Mind Set Go

THE REAL BLESSING

I’m writing this on a plane on Christmas day.  I was lucky enough to sit by a window and see the sea of sunset for hours and hours, travelling from Frankfurt to San Fran.  I’ll probably post this later:

Sitting beside me in the plane are two books: The Embodied Mind: Cognitive science and human experience by Varela, Thompson and Rosch and The ARRL Extra Class License Manual for Ham Radio.  In front of me is a movie from 2017: Molly’s Game, the 140-minute movie about Olympian, Molly Bloom.  I’ve seen it before.  (Spoiler alert: You might want to skip the next paragraph if you have not seen the movie.)

Ten minutes out from the end of the movie, she states, “And that was that.  There was crying and hugging, jokes from my brothers, tough talk about how no one messes with the Blooms and level headed talk about Christmas miracles.  Steaks and beer bought by my father, and four reenactments.  And in the middle of it all, as grateful as you are, the reality starts creeping toward you like the tide.  It’s the first time you have the thought, ‘What do I do now?’”

And those words hit me like a train.  “And in the middle of it all, as grateful as you are, the reality starts creeping toward you like the tide.”  I reached for my computer at my side to record those words in writing and did much more than that.  I started writing this.

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I’m not sure why I am blogging.  Am I now a blogger?  What does that mean?  I don’t follow blogs.  I guess I happened upon some blogs when my hair was falling out.  I was thirsty for information about what having cancer would mean for me.  What did others go through?  How did they proceed?  How would it be?  What would having your hair grow back look like?  How long would it take?  Would I survive?  I found some information online.  Bits here and there.  And, I devoured books, information I will share in the posts to come, no doubt. 

I’m not sure which was more jolting: the words, “You have cancer,” heard from a resident over the phone.  Or, the words, “You don’t have cancer any more.  It went away from six immunotherapy and chemo infusions.  You have had a complete pathological response.  The cancer is gone.”

You see, I believed the words, “You have cancer…”  And instantly, just like that, a team of experts rallied around me despite a looming pandemic about to hit the country.  I had a team and a plan of action.  I had some choices along the way, yet I also knew I had very limited options if I were to follow the western medicine protocol—which I did, combined with hours of meditation, sometimes daily.  I chose to trust, and instantly a world-wind of doctor’s visits and tests (and 18 infusions that followed in the course of a year with surgeries and recovery and PT) began.  Just like that. 

But the words, “You don’t have cancer any more…, “ the words that not everyone gets, that one would think would be welcomed ecstatically, were equally disheartening.  Could I believe it?  Now what?  Was the ownership on me to develop a plan and follow it?  I really cannot describe the feeling.

And now, two and a half years after hearing those words, why was I so suddenly affected by the words so beautifully expressed in a movie about another woman who had been in a very different, yet equally desperate situation: 

“And in the middle of it all, as grateful as you are, the reality starts creeping toward you like the tide.  It’s the first time you have the thought, ‘What do I do now?’”  (from the movie, Molly’s Game, 2017, Terry Steiner International, Inc.; Entertainment One; the MG Company)

Just like that.

Regarding a serious accident, in the movie Molly stated, “Could anything good come of this?  Not really, but I learned something encouraging: I’m very hard to kill.”

When I was at my lowest, my sickest, and when, for months, I would stand up and my heart would race to 165 as I reacted badly to the hardcore chemo, I remember looking at my husband who was taking care of my every need and stating, “You have no idea how strong I am.”  Although I’m not sure I even knew at that point, but I did find out, and I really meant it.  I said it with conviction.

A cancer diagnosis is no failure: getting cancer, if it doesn’t go away or even if it might eventually come back.  Seeing the world with new eyes after a cancer diagnosis is a blessing you don’t wish on anyone else.  But, those of us who have faced extraordinary circumstances, whatever the case, whatever the outcome…  cancer or not… well, perhaps we have an opportunity to find out how strong we can be and just how strong we really are.  That is a gift that nothing, nothing, can take away, and it can be perceived as a blessing.   

I was thirsty for information about the “What now?” position I found myself in when I was told that the cancer was gone.  Yet the team was still with me: I had 12 infusions to go and the three surgeries I had chosen to have were looming in my not so distant future.  Just because the cancer had supposedly gone away didn’t mean it was over.  When the treatments ended and the surgeries were over, PT ended and doctors’ visits dwindled, that is when I asked myself, “What now?”

And so, here it is.  My “two cents” on what at least a bit of my journey felt like and how I remember it now.  And even though no one knows about this blog at this point, maybe someone, someone like you, will find it, and maybe it will “hit you like a train” so to speak.  We experience many moments in life—just like that. 

In cancer treatment we all have such different diagnoses, such different treatment protocols, and we are, each of us, so different in a myriad of different ways so that none of us react in the same way.  Yet the worst fear is that borne of fear.  Taking it one moment at a time whether reality creeps in or hits you all at once isn’t the best we can do; it’s not all we can do.  It’s what we can do through acceptance and meditation. 

There is much more to life than worry.  Living life in each moment is for all of us regardless of any status.  Kindness is empowering and universal.  What now?  This is now.  Live it, love it and be happy.  Rejoice in the grateful energy.  Just like that.  You, too, have it in you.  It’s in all of us.  That is the real blessing.