I’ve taken a month or so off from posting due to our apartment move, but I should be back next week.
If there’s one thing that this move has taught me is that sometimes the things you fear the most (like change, for example) end up being what you need the most.
In our case, this move has come with so many positives…including a major purging of belongings that has created not only physical space, but also some much-needed headspace.
There is a certain lightness of being that releasing possessions we don’t need or use anymore has brought us.
This is just what I needed coming into Thanksgiving season. Granted there have been some unexpected and painful changes too, but I can be grateful for what we have had and enjoyed thus far.
So if you celebrate Thanksgiving, make sure to take time to consider all the things around you and, regardless of whether they’re good or bad, what they have taught you.
This was supposed to be a post for USA residents about how to find some harmony during the Thanksgiving holiday amidst the tensions brought by relatives with strongly differing views of the world. Such disagreements are always a possibility when families get together, but likely even worse this year.
But, no. Instead, I’m sitting here wearing sunglasses in a darkened room as I plink out this post.
Remember those shimmering scythe-shaped mosaics (auras) that I wrote about intruding on my vision some weeks ago? The ones that are associated with ocular migraines, but in my case minus any headache? Well, they’re still happening and with greater frequency.
Depending on which of my healthcare professionals you talk to, they either want to (1) wait and see how things progress or (2) shove me into an MRI tube ASAP.
Trying to keep my sense of humor…
And me? I really want to not be dealing with this issue. After seven years of putting a lot of space between my cancer diagnosis and the present moment, I am getting stressed by the possibility of this being something quite serious. And all I wanted was to enjoy the upcoming holiday season.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here are the details: I’ve now had seven of these episodes in about two months—I’m not even sure when the very first one was. After the last one (which was the second of two last week), I left a message with my ophthalmologist.
However, it was my oncologist who happened to call a few hours later, completely coincidentally, to give me unrelated scan results.
So, since I had him on the line, I told him about the auras. He sounded sad. And you know what? You never want your oncologist to sound sad, especially when they’re usually so good at being neutral when delivering news.
And then my ophthalmologist called back late that afternoon, urging me to see my primary care doctor as soon as possible and also schedule an appointment with her for the next day.
Next day, I snag a morning appointment with my primary care provider, explain the situation and the fact that I have no other symptoms other than the auras. Her take: this is very weird, yes…but it’s a hard sell to get this to qualify for an MRI at this time, even with the frequency. With my consent, she wanted to wait for a little bit and see whether the auras continued.
Or, I guess, until my head exploded or something.
Find a happy place, find a happy place, find a happy place… (Photo by serjan midili on Unsplash)
When I saw my ophthalmologist that afternoon, she was extremely concerned and incredulous that an MRI wasn’t the first course of action. I could tell that she felt waiting was a bad idea.
But ultimately, she acquiesed to the notion that we’ll wait, although she’s sending a synopsis of her findings to my primary. She instructed me to take excruciatingly detailed notes the next time one of these auras occurs
And if you’re still reading this far down and are convinced that my goose is cooked, maybe it isn’t. Sure this whole experience is stressing me out. But there are far too many confounding variables present to resign myself to the fact that I’ll be getting my head shaved again soon…variables which I might be writing about in a future post…
…or I’ll be talking about my ride in the MRI tube and subsquent diagnosis.
But for now, I’m going to rest my eyes in a darkened room and think of silky fur on a contentedly purring kitten.
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For everyone in the USA, have a wonderful Thankgiving with your lovely families this Thursday…and let’s all try to keep it civil.
With the Thanksgiving holiday coming up in the United States this week, I wanted to offer you a funny little story to think about when you feel there’s little to be grateful for.
Although I work from home a lot these days, I had gone in to the office a few days ago to get some things done onsite. It was a hectic day and I ended up leaving later than I expect, and as I walked to the busstop, I was carrying more items than usual, including an umbrella for the sun, a large zippered bag for my water bottle and food I hadn’t had time to eat and held my cell phone connected to a charger in one hand. I was loaded up!
Luckily my purse is backpack-style so I didn’t need to carry it in my hands. And my office keys were on my ID badge, which hung around my neck.
On the way to the bus, I was preoccupied with things that I still needed to do and concerns about issues at home.
The bus arrived, I got on and put my belongings on the floor at my feet, burying myself in a game on my phone.
NOTHING seemed out of the ordinary, save for someone who sat down beside me and seemed to press against me a bit. But, hey, it’s the bus and there were a lot of people on so it isn’t a completely comfortable ride. That’s okay.
Besides, the guy moved to another seat as people got off on their stops.
By the time we got to my stop, I prepared to get off by collecting my items. And my heart missed a beat: my purse was not there.
I did a double-take. I looked all around my seat. Nope, no purse.
My head started to swim because it seemed obvious that someone had taken it. I rushed over to the driver and told him that I thought my purse had been stolen. He listen to my story, called the dispatch and marked the security video, explaining that I should fill out a police report and let them know the time and bus number…
My mind was a blur as I tried to remember everything that I had in my purse. (Photo by Nick Noel on Unsplash)
I dutifully wrote down his instructions but I was already thinking of the hours of work that getting my cards cancelled, obtaining a new drivers license, getting new car, apartment and mailbox keys, and everything else would require.
“And now THIS on top of everything else!” I thought to myself as I got off the bus and walked home, feeling dejected and spent.
Before calling the police department I decided to call my co-worker to check my office in case I’d somehow left my purse there.
But I knew that was hopeless. There is no way that I would have walked out of the office without putting on my backpack purse, no way that I would have not felt it on my back as I stood waiting for the bus and absolutely no way that I would not have noticed that it wasn’t there when I put all my belongings by my feet on the bus.
I was wrong.
My co-worker told me that it was on the floor under my desk.
Behold the power of mindlessness! I have no idea how I could have missed all those cues that alert me to presence or absence of my purse, especially when it’s the most important item that I carry. But I did.
Gratitude hides out in the unlikeliest of places. (Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash)
However, that’s not the point of this post. The point of this post is, suddenly I did not need to call the police department, cancel my credit and debit cards, stand in line to get a new driver’s license, sit and recall everything that I had in my purse and wallet and anything else that I would have spent hours doing.
And I felt a tidal wave of gratitude wash over me, one that would have not experienced if I hadn’t spent the last 20 minutes convinced that someone had stolen one of my most important belongings.
That gratitude came out of nowhere. And it made me think.
If I could muster such a powerful feeling of thankfulness when I realized that something bad that I was sure happened actually hadn’t happened, maybe I could find a way to generate that same feeling without needing to experience the sense of doom beforehand?
In other words, I can be thankful for all the bad things that don’t happen even if there aren’t great things going on at the time.
So this Thanksgiving, my wish for you is to be able to experience sincere gratitude without having to lose your wallet and then find it.
For those of us in the United States, Thanksgiving presents an opportunity to gather with family and close friends and share a festive meal.
However, this holiday can become complicated in a time of polarized views. Coming on the heels of another political election, togetherness with those of strong opinions might be, to say the least, uncomfortable.
Put another way, the battles will be epic, the indigestion will be legendary.
So for everyone who is anticipating shifting restlessly in their seats this week, I wanted to offer you a short meditation.
Listen closely. On the surface you might not like what you hear, but there may be deeper messages that speak to the vulnerability of those who seem the most belligerent.
Listen. If you listen closely enough, you will hear the real reasons that your family members believe what they do, particularly if their views seem hurtful or unfair. It often has something to do with fear or an unfulfilled need and often comes from a place of vulnerability.
You will chose how to approach this. But I can assure you that arguments are pointless. There will be no “winner”. Just resentment and an even stronger resolve not to change their minds. Don’t plan on pulling a “zinger” that will convert everyone to your way of understanding. Not gonna happen.
Observe. Instead of reacting to statements that you feel are wrong, watch the body language of those around you – it will show you the state that they are in. Clenched fists, hunched shoulders, unsmiling faces, repetitive movements – all these belie discomfort. Are people enjoying their food or unhappily shoveling it down?
Take a step back to help you see what’s really going on. Everyone at the table has a three-dimensional life with their own desires, joys and sorrows. In the time of heightened emotions, it’s easy to forget that.
Smile and find something that everyone can agree on.
Breathe. Don’t get sucked in. If someone asks you what you think about a contentious topic, smile and compliment Aunt Gladys’ stuffing. How does she always make it so flavorful? You woke this morning salivating, thinking about having it for dinner.
It may sound contrived, but if you can find a sincere compliment to express, you can change the direction of the conversation and relieve tension. But please, be sincere.
This is not a dishonest deflection of attention. This is finding that one thing that everyone can agree on and focusing on it. It’s like lighting a spark and then blowing on it gently to help it grow into a warm and cozy fire. Everyone benefits.
This is mindfulness at its best. Every person has something within them that wants to be loved and respected, even if they don’t feel they deserve it. Sometimes those who seem the most cantankerous feel the most wretched inside. Remember, at the end of the visit, you will get to leave, so why not leave having spread a little joy and goodwill?
At the least, you will have made Aunt Gladys smile.
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There is a lot going on in the world that is worth fighting for. Thanksgiving dinner is not the place to do that. And perhaps the peace that you impart over that meal will eventually soften hearts and open minds.
Since this week is the Thanksgiving holiday in the US, it’s a good time to revisit the practice of gratitude. I wrote some time back about my nightly practice of writing down three things for which I was grateful. It was a lovely way to close the day on a positive note, as I would always be able to jot something down, even if my day was difficult.
Nightly gratitude journaling started feeling forced, certainly not the point of the practice.
However, after a number of weeks of this, I found it harder to be consistent. I would skip days, and often on the days that I could find something to write in my journal, the process would feel forced. The more I had to work to pull out little things to be grateful for, the less meaningful they became. Eventually, and regrettably, I stopped the nightly practice altogether.
Apparently, this is to be expected. Psychologist Sonja Lyubomirsky and colleagues from UC Riverside found that journaling once a week was more effective for boosting happiness than doing so more frequently. I can see why this would be. Everyone has stressful days that can wring any semblance of happiness out of us. Yes, while I found something to be grateful for any given day, if the overwhelming feeling was that of negativity then I was simply going through the motions of trying to find something–ANYthing–to write down. For me, this waters down the effectiveness of the exercise.
But writing on a weekly (or less) basis allows me to focus on the most powerful feelings of gratitude, and those have a stronger uplifting effect on me. They last longer and evoke a joy that daily journaling couldn’t.
In my life, there have been times that have felt very dark and heavy. In the moment, I have not always been able to find anything positive in them. Take, for example, cancer. Those weeks around my diagnosis were literally the most terrifying of my life, because I felt that this situation could actually cost me my life.
Quite frankly, if someone had told me then that I should stop and think of all the things I was grateful for, I might have told them to go to hell. The intensity of what was taking place right then–the shock and disbelief, the despair, the sheer fear–was too great to let in any light. For someone to have suggested that I should essentially “look on the bright side” would have felt like they were dismissing the reality of what is cancer.
For me, the process of letting gratitude come to me was far more effective than trying to snatch it out of darkness.
But as I passed through those worst weeks, I noticed things that bobbed up to the surface that I could be grateful for, so much so that at times I was overwhelmed with gratitude for how events had unfolded compared to how things could have been. I still had cancer and my life was still upended, but I felt a sense of grace about it all.
So if were to give one piece of humble advice to someone going through desperate times, it would be to remain open to the possibility that no matter how dark things may seem right now, when you finally have a chance to take a breath, you may see that glimmers of hopeful light have been shining through all along.
After posting about missing the “downtime” of chemotherapy, I need to talk about how much of a privilege it is to be here writing that. I get to reminisce about the positives of being allowed to have no other job but to rest and recover.
Sometimes I complain about chemo brain, sometimes I wonder why *I* got cancer when those who take worse care of themselves seem to get off scott-free. I’ve left the initial fears about death behind me. Yes, my cancer may come back, but right now I’m in a good place with a good prognosis. My reality is that I will be able to enjoy this holiday season and focus on being with family, feeling physically healthy and “normal” again.
I have friends who are currently going through treatment. And you can bet that they would give anything to not have to be there, in the same way that I would have when it was happening to me. Some of my friends may eventually get to the place that I am now; for others, this may be the last stage of their lives.
“All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”  ~Gandalf, The Return of the King
This is not lost on me. In fact, it’s something that I think about a lot. As we approach Thanksgiving, I am very grateful that I’m doing well, not even a full year after completing my last treatment. In addition to my gratitude, however, I carry a lot of guilt. One in eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer during their lifetime. And many will be diagnosed with other cancers or other life-threatening illnesses. At any given time, there are so many of us going through the shock, fear and psychological and physical suffering of various treatments. How can I complain about my lingering discomforts when I have the pleasure of being here and experiencing them?
There are many things that could have been worse for me. But they weren’t. The more time that passes, the less I worry about why I got cancer and wonder more why I am one of the fortunate ones. As difficult as it is to put my cancer experience behind me and move on as if nothing happened, it’s even harder to do so knowing that I am leaving behind others who will not make it.
I’ve met a lot of fellow cancer patients in the infusion room, some with metastatic cancer. There’s one in particular I cannot forget. I’ll call her “Noel” since I met her heading into the 2017 holiday season and her mother privately told me that she wasn’t expected to survive past Christmas. Noel was a friendly and sweet woman with aggressive breast cancer. We chatted about hair regrowth as mine was just barely beginning to come back, and she shared with me Facebook photos of what her hair looked like after her first breast cancer treatments were completed. Eighteen months later, the cancer had returned with a vengeance. Noel was divorced with two pre-adolescent daughters. Her mother told me that as Noel’s situation deteriorated, it also devastated her daughters, who were witnesses to their mother’s decline. Luckily, their father was very supportive and provided as much care and love as he could.
I was heartbroken as I left the infusion room that day. I don’t know ultimately what happened to Noel, although I expect the worst. Cancer is a horrible beast that ravages the patient, but also takes the family down with it. I think, “What a blessing to not have to go through that.” But that thought catches on my conscience. I’m still here; do I deserve to be?
Recounting this story a year later, that guilt weighs even heavier now. I feel an obligation to make good use of the time remaining.
Frantic Shanti 