses. Friends are in a rush. I treasure time with them. Social media, texts, and emojis replace conversations. Living life through social media is not very enchanting. I live in this world, too. Emojis are quick, effective, and sometimes highly amusing.

Looking up at the stars reminds me how big the universe is and that all my big problems are really small. People don’t make time to gaze at the stars and wonder anymore. Unless you live in the countryside far away from man-made light, getting to see a true starry night where shooting stars are common and a person can witness infinity on high is hard. City stars are not the same as country stars. I remember a geography course for graduate credit I took in Ecuador around the year 2000. It was in the jungles off of the Napo River where darkness closed in all around me where I saw the best starscape of my life. Utter darkness met me in every direction except upwards. Stars bedazzled the dark above. I only took them in for a few minutes because we were encouraged not to stay outside very long in the blackness for our own protection. Large cats stalked unseen and unheard in the night. Yet, for a few sacred moments, I saw the heavens like never before. It stays with me as a singular moment I’ll remember forever.

“I confess I do not know why, but looking at the stars always makes me dream.” ~ Vincent van Gogh

Dreams give us hope. We wish upon stars. Stars awe us. Songs are sung wondering what they are made of and comparing them to diamonds. My dad sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Star nightly to me. Starshine has always mesmerized me. If light from stars can travel trillions of miles to reach us, then can’t we also believe our dreams may come true? Can I wish to live? Can I wish to be completely healthy again? So often when we dream while sleeping, we don’t remember what we dreamt when we wake up. We can control what we dream when looking at stars and dream of what makes us happy.

Did Van Gogh say these statements before or after he painted his masterpiece? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter to me. It is more than enough that he said them because it makes me look at my favorite painting of his with more wonder and awe. I work hard to wonder and awe about life as much as possible as someone with metastatic breast cancer.

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.”   ~ Vincent van Gogh

 

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My attempt to create a Ukrainian egg in the style of Van Gogh.

Am I a painter? No. I am confident there would be voices other than an inner voice confirming it. Even so, I do believe in doing the thing I think I can’t do. I do plenty of new things (new hikes, bike paths, foods, small risks). I do plenty of hard things (conflict, scans, side effects, funerals). I think Van Gogh was thinking about all the opportunities we don’t pursue because we convince ourselves we can’t for any number of reasons. The negative inner voice is quelled when I take a NO and turn it into a YES. Maybe this quote of his is telling me is I should give painting more of a try. I’m up for finger painting. The swirls of color would feel so Van Gogh.

“Close friends are truly life’s treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone.”   ~ Vincent van Gogh

And . . .

“I wish they would take me as I am.”    ~ Vincent van Gogh
 

Friends take us as we are. Those who don’t are not friends or worth the trouble. My need to belong has always caused me anxiety. There are still times when I feel left out. Like Vincent, I wish everyone would take me as I am. I wish I could be okay with it when some don’t. The people who don’t aren’t worth my time. I’m reminded I only need to belong to myself.

“I think that I still have it in my heart someday to paint a bookshop with the front yellow and pink in the evening…like a light in the midst of the darkness.”   ~ Vincent van Gogh

Why a bookshop? He could have said a flower shop, a café, a market, a boutique, or any number of storefronts could be yellow and pink in the evening. Van Gogh also spoke of light. Reading is light. It gives joy, knowledge, and self-awareness. Reading can be a source of hope. Light is hope. Once again, I return to ideas of stars being the light in the midst of darkness. Books are like stars. Books shine light in the midst of darkness.

“Many people seem to think it foolish, even superstitious, to believe that the world could still change for the better. And it is true that in winter it is sometimes so bitingly cold that one is tempted to say, ‘What do I care if there is a summer; its warmth is no help to me now.’ Yes, evil often seems to surpass good. But then, in spite of us, and without our permission, there comes, at last, an end to the bitter frosts. One morning the wind turns, and there is a thaw. And so I must still have hope.”    ~ Vincent van Gogh

Call me foolish for I am one of those people who believes that the world can still change for the better. There is more goodness in the world than badness. There will always be more heroes than villains.

Springs and summers follow the coldest winters. Having said that, spring sure took its sweet time this year.

I must have hope. I must maintain hope that treatments are discovered in time to save me, to save everyone with cancer. I believe in targeted therapies that are matched to patients who have a strong likelihood of responding well to those treatments. More research is needed to develop more of these. Research equals hope. Hope is my driving force and motivation in advocating for more research directed to treatments for advanced stage cancers. I do my best to stay strong and healthy which feeds my hope. I do what I can to financially support research for metastatic breast cancer. I still have hope.

Van Gogh has said he wanted his work to express “sincere human feeling.” He succeeded many times over and over again. Hope is a kind of feeling that warms, intensifies, and empowers. How he captured this quality in his art so that it still evokes such an emotional response over a hundred years later is a mystery to me. He had an extraordinary gift as an artist. His art and words continue to give hope.

Immense and everlasting hope.

Exercise is the New Sugar

Sixty is the new forty. Eighty is the new sixty. Cocktails infused with mushrooms are said to be all the rage. Small weekend trips may replace bigger vacations. I’ve heard iTunes is out. Everywhere I turn, I seem to hear about a new trend or way of thinking.

Here is one of my own: Exercise is the new sugar.

This may not be new knowledge for many, but it is for me. I have said before that I have sweet teeth instead of just one sweet tooth. I will always love sugar. I am trying to love it less these days. I would love it if I could crave exercise like I crave desserts. It works for a while and then my love affair with sugar returns. All I can do is to keep trying. This week I felt more successful in eliminating some of the refined sugar in my world.

Every day is an opportunity for a fresh start.

Exercise feeds us better than sugar for many reasons.

Exercise and Cognitive Benefits

Exercise can give you the same effects that sugar does in terms of a quick energy boost, only with exercise the effects are long-lasting and healthy. For example, exercise improves cognitive functioning. A person’s focus is sharper due to boosted energy caused by higher endorphin levels. Exercise also improves memory. Sugar does the opposite by increasing glucose levels that slow cognitive functioning. Have you ever noticed that your brain works better after exercise and the opposite is true with too much sugar?

Exercise and Endorphin Levels

There’s more about to say about those endorphin levels. Exercise increases endorphin levels. I’ve heard that your body craves exercise and movement. When your body moves a lot, it releases chemicals like endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin as a reward for your efforts. The result is you feel fantastic and have loads of energy. Sugar makes you feel good for a few moments but has addictive qualities that keep you craving it without any positive rewards. It’s a vicious cycle of falling levels of blood sugar that you need to literally keep feeding more sugar because your body feels lousy if it doesn’t get its sugar fix. In the long run (or even just a solid walk), exercise will make a person feel happier.

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A good solid walk can boost endorphin levels.

Exercise Combats Depression and Anxiety

Reduced depression and anxiety is another benefit of regular exercise. Both high-intensity aerobic exercise and low-intensity exercise like yoga have been found to reduce depression and anxiety.

Sugar also affects mood, but much differently than exercise. It has been correlated to higher levels of tension, depression, and anxiety. Personally, it’s so much easier to reach for cookies when I’m upset or sad than to go for a walk or work out. The cookie is instant gratification. I feel comforted for a few minutes. Working out takes longer for feeling better to kick in, but I feel like I’ve accomplished something good for myself when I’m done and feel more positive.

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Yoga can reduce depression and anxiety.

Exercise Lowers Disease Risk

Exercise decreases the risk of heart disease, diabetes, obesity, and certain types of cancers. It increases your chances of living longer. Of course it does! Sugar is associated with higher risks of health problems and diseases. There are many studies proving or denying sugar’s role in cancer formation or sugar fueling cancer. One seemingly reputable study seems to disprove another that seems as equally reputable. I’m not going to change anyone’s mind on what you already believe. I will, however, provide links to two sources where I often find research I tend to trust. Check out these articles at WebMD and the Mayo Clinic on sugar and cancer.

Is there a link? My opinion is a firm maybe. For me, I believe I’d be healthier if I consumed less sugar.

So Many Benefits

Exercise does a body good. It increases energy levels. Exercise is good for muscle and bones. Weight lifting is especially good for muscles and bones. It’s a must do as people age and lose muscle mass. As early as age 30, a person can lose 5% of muscle mass every ten years. Muscle atrophy happens fast for cancer patients because of decreased levels or lack of physical activity. It takes time to rebuild lost muscle mass.

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Focus more on proper form than how much the weight weighs. Proper form helps you stay safe and healthy.

Exercise can help with weight loss. Maintaining a healthy body weight is important at any age. Unfortunately, metabolism slows as a person ages, and regular exercise helps in those efforts to keep movement and activity a priority. Someone with cancer doesn’t need to do much to gain or lose weight. I’ve both put on weight and lost weight while maintaining the same exercise routine throughout many different cancer treatments. It’s been very frustrating to gain weight when I continued to work out, but I had the peace of mind that I was doing what I could to stay strong whatever number stared up at me from the bathroom scale. Exercise will change the way your body looks on the outside and the inside. Illness is harder to take hold in a healthy inner environment.

Sugar is good for making fat, fat, fat. Your liver makes and stores glucose depending on your body needs. Excess sugars that don’t get converted become fat. Too much refined sugar and high fructose corn syrup can attribute to liver disease. High fructose corn syrup is an unnatural sweetener made from cornstarch and found as the main ingredient in many sweet treats and foods. Foods high in sugar attribute to weight gain. That’s nothing new. I find that if I take the time the read the ingredient label listed on some of the sweets I crave before eating them that I get disgusted and can walk away. It’s a good hack.

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All image credits today are from pexels.com.

Here is where I am: If sixty truly is the new forty, my chronological age suggests I should feel like I’m thirty. Newsflash – I don’t. I feel much older than I actually am due to what my body has endured. Cocktails with mushrooms are out for me because I cut out alcohol years before diagnosis. Alcohol ages a person. I also was just getting the hang of iTunes. I hope I can figure out whatever is next. I like the idea of weekend trips. I’m all in for those.

Exercise needs to be my new sugar.

Someone please remind me I believe this the next time I start to go a little crazy and feed my sugar cravings.

Three Lenses to Braving the Wilderness

Living with cancer has given me the opportunity to spend more time reading for enjoyment. It is a welcomed escape. I recently read one of Brené Brown’s books, Braving the Wilderness. In today’s post, I explore this book’s themes from three different lenses.

Lens One: Braving the Wilderness Brené Style

This lens is a basic introduction to the book’s main message. Brené Brown explains that being brave involves being true to yourself. Being brave means bringing life to your story. You are the only one who can do it.

She says you aren’t going to please everyone. Inevitably, it means you can’t be brave and never disappoint anyone. So true.

If you seek the constant approval of others and people pleasing is more important than your own inner happiness, you are not being brave.

There will be criticism with braveness. There will be LOTS of criticism.

There will be great moments of uncertainty because you are standing alone.

There will be vulnerability as you discover all your truths and how you are discovering exactly how you belong.

These sound terrifying. Going through life not knowing yourself is more terrifying. Braving the wilderness means you stand firm when you face the wind and disapproval of others. When you know yourself, you have the courage to stand firm in your beliefs because you know who you are.

To truly belong, you only need to belong to yourself.

That’s the biggest take away for me in the whole book. In a world where belongingness is sought after in almost every interaction and relationship, we all lose sight that the most valuable relationship we have is the one we have with ourselves. The interactions that matter most are the ones directed at how we treat ourselves.

She writes that “true belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are, it requires you to be who you are.”

Belonging is intertwined with I AM.

Lens Two: Braving the Wilderness with Cancer

My opinion and personal interpretation take over with this lens.

Having cancer is a wilderness of its own. Truly belonging to yourself and blending that wilderness with a cancer wilderness is challenging. To own both wildernesses is overwhelming.

I believe if Brené Brown were to speak directly to me, she would say to lean in fully to the loneliness and discomfort of cancer. She would emphasize the need to become vulnerable with it. The personal connection with it would change how I feel about it. At least I think that’s what she’d say.

I also think I’ve had plenty of loneliness, discomfort, and enough of a personal connection with cancer already.

Brené Brown writes a lot about boundaries. The firmer the boundaries, the more respected they will be. It is not okay to be taken advantage of and trampled upon physically or emotionally. You can’t belong to yourself if you are crushed.

Cancer can crush a person as much as someone else can. Being bald makes you look and feel less feminine. Surgeries do the same and you’re left feeling “less than.” Others often confirm it. If you are flat, then you somehow have lost your womanhood. Perceptions around going flat are slowly changing. Treatments take all the oomph out you so there isn’t much energy left for you to object to cancer defining you. Medical labels, side effects, perceptions, and an evolving normal keep shifting. It’s easy for cancer to define someone. It’s much harder to claim belongingness.

Suddenly, you are not you anymore, but the person with cancer. Everyone has a story to share with you because that’s how they attempt to connect with you and now identify with you. It’s important to set boundaries for how you want to be treated.

Firm boundaries support trust. When others respect boundaries, it is safer to trust them. Trust has caused me an ocean of hurt. A lot has become clearer to me in the last few years.

To me, living with cancer and learning to trust more means:

  • I share what I want about my health and expect my privacy to be respected.
  • I do not have to explain or justify my feelings, nor do I need to provide a reason so others understand.
  • I can’t trust a person with the big stuff if someone has betrayed that trust with smaller stuff.
  • I need to feel physically and emotionally safe in order to feel connected to someone.

Strong boundaries enable a person to have more empathy for others. Self-care comes first. Then you know what you can do and not do for others. I still identify as a helper. Taking care of myself first lets me know what time and energy I have available for others.

Living well demands I brave it – it being life – and I’m braving it fiercely these days. The older I get, the more at home I feel in my own skin. I’ve known for some time that my happiness depends on my braving life. I am comfortable with most of the decisions I make. Being brave is both frightening and peaceful at the same time. The uncertainty and vulnerability show up as frightening, but then the acceptance of those parts of my life oddly brings an element of peace.

Lens Three: Braving Well Together

This sounds like an oxymoron if braving the wilderness involves only needing to belong to ourselves and having the courage to stand alone yet firmly in our beliefs and values. The way I see it, there is still room for the support of others who are also being brave. Picture a wilderness scene. I can be standing in my wilderness next to a beautiful mountain lake holding a sign that proclaims my beliefs. Another person can be standing a few feet away near a magnificent tree with a sign that reads entirely different. Part of my wilderness may be accepting and trusting others. This holds challenges for me, but I need to be vulnerable enough to slowly test those waters. The other person may be working on keeping a few more personal thoughts and the confidences of others private. We can give each other the acknowledging head nod to show our support while still recognizing the work is an individual inner process.

The other way I believe we can be brave together is that it’s when we feel alone and are brave that someone else comes along and gives voice that they feel exactly the same way. We may think we are alone, but we are not. It’s very possible that someone was feeling the same way and was beyond grateful to cross paths with someone else giving voice and standing his/her ground in a way they needed. When we are brave on our own, social connections can be found. It’s part of finding your tribe.

Vulnerability has always been tough for me. Honestly, I haven’t always liked Brené Brown’s work. I stopped reading her first book years earlier because I didn’t like what she had to say and I found her too repetitive. Looking back, I wasn’t ready to do some of the work I needed to do.

I still have work to do. LOTS. There is so much I don’t have figured out. I’ve figured out this much: I’ve become more comfortable braving the wilderness.

Consider responding:

  • Have you read any of Brené Brown’s books? What stands out to you?