Grief and Gratitude – Day 14

Yesterday I discovered I was unable to be mindfully grateful in the midst of profound sadness.

Following some mental wrestling over what I could TRY and be grateful for, I simply sat with my sadness and didn’t try to pretend I felt anything otherwise, after a friend reminded me that sometimes all we can do is take the next breath.

And today a young friend of ours took his last breath.

Ironically Ibrutinib, a drug that may have improved his chances for survival, was approved by the FDA for use with mantle cell lymphoma this morning. But it came too late for him.

L died a little after 8amPT.

Late last night and even earlier this morning, on what we felt was the glorious news of FDA approval, I felt torn on what to hope for today.

The selfish part of me wanted to hope for a miracle recovery.

Yet the part of me that is slowly getting comfortable with death as a natural process (and the part that sometimes imagines the what-ifs of my own early demise) was only hopeful that L be at peace.

Friends gathered in the hospital and spent some time sharing amusing memories and, although I’m half a continent away, I know many of the stories, many of the people sharing and I can feel the energy of the room.

Laughter was shed as readily as tears. Celebration and mourning were conducted simultaneously.

While profound sadness and gratitude could not coexist yesterday, I find that the dichotomy of grief and gratitude can live harmoniously within me today.

And today I am profoundly grateful for two things:

The opportunity to have known such a unique character in life & the cathartic power of tears.

Gratitude Feels Hard to Come By Today – Day 13

After 12 days of thoughtful gratitude, last night we received word that a friend of ours was back in the hospital and this morning I awoke to this email message (names have been truncated):

***

I got a call yesterday from B. L's body is shutting down. He's put up a hell of a fight, but it's about over. We flew up to Maine last night and are here in the hospital.

Just wanted to let you know.

Fondly,
M

***

And, just like that, the mindful gratitude of the past two weeks left an audible sucking sound as it vacated the room. Of all the things that popped into my head, in the seconds stretched into minutes after reading that message, not one of them remotely resembled gratitude.

• L was diagnosed with a form of non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma fewer than 18 months ago.
• Mantle cell lymphoma is killing L.
• L is in his 40s.

In fact, of all the things that popped into my head, most of them either resembled a form of a mental it’s-not-fair foot-stomping or involved language far too vulgar to post.

So today, I walked my children to school thinking that while I could be grateful for so many amazing elements of my life (including beautiful healthy children), I was actually overwhelmed with sadness by the news and to pretend otherwise would be just that – pretending. It would be simply checking a box to find something good to write about today. Not because good ceases to exist in the face of sadness but purely because I am just not really feeling it today.

I can normally multi-task but being simultaneously profoundly sad and profoundly grateful sounds way outta my league.

After kissing my children goodbye, I spilled my sadness to a friend and I confessed that a daily gratitude post was feeling hard to come by.

I’m not sure what I expected to gain by sharing with her. I didn’t expect her to fix my sadness. After all, how does one ‘fix’ the nonsensical final effects of terminal cancer? I didn’t expect her to share my burden. She doesn’t know L or his wife.

I didn’t expect anything really. I just felt a little lost.

My friend, looked me in the eye and said, “Stacey, I’m sorry. Sometimes all you can do is just take the next breath.”

And so I will just do that instead.

Week Two of Gratitude Everlasting – Day 12

It’s mid-November in Northern California, the sun is shining, my window is open and I’m not wearing a jacket. My irrigation system is still in full swing and temperatures haven't required me to engage the central heating yet.

This scenario is wrong on so many levels since our rainy season was supposed to begin months ago but, since this post is focused on gratitude, I will look for the silver lining.

Day 12 – November 12^th – Today I am mindfully grateful for the flowers blooming in my yard.

Concerns over the driest year on record and apprehension over a climate that has shown a new tendency toward catastrophic storms aside, today I will relish the beauty that remains in late autumn and try and forget that this beauty may simply be the calm before the storm.

The flower is a calendula known for its anti-inflammatory and anti-viral properties. An edible healing flower that can soothe the body with its oils and the soul with its beauty.

Week Two of Gratitude Everlasting – Day 11

For the past few weeks, I’ve had an uneasy anxiety roiling in my head: my first follow-up oncology appointment. Logically, I realized the anxiety was a bit irrational. After all, no tests were to be conducted, this was simply a check-in with the possibility of a brief physical exam.

Despite logic, the nervousness persisted and I began to search for distractions. Looking for a daily mindful gratitude and beginning to document the positive has served as a tremendous distraction and I fully intended to be profoundly grateful for those diversions today (including trash magazines in the waiting room)!

But I have just returned from my appointment and realized I was profoundly grateful for something else today. A doctor who listens. And who hugs.

Day 11 – November 11^th – Today I am ridiculously grateful for hugs and those that tolerate them, return them and dole them out.

I’m a talker. And a hugger. Prior to attending a social event, I have to remind myself that not everyone likes high energy conversation and some people can even be a little tactile defensive when I move in for an embrace.

Sometimes this quiet, self-reminder changes my natural behaviors. Usually it doesn’t.

So, when Dr. J walked into the exam room, shook my husband’s hand and opened her arms to me, I felt instantly at ease. I could be myself. This non-verbal prompt was all that I needed to feel instantly comfortable to share the good, the bad and the frustrating. A simple hug told me that I was safe to ask the questions, share the concerns and the celebrations of the last few months.

I could spend hours hypothesizing on why a hug has this effect on me but I believe most of the magic of an embrace has to do with energy. When I hug you, I am consciously sharing my energy with you. If you are sad, I am actively trying to take some of that pain away and replace it with hope. If you are happy, I am eagerly nuzzling up to that happy energy in order to share the moment with you.

A hug is a very physical connection that can lead to emotional closeness and empathy. And fundamentally, I believe we are stronger when we realize we are all in this together.

Embracing individuals within a circle of family or close friends doesn’t usually get a second glance but I also hug people in the workplace and people I have just met. While this may seem incredibly odd to some who prefer a quiet nod or a professional handshake, I can take solace in the fact an embrace seems far more civilized than the way dogs say hello.

And I can learn a lot from the way a veritable stranger responds to a hug.

• Someone who hangs on tight is probably a hugger too. And needs that physical connection
• Someone who receives a hug tentatively and then falls into the clinch definitely needs the connection.
• Someone who barely allows physical contact is unaccustomed to people like me, in which case they definitely need the hug!

(While the above may not be considered empirical data validating my theory that all people should hug more often, I do believe this paradigm shift would make the world a kinder, more empathetic place.)

For a few months this summer I needed hugs more than usual. Each one had tremendous value to either my physical or emotional health.

• I received hugs that calmed my fears.                                                     
• A particularly poignant hug broke the dam on tears that desperately needed to break free.
• Daily hugs reminded me I was never alone and inspired me to smile a little brighter.

Perhaps the power of touch in and of itself is the powerful mechanism which would render a handshake as impactful but my preferred method of delivery is a hug. 

And I’m grateful for those who receive them (whether with grace or trepidation), those that reciprocate and those that initiate.

NOTE: If you'd like to spend the month in a similar state of gratitude, you can play along with me here in the comments section or check out KindSpring.org to sign up for their 21-day Challenge that began on November 7th.

Week Two of Gratitude Everlasting – Day 10

Generally I am described as an upbeat person. Yet, in the midst of the trials of everyday life including career concerns, child rearing, annoying illnesses and marriage squabbles, I can become hyper-focused on what is NOT working well in my life.

Earlier in the week, through a brief Twitter conversation, I had someone tell me they would love to be 40 again and full of energy. Implying that, at 40, I was young and I was lucky. I laughed and said that I was a huge fan of perspective.

Day 10 – November 10^th – I am mindfully grateful for the power of perspective in my life.

In November of 2011, my grandmother died suddenly after a massive hemorrhagic stroke. Holding her hand as she died was my first foray as an adult into the death and dying of a loved one process. In May of 2012, a dear friend was rushed to the hospital after a hemorrhagic stroke. At the time, she was 48 years old and there seemed little to be grateful for when more tests showed the stroke was precipitated by an enormous tumor in her brain. She was given weeks to live, if she recovered from the stroke.*  In January of 2013, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer – the final “bad thing” to come in the world of tragedy triads because we all know that“bad things always come in threes.”

So just over five months ago, on May 30^th, I was woefully unprepared for my own diagnosis of breast cancer.

My baseline level of perspective had changed with the death of my grandmother and the diagnoses of my friend and mother and “at least I don’t have cancer” was a common mental meme for me. So when I suddenly did have cancer, I was left flailing for the proper perspective.

But with time comes long hours of obsessing.

And with long hours of obsessive thinking, comes perspective. Or at least it has in my case.

• Stuck in a ridiculously long line? At least I’m not fearfully waiting in the doctor’s office for my pathology results.

• Stopped in a traffic jam due to a five-car pileup? At least my family is not in one of those five cars.

• Circular argument with a preteen who thinks s/he knows everything? At least I have two healthy children (and the fact they can form and articulate logical arguments is kind of a bonus too)!

• Spouse throwing a tantrum (this never happens in my house but I thought perhaps some people could relate)? At least I have someone who has stood by me for nearly 20 years, through thick and thin and now in sickness and in health.

Perspective is about acknowledging that, yes, it could always be better, but it could always be worse. And today I’m grateful for the upside of the outlook.

NOTE: If you'd like to spend the month in a similar state of gratitude, you can play along with me here in the comments section or check out KindSpring.org to sign up for their 21-day Challenge that began on November 7^th.

* My friend pulled through the stroke and began palliative radiation to prevent another. After a couple of missed diagnoses, was diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer and has been thriving for the past 17 months. Whenever I get mired in the negative and need a perspective reboot (aka a mental kick in the ass), I look to her and her family. They are not simply surviving, they are setting an example of how to make the most of each day!

Week Two of Gratitude Everlasting – Day 9

Pre-dawn and still draped in my comfortable sleepy fog, I began to mull over what I was mindfully grateful for today. Quickly I found my topic du jour and began writing the details out in my head, quite pleased with the result.

And then I hopped out of bed and stumbled to the coffee maker that had graciously already brewed the morning’s first pot. By the time I opened my computer to check the latest world events and begin this month’s daily documentation of gratitude, I had forgotten my topic.

I had not only forgotten Every. Single. Word. of my entire post, I had forgotten the basis on which I had mentally written it.

Thank you Tamoxifen brain.

And then I read this article: “Researchers Discover NewDriver of Breast Cancer.”

Which began with: “A team of researchers at UT Southwestern has found that as cholesterol is metabolized, a potent stimulant of breast cancer is created -- one that fuels estrogen-receptor positive breast cancers, and that may also defeat a common treatment strategy for those cancers.”

Day 9 – November 9^th – Today I am incredibly grateful for clinical and academic researchers

Research saves lives. But the process can be slow.

My mother’s cancer is estrogen positive. My cancer is estrogen positive. After having my breast cut off and some lymph nodes, I started a daily regimen of endocrine therapy designed to starve cancer of the estrogen that fuels its growth. Since I am pre-menopausal, the drug of choice is Tamoxifen.

I hate taking Tamoxifen.

I’ve always been averse to popping any kind of pill but this one is particularly annoying causing “medically induced menopause” accompanied by moodiness and severe brain farts.

What makes the drug therapy more annoying is the knowledge that it is NOT a cure or a sure-fire preventative against recurrence or metastasis.

But currently it is the best damn weapon we’ve got and I’m glad to have something in my cache against cancer. Thank you researchers.

And now the men and women of research have brought us one step closer to finding a more comprehensive way to prevent cancer from coming back by figuring out something else cancer likes for dinner. And, as GI Joe once said, “Knowing is half the battle.”

The other half will be to figure out how to eliminate or limit this cholesterol metabolite (27-hydroxycholesterol or 27HC) from the equation.

Whether in a clinical or academic research role, the work is always tedious and often thankless. I used to go with my father to the lab when he was getting a graduate degree at Bowling Green State University. While I was fascinated with the pipetting, the culturing, the comparisons of experimental trays to the control trays, the long hours of documentation and often inconclusive results were far less exciting.

Today I can’t remember what I originally intended to be grateful for yet that escapade has led me to perhaps a deeper gratitude for clinical and academic research that I can credit my life to.

We all can’t be researchers but, if so inclined we can help fund them. However, before you open your PayPal account or pull out your checkbook, please consider looking up your preferred organization on http://www.charitynavigator.org. This site gives the lowdown on how much of your donation goes to the actual cause versus administrative or other costs.

NOTE: If you'd like to spend the month in a similar state of gratitude, you can play along with me here in the comments section or check out KindSpring.org to sign up for their 21-day Challenge that began on November 7th. 

Week Two of Gratitude Everlasting – Day 8

Reading the reports from what may be the biggest typhoon ever to hit land in recorded history, I am sick in the pit of my stomach for those whose families are not safe and individuals who may have lost their homes, loved ones or even life itself. It is both easy and difficult to be grateful in times like these.

On Day 1 of this challenge, I established that I wanted to be mindfully grateful for something specific each day of the month. And I had intended to focus on one thing in particular. But, in light of what people are experiencing halfway around the globe, I am finding it difficult to focus my gratitude in one direction so today is a bit more encompassing.

Day 8 – November 8^th – I am profoundly grateful for the safety of my family and the warmth and security that comes with having a stable roof over our heads, clothing on our backs and food on our table.

Sturdy walls and a roof, electricity on demand, plumbing, food. These are things I take for granted every day despite the fact there are people around the globe that consider them often unattainable luxuries.

Today my gratitude comes not from suddenly realizing how fortunate I am to live in a first world country, it comes from watching Typhoon Haiyan suddenly rip those staples of our daily lives from people who are used to them as well.

And then thinking, “That could have been us.”

Just like a cancer diagnosis from left field, the typhoon came and changed everything for everyone in its path. Across an entire country, there are few places that we can expect to be unaffected based on the size and severity of the storm. Houses are obliterated and families are shattered in a country of over 96 million people.

And yet my family is warm (even though I am still steadfast in my refusal to turn on the heat!), well-fed and dry.

Empathy is important but I believe it is equally important refrain from allowing empathy to lead to complete emotional devastation.

So, I will do what I can do from my corner of the world: donate to the Red Cross and send positive vibes to an entire country while pausing to be profoundly grateful for the safety of my family and the current security of our home.

NOTE: If you'd like to spend the month in a similar state of gratitude, you can play along with me here in the comments section or check out KindSpring.org to sign up for their 21-day Challenge that began on November 7th.