My Glass Remains Half Full
My glass remains half full. Despite this, I am in a mountain of misery.
My intention has been to write the next blog about my move to Dallas. This was a very traumatic experience filled with so many unknown variables, but I was able to turn lemons into lemonade. And, I will share this story with you as there are many lessons learned but as John Lennon said…
“Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.”
I was just diagnosed with endometrial cancer which is a type of cancer that begins in the uterus.
Doctors don't know what causes endometrial cancer. What's known is that something occurs to create changes (mutations) in the DNA of cells in the endometrium — the lining of the uterus. I did not have any symptoms – vaginal bleeding or pelvic pain. I was blessed with an astute technician reading my pancreatic scan months ago which caused alarm in this area. I asked my doctor about this but as I am in a new city, I have not had success in scheduling tests due to availability, as a new patient and the COVID situation. So, my prognosis was delayed.
Treatment is a hysterectomy with chemotherapy or radiation as a follow up if required. I am not at all concerned and know Dallas has great medical care.
This diagnosis is a cloud not a downpour.
I am certainly not alone in the anxiety I am experiencing now due to COVID and the major readjustment to life. My lens has darkened and intensified in the past 6 months with a craving to make something pure out of all of the tarnishing. Establishing roots in a new city where I knew very few people, divorce, COVID and financial instability are a few of my stressors. This has been the source of my inspiration to put one foot in front of the other. And then, another health challenge.
I continue to feel eternally blessed with my passion and mission in helping cancer patients and caregivers. I have provided coaching and advocacy work on a variety of platforms and nothing brings me more pleasure when I hear, “Because of you Laurie, I did not give up.” A priceless gift!
Here are the steps I took immediately after diagnosis:
Collecting scans, reports, keeping detailed notes on everything related to this diagnosis
Research on assembling a team for treatment
Reach out for recommendations/immediate access to physicians
Identify/interviewing surgeons and oncologists
Used my voice/trusted instincts in making team decisions
Plan for recovery support (5 days hospital -8 weeks recovery)
Maintain nutritious diet
Exercise
Identify next steps
Very recently, I literally thought I was having a breakdown. Never having had one, I am not sure what it feels like. I do know this was unlike anything I have ever experienced – a deep liquid fatigue flooding my body, difficulty maintaining focus and balance and struggling to craft thoughts into words seemed elusive. Despair was ever present.
As a survivor of cancer myself, I pride myself in being fairly organized and efficient with time management. I am pathological with my note taking as there are many balls in the air, and I don’t want to miss anything. However, this day was unlike any other and I reached out to a doctor (female surgeon) that I am working with on a project. We have known each other for the past 13 years and she was the first in the pancreatic community to hire me as a speaker at her medical institution. I admire, respect and adore her. We have never discussed too much personally and yet I found myself calling her after I had my unstable experience. I did not have a script or give this much thought; I just knew I needed help and she was the first person that came to mind. I wanted to review a conversation that I arranged with a prospective client and felt I had dropped the ball on next steps. I opened the conversation with the disclosure that I was being vulnerable; this was not a comfortable admission. In describing my ‘breakdown experience,’ I was very transparent about the fragility I was feeling. I had just reviewed my notes from our client meeting before leaving for an errand when she called. I was in my car, writing furiously on a small note pad I keep in the console. She recited our conversation with the call to action exactly as I had transcribed it and I exhaled deeply with relief; I had not overlooked anything.
My stability has returned; however, I am still in a mountain of misery. I recognize the importance of not wallowing in these desperate feelings and feel good that I was proactive. This doctor is relying on me in a professional capacity and I revealed my deepest, darkest self. I was a big fat x-ray exposing myself and believe me, this was not easy.
Her words reassured me I was not losing my mind and she comforted me about my upcoming surgery. She is a very esteemed surgeon and while she has not performed any surgeries on me, I would trust her with my life. For most a hysterectomy is pretty straightforward. Because of my many pancreatic cancer surgeries including the Whipple (most complicated abdominal surgery in existence) this presents a level of complexity that requires a team of surgeons, 5 days in the hospital and an 8-week recovery. I don’t feel anxious at all and have an amazing support system with friends in my apartment building. That is the lemonade I mentioned in my opening which I will share in another post!
Splinters of grief continue to tear at my heart, but I am keeping despair at arms-length. I am eternally grateful for the love and support of my family and friends.
What steps did I take to overcome my emotions to ensure my allotted ability to heal has not been exhausted?
Recognized my fragility. I can’t prevent the situation, but I can control my emotions and how I react.
Acted quickly to understand and minimize emotions.
Clarified feelings – by identifying them I brought them to the center for processing.
Exercised vulnerability – reached out for help with honesty and transparency.
Taking baby steps eliminated feeling of overwhelm.
Celebrate accomplishments.
Meditated/prayed.
Wrote in journal.
Exercised.
Expressed gratitude and maintained a positive mindset.
In future posts, I will walk you through this cancer journey, after already being a survivor of cancer once, as I find solace in giving back to a club I never asked to join.
Little, positive things really do add up over time and they gradually shift us into more resilient and happier ways of being.
All things are difficult before they are easy.
I am inhaling love and exhaling gratitude.