I have always been one of those disgustingly healthy women. Never mind how old I am, but let’s just say I’ve managed to slither through many decades with robust health…until I got cancer. There’s something about hearing the words, “you have cancer,” that’s life-changing. If I’ve learned anything through these last four years, it’s been to savor the moment and not get lost in a future I cannot control.
I’ve been a psychologist for a very long time. Used to urge my patients not to get too far ahead of the curve and to remain in today. (insert eye roll) Turns out talk is cheap and it’s way easier to advise people to do that than to actually structure a life around that philosophy.
Chronic illness is no one’s fault. Nor is it something to battle against. I told friends and family that if any of them used verbiage to the effect, “After bravely fighting for X years, she lost her battle with cancer…” I would personally remain on this side of the veil and haunt them in perpetuity.
In no universe do I want to be at war with my body. I have done my damnedest to establish détente with this illness. So far, paying close attention to food, exercise, mindfulness, and a carefully sculpted supplement program have stood me in good stead. Along with a ridiculous amount of research. I spent enough of my life working side-by-side with MDs in a professional capacity that I’m not afraid of them. If what they’re suggesting flies in the face of my research, I ask a lot of questions and am not shy about sharing research articles. What I have hoped for, and occasionally achieved, is meaningful dialogue with my care providers.
I’m sure many of them have wished I’d have the good grace to drop dead, but research bears out that patients who are prickly, who ask questions, who do not automatically say “yes,” tend to have the best outcomes. The mind-body connection is strong. And it’s something most MDs give short shrift to. We can visualize outcomes and help our bodies. Meditation (or prayer) is a skill that can take years to develop. I dusted off my neglected meditation practice four years ago when I was diagnosed and rarely miss one of my two daily sessions. Even if some days I’m just sitting there, the next session is usually better.
Along the way, I have learned far more about cancer than I ever wanted to. So much, I took a break from fiction and wrote a book titled, Alive, Surviving Modern Oncology. I had so many abysmal experiences, I wanted to do something however small to help others navigate what is far from a patient-centered system.
Today, I’m doing well. Energy is almost normal, and I’m able to do most everything. Last summer wasn’t great. It was the first summer in over fifty years I didn’t go backpacking. Once I got past my pity-party over that, I altered my focus. I am infinitely grateful for the walks/hikes I can do. Maybe this coming summer, I’ll manage a short backpacking trip, and it will be glorious. I used to travel hundreds of miles with a pack on my back. Rather than allowing myself to wallow in a sense of loss, I far prefer smiling at what I manage to accomplish each day.
Cancer has gifts once I got over the initial shock and grief. It’s shown me who my friends are, and deepened my spiritual connection with the universe. It’s honed my assertiveness skills. It’s deepened my sense of gratitude for each day. Probably most important, it’s taught me I cannot control everything. In truth, I can’t control much at all. But I’m okay with that. Finally. It has been one of my harder learned lessons.
How about some of you? Have you dealt with chronic illness? How has it shaped you? I’d love to know.