As I'm lying down, resting, healing (have been for the past couple weeks since my last radio therapy), I can not help but feeling sorry for myself...
I am unwell. Truly, physically unwell. I have not been this unwell ever before in my life.
I am weak, extremely fragile, finding it very hard to walk, sit, stand for longer than 5 minutes at the time... I hardly leave the house these days. Dropping off my daughter to school is an enormous task. Even just visiting the Doctor sometimes too hard ... I can't go down the beach, since I can't walk for more than couple hundred meters. I don't go out to cafes at the moment, since I can't sit properly for more than 5 minutes and it requires way too much of an effort to dress up in the first place...
My favorite place is home, in my recliner. Just lying down, snuggled in a blankie, cups of tea, a nice romantic comedy, my iPhone and 3 comfort meals a day. My only desired company is my beautiful daughter and my loving man...
My emotions are all over the place too.
I mostly feel sad. And frustrated for being so useless. Angry, when I wish to do something and I realise I can't. I also feel scared of losing the vision ...
The vision of being well again.
The numbness in my leg, particularly in my foot, is much easier to handle than the pain, but yet it's hard to deal with when trying to move around. Or even just putting clothes on. It requires much too much effort.
The tingling sensation in my chin is scary. Scary because it's been there before, about a year ago. And soon after that, there came cancer diagnosis in my chin, scull and tumors in my brain. The tingling went away after radio treatment, but came back recently ... Does that mean cancer in my chin is back?
We were meant to be in Thailand at the moment. A three weeks long warm sunny tropical family holiday. Creating lovely memories. Well, we are not there, because I'm too unwell. The trip has been postponed till mid September. Something to look forward to. But I want to be well! I want to be healthy. I want to be pain free, numbness free, feeling well, energetic, and full of life. Possibly on a very low dose of medication, no steroids. Will I?
Another challenge is my hair. It's been over 6 weeks since my chemotherapy. My body hair is slowly coming back, but my hair is staying so very thin... It's just horrible. I cut it short the other day to get rid of that horrid 'zombie' hair look. But didn't do it any justice. Now all my bright red subcutaneous tumors (which are placed all over my scull) are obvious and are visibly popping out... Not a good look. Scary, really.
I look unwell. I feel unwell.
And I had enough! I am exhausted. Exhausted of needing to make important decisions on my future treatments, exhausted of feeling old, fragile, unhealthy, weak, unstable, uncertain.... And sick of seeing someone else in a reflection when I look in the mirror.
My only wish is to feel well.
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label emotions. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Like A Yo-Yo
Coming off steroids isn't fun. I feel annoyed, shaky inside, weak on the outside. Still moon faced, horribly bloated and being very thin haired doesn't help.
The good part is, I am reducing the steroids. Hopefully I can go down to zero. That's the goal. At the moment I'm down to 3mg, from original 4mg.
The above was written about 4 weeks ago now...
Since than, all has changed. Again.
As I reduced the steroids down to 2.5mg, the pain returned with the vengeance. So I quickly increased the dose back up. And up. And up, to the old 4mg....
There goes my excitement of getting rid of the drug.
The worst part is, once the pain comes back (with the vengeance), it likes to take a very long time to settle. And by saying very long time, I mean weeks! It's happened previously and it's the third time now. I hope to have learned the lesson.
Back to the pain... Yet again! That horrid pain that keeps me up at night, makes me pop extra pills like lollies. The pain that makes me cry out loud for hours, makes me angry, frustrated, uncentered, irritated... It makes me not being able to concentrate and makes me tired, sleepy, cranky, upset, unsettled, sad, sometimes doubtful, unable to meditate .... The kind of pain that pretty much takes over my existence.
I now know it's temporarily, but that doesn't make it any easier. Easier to handle emotionally perhaps, but not physically. It is just plain hard.
In one of those moments of pain, this insight came by:
'We are never given what we are not able to handle'
Blah, blah, blah... I thought at the time, since I was in agony and I didn't feel like I was handling it at all.
But, here I am. Yes, I am strong, positive, determined and I love life, no matter. I love life so much, that no matter how bad my pain, I am willing to handle it. Handle it in any way I possibly can. I am doing whatever it takes to get well again.
Like a Yo-Yo, that's my life at the moment. And the moment seems to last forever ...
But that's it, I suppose. No matter how bad it is, there are million things around me every day, reminding me how precious and beautiful my life is.
The nature with its crisp ocean breeze, my family with the warmth of hugs and kisses, or lovely self-initiated 'I love you's by my daughter, the deliciousness of fresh, nutritious food, the fun times filled with laughter, surrounded by my dear friends, ....
All different things, great and small. In every moment of our life. Things considered good and the ones considered bad. All together, woven into this amazing journey called life.
And I decide to accept it all. Including pain.
I decide to stay right here, right now, being present in this very moment. Accepting every bit of it, as much as I possibly can. After all, Yo-Yos are meant to be fun, aren't they?
The good part is, I am reducing the steroids. Hopefully I can go down to zero. That's the goal. At the moment I'm down to 3mg, from original 4mg.
The above was written about 4 weeks ago now...
Since than, all has changed. Again.
As I reduced the steroids down to 2.5mg, the pain returned with the vengeance. So I quickly increased the dose back up. And up. And up, to the old 4mg....
There goes my excitement of getting rid of the drug.
The worst part is, once the pain comes back (with the vengeance), it likes to take a very long time to settle. And by saying very long time, I mean weeks! It's happened previously and it's the third time now. I hope to have learned the lesson.
Back to the pain... Yet again! That horrid pain that keeps me up at night, makes me pop extra pills like lollies. The pain that makes me cry out loud for hours, makes me angry, frustrated, uncentered, irritated... It makes me not being able to concentrate and makes me tired, sleepy, cranky, upset, unsettled, sad, sometimes doubtful, unable to meditate .... The kind of pain that pretty much takes over my existence.
I now know it's temporarily, but that doesn't make it any easier. Easier to handle emotionally perhaps, but not physically. It is just plain hard.
In one of those moments of pain, this insight came by:
'We are never given what we are not able to handle'
Blah, blah, blah... I thought at the time, since I was in agony and I didn't feel like I was handling it at all.
But, here I am. Yes, I am strong, positive, determined and I love life, no matter. I love life so much, that no matter how bad my pain, I am willing to handle it. Handle it in any way I possibly can. I am doing whatever it takes to get well again.
Like a Yo-Yo, that's my life at the moment. And the moment seems to last forever ...
But that's it, I suppose. No matter how bad it is, there are million things around me every day, reminding me how precious and beautiful my life is.
The nature with its crisp ocean breeze, my family with the warmth of hugs and kisses, or lovely self-initiated 'I love you's by my daughter, the deliciousness of fresh, nutritious food, the fun times filled with laughter, surrounded by my dear friends, ....
All different things, great and small. In every moment of our life. Things considered good and the ones considered bad. All together, woven into this amazing journey called life.
And I decide to accept it all. Including pain.
I decide to stay right here, right now, being present in this very moment. Accepting every bit of it, as much as I possibly can. After all, Yo-Yos are meant to be fun, aren't they?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Are You Driven By Fear or Driven By Love
I have recently read a book called Dying To Be Me by Anita Moorjani. I have read quite a few books over the past year, while being on my healing journey. I am not a very keen reader, however there is an occasional book I come across that really grabs me straight away and makes me contemplate. The book Dying To Be Me was one of them. The book itself talks about the near death experience and the importance of love. The 'love' part really made me contemplate.
What is love? How do I define love? Is there such thing as the definition of love, or is love greater than that? How do love and life interconnect?
I get the 'in love' part, when you meet someone and you fall in love... And I get the parent - child immeasurable, unconditional love, too. It's just there, it came to me somewhat naturally. But that greater love that this particular book is talking about, just as many other books on spiritual growth, that pure love within, love that blends into the universe, the infinite power of love that we supposed to all have within.... Well, that part I found extremely complicated and confusing.
So, as I do, I opened myself yet again to the universe to deliver the answer.
And then, during the meditation this morning, something happened. Two words came to me. Love & Fear. And I feel I am now beginning to understand.
I realised I have been driven by fear most of my life. From a very superficial decision making in the past such as what to wear to work (so that I am presentable and so that others think well of me) to more recent and very important decision making such as having chemotherapy or not. There are other examples such as what to eat at meal times, attending social events (that I might not necessary feel like attending), visiting in-laws, going to the office when I felt like I am exhausted and all I wanted and needed was a rest, cleaning the house (although all would wait and nothing would have significantly changed if I didn't) and so on....
Most, if not all of the above decisions were definitely driven by fear. Fear of what other people might think of me, fear of losing my job, not being able to pay mortgage or fear of disappointing friends, in-laws, myself etc or in my case later on - the fear of cancer coming back and more recently, the fear of cancer spreading...
I now know that every single thing I have ever thought of as 'I have to do' or 'I have no choice' or the 'just in case' was (and still is) driven by fear.
And that means that even though I have dealt with the fear of dying or the fear of cancer returning or living with cancer, I still have million superficial fears I need to learn to deal with.
So I openly and extremely happily embrace this morning's revelation that love is in fact replacing the actions driven by fear with the actions that are driven by love and only by love.
I am not sure if any of the above makes sense to you, but to me, it is an enormous and a very significant insight. I feel like I have reached a very important milestone on my healing journey and I couldn't wait to sit down to be able to write it down and have it recorded to remind myself over and over again...
I now know what love is. I finally get it.
Love is huge. Love is so big that we can't possibly define it in a sentence. Love is all and everything. Therefore all I do from now on will be questioned:
Is this action of mine driven by love or is it driven by fear?
My bone pain (caused by cancer) has returned recently, after I started to reduce my painkillers, so I did experience another set back. But this time it was different. Not in a way of intensity of the pain. The pain was just as bad as it was previously when around. I was in absolute agony. And I still am in pain, but it is getting better again, since I have learned to manage it well. The difference this time was my reaction to it. I reacted differently. I let go much easier and much faster than in the past. I also asked for help much faster and I found a possible solution, another bout of radiotherapy.
So today, on my way to my radio-oncologist I asked myself:
'Is this treatment to get rid of pain driven by fear or is it driven by love?'
How can a radiotherapy treatment be driven by love you may think? Well, it actually can. In my case, right now, it is. I love life. I love being active. I love being able to go for a walk on the beach, cycle with my daughter, go on a road trip with my family, a flight to exotic holiday destination.... I love cooking, sitting down, lounging around, doing arts and crafts.... These are only a few things that I absolutely love. And all of these things are compromised when in pain. Radiotherapy will fix my pain as it has in the past. So yes, here I come, driven by love! The love to life I absolutely love living and only the life I love, nothing else.
And so my life will head in the direction filled with love, from now on, always and forever.
How about yours?
What is love? How do I define love? Is there such thing as the definition of love, or is love greater than that? How do love and life interconnect?
I get the 'in love' part, when you meet someone and you fall in love... And I get the parent - child immeasurable, unconditional love, too. It's just there, it came to me somewhat naturally. But that greater love that this particular book is talking about, just as many other books on spiritual growth, that pure love within, love that blends into the universe, the infinite power of love that we supposed to all have within.... Well, that part I found extremely complicated and confusing.
So, as I do, I opened myself yet again to the universe to deliver the answer.
And then, during the meditation this morning, something happened. Two words came to me. Love & Fear. And I feel I am now beginning to understand.
I realised I have been driven by fear most of my life. From a very superficial decision making in the past such as what to wear to work (so that I am presentable and so that others think well of me) to more recent and very important decision making such as having chemotherapy or not. There are other examples such as what to eat at meal times, attending social events (that I might not necessary feel like attending), visiting in-laws, going to the office when I felt like I am exhausted and all I wanted and needed was a rest, cleaning the house (although all would wait and nothing would have significantly changed if I didn't) and so on....
Most, if not all of the above decisions were definitely driven by fear. Fear of what other people might think of me, fear of losing my job, not being able to pay mortgage or fear of disappointing friends, in-laws, myself etc or in my case later on - the fear of cancer coming back and more recently, the fear of cancer spreading...
I now know that every single thing I have ever thought of as 'I have to do' or 'I have no choice' or the 'just in case' was (and still is) driven by fear.
And that means that even though I have dealt with the fear of dying or the fear of cancer returning or living with cancer, I still have million superficial fears I need to learn to deal with.
So I openly and extremely happily embrace this morning's revelation that love is in fact replacing the actions driven by fear with the actions that are driven by love and only by love.
I am not sure if any of the above makes sense to you, but to me, it is an enormous and a very significant insight. I feel like I have reached a very important milestone on my healing journey and I couldn't wait to sit down to be able to write it down and have it recorded to remind myself over and over again...
I now know what love is. I finally get it.
Love is huge. Love is so big that we can't possibly define it in a sentence. Love is all and everything. Therefore all I do from now on will be questioned:
Is this action of mine driven by love or is it driven by fear?
My bone pain (caused by cancer) has returned recently, after I started to reduce my painkillers, so I did experience another set back. But this time it was different. Not in a way of intensity of the pain. The pain was just as bad as it was previously when around. I was in absolute agony. And I still am in pain, but it is getting better again, since I have learned to manage it well. The difference this time was my reaction to it. I reacted differently. I let go much easier and much faster than in the past. I also asked for help much faster and I found a possible solution, another bout of radiotherapy.
So today, on my way to my radio-oncologist I asked myself:
'Is this treatment to get rid of pain driven by fear or is it driven by love?'
How can a radiotherapy treatment be driven by love you may think? Well, it actually can. In my case, right now, it is. I love life. I love being active. I love being able to go for a walk on the beach, cycle with my daughter, go on a road trip with my family, a flight to exotic holiday destination.... I love cooking, sitting down, lounging around, doing arts and crafts.... These are only a few things that I absolutely love. And all of these things are compromised when in pain. Radiotherapy will fix my pain as it has in the past. So yes, here I come, driven by love! The love to life I absolutely love living and only the life I love, nothing else.
And so my life will head in the direction filled with love, from now on, always and forever.
How about yours?
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Midnight Monologue (With The Pain)
Why are you here?
What is it that you are telling me?
What am I supposed to do?
How am I supposed to treat you?
How can I possibly just 'be with it' when it hurts so bad?
Is it the leftover pain from within that needs to be let go off? Perhaps acknowledged properly first?
Let go off pain - how? With tears? That seems to help, but only if in a combination of painkiller top ups, monologues like this one and the number of mixed emotions (from deep sadness and helplessness to indescribable frustration and anger) ....
I am acknowledging how blessed I am with my life in the now. I am so blessed to have most loving & caring man & most amazing daughter, my perfect family. Beautiful friends. In the now.
But it wasn't always like that. My past life was unpleasant. My childhood was filled with domestic violence and abuse on all levels. It was almost a complete opposite to my current life. I believe I dealt with all that a long time ago. I believe I have moved on.
Practicing mindfulness, should I keep going back to try and explore all my past wounds further? Randomly or intentionally? Only if the feelings arise or regardless - even when all seems perfect in the now?
I seriously feel I have moved on. Definitely don't feel stuck.
But perhaps I am, on a subconscious level, without realizing?
Perhaps that's what the pain is all about? The leftover of deeply seeded hurt, guilt, fear and anger from my childhood years.
Although I don't feel the guilt, nor fear or anger at present anymore, it could as well be still there, cemented somewhere deep down, and coming out as a horrid & unbearable pain. Is that possible?
Perhaps the right answer truly is: let it be ... and then: let it go
I'm here in Melbourne for a weekend meditation workshop as I'm writing this post. And it's not just any kind of meditation workshop. It's The Mind That Changes Everything, run by Ian Gawler, one of the key inspirations and teachers on my healing journey. I feel so blessed to be able to attend this workshop. And it might as well be perfect timing for my pain to have returned and possibly given me the opportunity to explore it into details, acknowledge it & accept it, (dare I say it) embrace it and finally possibly let it go .... This time for good?
Or perhaps I need to learn to live with it in a loving manner.
Learning to love the pain, well , that's a huge challenge I would love to conquer! So I now open myself to the universe to send me the message once again, to lighten the right path so I can keep heading into the right direction.
Affirmation:
I now lovingly accept every single bit of myself, from my appearance, to my thoughts, feelings and emotions, including aches and pains.
All is me & I am all. Only because of it ALL, I've been moulded into the magnificent person I am today.
What is it that you are telling me?
What am I supposed to do?
How am I supposed to treat you?
How can I possibly just 'be with it' when it hurts so bad?
Is it the leftover pain from within that needs to be let go off? Perhaps acknowledged properly first?
Let go off pain - how? With tears? That seems to help, but only if in a combination of painkiller top ups, monologues like this one and the number of mixed emotions (from deep sadness and helplessness to indescribable frustration and anger) ....
I am acknowledging how blessed I am with my life in the now. I am so blessed to have most loving & caring man & most amazing daughter, my perfect family. Beautiful friends. In the now.
But it wasn't always like that. My past life was unpleasant. My childhood was filled with domestic violence and abuse on all levels. It was almost a complete opposite to my current life. I believe I dealt with all that a long time ago. I believe I have moved on.
Practicing mindfulness, should I keep going back to try and explore all my past wounds further? Randomly or intentionally? Only if the feelings arise or regardless - even when all seems perfect in the now?
I seriously feel I have moved on. Definitely don't feel stuck.
But perhaps I am, on a subconscious level, without realizing?
Perhaps that's what the pain is all about? The leftover of deeply seeded hurt, guilt, fear and anger from my childhood years.
Although I don't feel the guilt, nor fear or anger at present anymore, it could as well be still there, cemented somewhere deep down, and coming out as a horrid & unbearable pain. Is that possible?
Perhaps the right answer truly is: let it be ... and then: let it go
I'm here in Melbourne for a weekend meditation workshop as I'm writing this post. And it's not just any kind of meditation workshop. It's The Mind That Changes Everything, run by Ian Gawler, one of the key inspirations and teachers on my healing journey. I feel so blessed to be able to attend this workshop. And it might as well be perfect timing for my pain to have returned and possibly given me the opportunity to explore it into details, acknowledge it & accept it, (dare I say it) embrace it and finally possibly let it go .... This time for good?
Or perhaps I need to learn to live with it in a loving manner.
Learning to love the pain, well , that's a huge challenge I would love to conquer! So I now open myself to the universe to send me the message once again, to lighten the right path so I can keep heading into the right direction.
Affirmation:
I now lovingly accept every single bit of myself, from my appearance, to my thoughts, feelings and emotions, including aches and pains.
All is me & I am all. Only because of it ALL, I've been moulded into the magnificent person I am today.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Swimming In The Pond Of Doubts
Just as every night, I was on Twitter last night. @TinaVis is my Twitter ID.
I came across this article from the blog of Karen Pendy, a beautiful, positive and happy young woman, who recently passed away at the age of 37, from advanced breast cancer which had spread to her brain...
To some of you, who may have read my previous posts, the story of tumors that had spread into brain sounds familiar. Yes. I also was faced with that very same diagnosis. Interestingly, very similar age, too!
Needless to say, reading about her passing only 5 months after the diagnosis, left me slightly overwhelmed. It made me feel sad, a bit disappointed, a bit scared and definitely doubtful.
On the other hand, it did reinforce my positivity, since my scan last November showed my brain as all clear and I am still here on planet Earth, feeling well and getting better each and every day.
I know my prognosis is not bright, but I am filled with hope. And I know I am not the average person who falls into statistics.
Not only that... I strongly believe in the power of mind and my mind is telling me I am a long term survivor. Long term is considered 10+ years in the cancer world and I am convinced I can (and I will) achieve that.
But my hope is telling me I will be around for much longer, to see my beautiful (now 5 year old) daughter grow up and live fulfilling adult life, to grow old together with my beautiful man, to travel the world, to inspire people, to accomplish many things I have set myself to accomplish...
A month ago, or even a week ago, I would have said, there is no doubt about it... However, after reading the post last night, the doubt crept up on me. I woke up my man, started the 'midnight' conversation and cried out the fears. But the doubts stayed. Same old, same old...
What if I'm fooling myself?
What if my mind is tricking me?
What if my brain tumors come back?
What if my Doctors say: 'there's nothing else we can do' ?
Has anyone ever survived for more than 5 years after brain mets were diagnosed? Anyone???
Am I lucky enough to be that one of the very rare few (if there are any at all)?
Am I disillusioned?
And the list goes on...
I am swimming in the pond of doubts.
All I need now from myself is clarity and all I want from others is the belief and encouragement.
I will gain the clarity, I know how, but I am asking you all to send some belief and encouragement my way.
And I will be forever grateful.
Love to you all x
I came across this article from the blog of Karen Pendy, a beautiful, positive and happy young woman, who recently passed away at the age of 37, from advanced breast cancer which had spread to her brain...
To some of you, who may have read my previous posts, the story of tumors that had spread into brain sounds familiar. Yes. I also was faced with that very same diagnosis. Interestingly, very similar age, too!
Needless to say, reading about her passing only 5 months after the diagnosis, left me slightly overwhelmed. It made me feel sad, a bit disappointed, a bit scared and definitely doubtful.
On the other hand, it did reinforce my positivity, since my scan last November showed my brain as all clear and I am still here on planet Earth, feeling well and getting better each and every day.
I know my prognosis is not bright, but I am filled with hope. And I know I am not the average person who falls into statistics.
Not only that... I strongly believe in the power of mind and my mind is telling me I am a long term survivor. Long term is considered 10+ years in the cancer world and I am convinced I can (and I will) achieve that.
But my hope is telling me I will be around for much longer, to see my beautiful (now 5 year old) daughter grow up and live fulfilling adult life, to grow old together with my beautiful man, to travel the world, to inspire people, to accomplish many things I have set myself to accomplish...
A month ago, or even a week ago, I would have said, there is no doubt about it... However, after reading the post last night, the doubt crept up on me. I woke up my man, started the 'midnight' conversation and cried out the fears. But the doubts stayed. Same old, same old...
What if I'm fooling myself?
What if my mind is tricking me?
What if my brain tumors come back?
What if my Doctors say: 'there's nothing else we can do' ?
Has anyone ever survived for more than 5 years after brain mets were diagnosed? Anyone???
Am I lucky enough to be that one of the very rare few (if there are any at all)?
Am I disillusioned?
And the list goes on...
I am swimming in the pond of doubts.
All I need now from myself is clarity and all I want from others is the belief and encouragement.
I will gain the clarity, I know how, but I am asking you all to send some belief and encouragement my way.
And I will be forever grateful.
Love to you all x
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Chemotherapy - oh how I dislike you!
I had the second round of the fifth cycle of chemotherapy today. Initially, I was going to have four cycles. Then to be re-assessed and prescribed another two to five rounds if needed. However, I had a couple of lengthy four weeks breaks in between (instead of just one week), that I decided to take myself, so I tailored my treatment by myself, without Doctor's consent. Gutsy, hey?!?
Since I've already had two lots of chemotherapy four years ago, I knew taking breaks doesn't make a difference to the whole treatment regime. Chemotherapy is such powerful and poisonous thing, it stays in your system for years.
Since diagnosed for the second time in December 2010, chemotherapy was the one and only most threatening thing for me next to the possibility of dying. The fear of death first, chemotherapy the close second. It was the thing I decided not to ever experience again. It is indescribably horrid. And unless you have experienced having chemotherapy yourself, you would not have a clue how horrid it is. Everything. From the actual place where you sit to get your chemotherapy drugs administered, the process of it, the all sickly looking people around you (no offence, but mostly older by at least 20 years in my case!), the lights, the smell, the outfits that chemotherapy nurses wear (which look like they are dealing with the nuclear weapon), the actual process of waiting for the poisonous liquid to flow through the veins, all the pills for possible side effects... It is all just plain horrid and it feels wrong. On so many levels.
I was postponing my chemotherapy until even after I had 5 tumors removed from my brain in July 2011, all the way to November 2011, when my vertebrae collapsed the second time in a year and pretty much every single Doctor (the total of five!) told me to have a go or else I could end up in a wheelchair...
So I listened and I opened myself to it.
Needless to say, on the night before the first round of the first cycle of chemotherapy, I felt extremely nervous, irritated and stressed. I pretty much couldn't do anything. To try and practice mindfulness seemed impossible. However I did think of an excellent exercise called 'Inner Peace' I read about in the book called The Mind That Changes Everything. It is a visualisation meditation which can help you find the inner peace under most irritating circumstances.
And the most amazing thing happened.
As I was led into the exercise (by my loving man), an amazing bright light shone all over me. It was strong, warm and extremely powerful. It felt totally safe to be surrounded by it. And as it shone, it started shrinking, closing in on me, closer and closer, until it went inside of me and all over my body, shrinking and shrinking, ending up inside my heart, a powerful, warm light shining... Inside me. I felt calm, safe and 100% certain all is as it is supposed to be. I am doing the right thing.
My trip to the chemotherapy session the next day was accompanied by peace and all was feeling right, smooth and healing. Even my lumps have visibly started shrinking in the two weeks afterwards. And when my hair started falling out, it only thinned and not fell out completely...
But then, after the second cycle , I had a meltdown and hit the wall. The lumps stopped shrinking, I started finding it very hard to be 'embracing' chemotherapy and the feeling of it being horrid came back...
That horrible hostile feeling hasn't left since. If anything, it intensified.
Today, as I was sitting in the waiting room for way too long, my thoughts started playing up. I wanted it to be all finished. I hated being there. I couldn't stand sitting there, getting that horrid poison into my veins, possibly for the second last time ever, but still...
My check up (including the full body bone scan to assess the progress of the treatment) is approaching and I started questioning everything.
What if all these didn't work?
I still have the same amount of visible lumps. They aren't any bigger, but I am not so sure if they've gotten any smaller. I am back on the same dose of pain medication I was at the beginning of chemotherapy, while it should have been reduced by now... I am mentally not at that peaceful place I was at before I started chemotherapy and my physical body has yet again been poisoned, completely, by some horribly heavy drugs, which are having numerous side effects (and possibly no benefits) and my body has even changed visibly in the shape. Some extremely serious things are happening!
I had another mini meltdown.
I took off, sat in the car and cried out loud. I felt sorry for myself. I questioned the universe yet again: why me???
But the mini meltdown finished fast. I went in, had my chemo and I'm coming back next Tuesday for (what I decided to be) the last one (possibly ever!), regardless of the results of my scan.
I know there are many other options out there for me to explore, pursue and embrace if I have to.
Since I've already had two lots of chemotherapy four years ago, I knew taking breaks doesn't make a difference to the whole treatment regime. Chemotherapy is such powerful and poisonous thing, it stays in your system for years.
Since diagnosed for the second time in December 2010, chemotherapy was the one and only most threatening thing for me next to the possibility of dying. The fear of death first, chemotherapy the close second. It was the thing I decided not to ever experience again. It is indescribably horrid. And unless you have experienced having chemotherapy yourself, you would not have a clue how horrid it is. Everything. From the actual place where you sit to get your chemotherapy drugs administered, the process of it, the all sickly looking people around you (no offence, but mostly older by at least 20 years in my case!), the lights, the smell, the outfits that chemotherapy nurses wear (which look like they are dealing with the nuclear weapon), the actual process of waiting for the poisonous liquid to flow through the veins, all the pills for possible side effects... It is all just plain horrid and it feels wrong. On so many levels.
I was postponing my chemotherapy until even after I had 5 tumors removed from my brain in July 2011, all the way to November 2011, when my vertebrae collapsed the second time in a year and pretty much every single Doctor (the total of five!) told me to have a go or else I could end up in a wheelchair...
So I listened and I opened myself to it.
Needless to say, on the night before the first round of the first cycle of chemotherapy, I felt extremely nervous, irritated and stressed. I pretty much couldn't do anything. To try and practice mindfulness seemed impossible. However I did think of an excellent exercise called 'Inner Peace' I read about in the book called The Mind That Changes Everything. It is a visualisation meditation which can help you find the inner peace under most irritating circumstances.
And the most amazing thing happened.
As I was led into the exercise (by my loving man), an amazing bright light shone all over me. It was strong, warm and extremely powerful. It felt totally safe to be surrounded by it. And as it shone, it started shrinking, closing in on me, closer and closer, until it went inside of me and all over my body, shrinking and shrinking, ending up inside my heart, a powerful, warm light shining... Inside me. I felt calm, safe and 100% certain all is as it is supposed to be. I am doing the right thing.
My trip to the chemotherapy session the next day was accompanied by peace and all was feeling right, smooth and healing. Even my lumps have visibly started shrinking in the two weeks afterwards. And when my hair started falling out, it only thinned and not fell out completely...
But then, after the second cycle , I had a meltdown and hit the wall. The lumps stopped shrinking, I started finding it very hard to be 'embracing' chemotherapy and the feeling of it being horrid came back...
That horrible hostile feeling hasn't left since. If anything, it intensified.
Today, as I was sitting in the waiting room for way too long, my thoughts started playing up. I wanted it to be all finished. I hated being there. I couldn't stand sitting there, getting that horrid poison into my veins, possibly for the second last time ever, but still...
My check up (including the full body bone scan to assess the progress of the treatment) is approaching and I started questioning everything.
What if all these didn't work?
I still have the same amount of visible lumps. They aren't any bigger, but I am not so sure if they've gotten any smaller. I am back on the same dose of pain medication I was at the beginning of chemotherapy, while it should have been reduced by now... I am mentally not at that peaceful place I was at before I started chemotherapy and my physical body has yet again been poisoned, completely, by some horribly heavy drugs, which are having numerous side effects (and possibly no benefits) and my body has even changed visibly in the shape. Some extremely serious things are happening!
I had another mini meltdown.
I took off, sat in the car and cried out loud. I felt sorry for myself. I questioned the universe yet again: why me???
But the mini meltdown finished fast. I went in, had my chemo and I'm coming back next Tuesday for (what I decided to be) the last one (possibly ever!), regardless of the results of my scan.
I know there are many other options out there for me to explore, pursue and embrace if I have to.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Hope
The definition of HOPE: " A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen."
When you are faced with the diagnosis of advanced cancer (the cancer that has spread through different parts of the body), or any other seriously life threatening disease, hope is the one and only most important starting point. There is absolutely nothing without hope. No hope, no future.
When I heard my GP voicing the words: "I'm afraid the Xray results show the cancer has come back... " all went completely and absolutely blank. All. Everything disappeared and I was in a deep, empty, dark, black hole, nothing and no one with me, next to me, nor around me. I was in a total state of shock.
The one and only thing I remember to feel was an enormous fear. The fear of death. And an instant question arised: "how long before I die?"
I felt completely powerless, helpless, scared and utterly mortal.
Although always considering myself as a strong person with a solution to any problem thrown at me, at that very moment of the diagnosis, I was completely blank. Totally blinded by it. There was no answer, no solution, no potential plan, absolutely no hope...
All I could think of, when the initial shock settled slightly, was something to help me get through a week of pre-christmas celebrations we had lined up. So I asked my GP for sedatives.
Then, after few days of hazily and hopelessly wandering around under the influence of Valium, I decided to make a trip to the bookshop.
As I browsed through the shelves, a book called You Can Conquer Cancer jumped right out to my attention, and I decided to buy it.
The very next day we travelled to the beautiful Castaway Island in Fiji for our christmas holiday. I stopped taking Valium and started reading the book. It only took a page to fill me up with hope.
And there we are - HOPE!
Hope to me right then and there presented the shift of my feelings from being completely powerless, helpless, scared and utterly mortal, to:
Hope made me get rid of fear and uncertainty about the future, and instead makes me dream, plan, start doing and keep focusing on the joys of living. It makes me see the future bright and clear, no matter what obstacles (and there are many on my journey) I encounter. With hope within me, I feel safe and certain that no matter what comes my way in the future, all will be well, always.
When you are faced with the diagnosis of advanced cancer (the cancer that has spread through different parts of the body), or any other seriously life threatening disease, hope is the one and only most important starting point. There is absolutely nothing without hope. No hope, no future.
When I heard my GP voicing the words: "I'm afraid the Xray results show the cancer has come back... " all went completely and absolutely blank. All. Everything disappeared and I was in a deep, empty, dark, black hole, nothing and no one with me, next to me, nor around me. I was in a total state of shock.
The one and only thing I remember to feel was an enormous fear. The fear of death. And an instant question arised: "how long before I die?"
I felt completely powerless, helpless, scared and utterly mortal.
Although always considering myself as a strong person with a solution to any problem thrown at me, at that very moment of the diagnosis, I was completely blank. Totally blinded by it. There was no answer, no solution, no potential plan, absolutely no hope...
All I could think of, when the initial shock settled slightly, was something to help me get through a week of pre-christmas celebrations we had lined up. So I asked my GP for sedatives.
Then, after few days of hazily and hopelessly wandering around under the influence of Valium, I decided to make a trip to the bookshop.
As I browsed through the shelves, a book called You Can Conquer Cancer jumped right out to my attention, and I decided to buy it.
The very next day we travelled to the beautiful Castaway Island in Fiji for our christmas holiday. I stopped taking Valium and started reading the book. It only took a page to fill me up with hope.
And there we are - HOPE!
Hope to me right then and there presented the shift of my feelings from being completely powerless, helpless, scared and utterly mortal, to:
- start seeing the little sparkle of possibility of survival
- getting answers to million questions
- seeing the path to possible solutions
- opening the options of numerous treatments available
- opportunity for an enormous lifestyle change
- finding the positives to lean on
- million reasons to keep believing in positives
- finding the strength to not give in to the prognosis
- determination to stick to my new healthy life-style change
- love to life, myself and to people around me
- and the list goes on
Hope made me get rid of fear and uncertainty about the future, and instead makes me dream, plan, start doing and keep focusing on the joys of living. It makes me see the future bright and clear, no matter what obstacles (and there are many on my journey) I encounter. With hope within me, I feel safe and certain that no matter what comes my way in the future, all will be well, always.
Monday, March 5, 2012
"That which does not kill us makes us stronger"
We are all familiar with the above quote by Friedrich Nietzsche.
Yes, we all kind of believe that, don't we? Well, at least I do. The quote itself makes me feel pretty good about myself. Thinking through the words, makes me feel more at ease travelling through challenges of life. And the word 'stronger' makes me feel powerful...
But yet on occasion, I think to myself: 'What the...?'
How strong do some of us have to be? How strong will I be by the end of my life? What if I'm now content as I am, strong enough, that's it, finished, all done and dusted... ?!?! I need no more!
Unfortunately life doesn't work that way. There is no remote control to press 'pause', not even for a moment. Or perhaps there is, and that 'pause' button is actually the 'mindfulness meditation'? The time we take to just sit still for half an hour or so and do absolutely nothing. Pause. In the present moment. Completely in the now. Nowhere else.
At some points over the past year, I have found myself in that present, peaceful state quite often. It feels so amazing it's addictive.
But yet, more often than not, I find myself stuck in my busy state of mind, caught up in thoughts and with the new learned belief of 'embracing' it all, find myself slightly stressed out when something unpleasant happens and I can't really embrace it. It might make me stronger, yes, but it doesn't mean I have to embrace it.
Today, while talking to my counsellor (I should really call her my mentor instead), I realised I have been putting too much pressure on myself for trying to embrace every single moment of my life. 'Embracing' is a very powerful word and although positive, it can easily turn into negative if you find it difficult to embrace a particular situation that happens. It can cause quite a bit of stress when you are not honest with your emotions towards the circumstance. At least in my case.
I realised earlier today, I don't want to embrace unpleasant things anymore. I am accepting them though. In fact, I've learned to accept everything that came my way so far.
From now on, rather than embracing, I will just BE with it. Be, with whatever comes my way, good, bad, nice, sad, happy, exciting, horrible, annoying, irritating, or whatever else there is...
So back to the quote by Friedrich Nietzsche. Yes, great, I am strong, because I am still alive after numerous challenges of my life that could have killed me. But, how strong do I really need to become? Or better, how strong do I want to be? What if I feel I am now strong enough? Can I ask life to stop throwing the 'life threatenning' challenges at me? Please?!?!
How about you? How strong are you?
Yes, we all kind of believe that, don't we? Well, at least I do. The quote itself makes me feel pretty good about myself. Thinking through the words, makes me feel more at ease travelling through challenges of life. And the word 'stronger' makes me feel powerful...
But yet on occasion, I think to myself: 'What the...?'
How strong do some of us have to be? How strong will I be by the end of my life? What if I'm now content as I am, strong enough, that's it, finished, all done and dusted... ?!?! I need no more!
Unfortunately life doesn't work that way. There is no remote control to press 'pause', not even for a moment. Or perhaps there is, and that 'pause' button is actually the 'mindfulness meditation'? The time we take to just sit still for half an hour or so and do absolutely nothing. Pause. In the present moment. Completely in the now. Nowhere else.
At some points over the past year, I have found myself in that present, peaceful state quite often. It feels so amazing it's addictive.
But yet, more often than not, I find myself stuck in my busy state of mind, caught up in thoughts and with the new learned belief of 'embracing' it all, find myself slightly stressed out when something unpleasant happens and I can't really embrace it. It might make me stronger, yes, but it doesn't mean I have to embrace it.
Today, while talking to my counsellor (I should really call her my mentor instead), I realised I have been putting too much pressure on myself for trying to embrace every single moment of my life. 'Embracing' is a very powerful word and although positive, it can easily turn into negative if you find it difficult to embrace a particular situation that happens. It can cause quite a bit of stress when you are not honest with your emotions towards the circumstance. At least in my case.
I realised earlier today, I don't want to embrace unpleasant things anymore. I am accepting them though. In fact, I've learned to accept everything that came my way so far.
From now on, rather than embracing, I will just BE with it. Be, with whatever comes my way, good, bad, nice, sad, happy, exciting, horrible, annoying, irritating, or whatever else there is...
So back to the quote by Friedrich Nietzsche. Yes, great, I am strong, because I am still alive after numerous challenges of my life that could have killed me. But, how strong do I really need to become? Or better, how strong do I want to be? What if I feel I am now strong enough? Can I ask life to stop throwing the 'life threatenning' challenges at me? Please?!?!
How about you? How strong are you?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The Meltdown
I had a lovely weekend and felt good on a nice summery Monday morning. After dropping off my daughter at school, I needed to do a blood test, which is necessary a day prior my next round of chemotherapy. I had a 'chemo break' last week and was about to start the new (fourth) cycle. Each cycle consists of 3 rounds and 1 week break and I am to have 6 in total. So I am now midway. Great, the countdown begins.
Having chemo is not by any means a good thing. No matter how smooth or well tolerated chemo is, it is an extremely unpleasant experience. My chemo is an IV form and even though it only takes about 45 min to administer, it is not nice to say the least. You sit in a neon lit room of the clinic with many other cancer patients and do nothing but wait until it all flows through your veins. You also get some 'extras', either pills or shots for side effects. You are basically filled up with a variety of legal synthetic drugs.
4 years ago, all of the drugs made me extremely sick for the first 24 hours. In fact so sick, I couldn't share the room with anyone, not even with my daughter or any family member. I couldn't talk, eat, drink or do anything but curl up in bed, in the dark and try to sleep it off. Or else I would have been extremely nauseous.
This time around is much better. Different, newer drugs and much lighter immediate side effects. I feel tired, slightly light headed, looking pale, but still able to do all normal chores like picking up my girl from school and taking her to ballet class, having dinner etc. All good from that part.
But yet, it doesn't feel nowhere near pleasant. I would have never add chemo to my 'to do list'. Honestly, it absolutely sucks (excuse my language) and just the thought of it irritates me.
Anyhow, a day prior each chemo, I need a blood test for Doctor to see my blood and my organs (like kidneys) are well enough to handle the chemicals...
So off I went.
I started really disliking blood tests and needles generally. I've been having way too many over the past couple months. And I think my veins can tell. They seem to go on strike every time I enter the Pathology room, or the Vitamin C room, where I'm getting my weekly high doses of Vitamin C through IV. The nurses are having serious troubles finding my veins.
Yesterday morning, all bright and early, happened again. The nurse missed the vein twice. And it was painful. But more so, it was annoying me. All of a sudden I started feeling physically sick, I thought I was going to faint. I got very hot and covered in sweat. Almost shaky. All I wanted is to get out of there.
I had two nurses giving me attention, wanting to try again... But all I could do was walk out and skip the blood test. I had two band aids on both arms, caused by unsuccessful trials.
I felt physically sick and thought I would faint.
Mentally, I could feel the whole lot of unpleasant emotions arising... Stronger and stronger all the stuff started to come out of somewhere deep inside, right out through my body, to my mind and out of my eyes and through my mouth....
Just as I reached the car, the total meltdown began.
I phoned my man. Out came swear words galore, out came the tears pouring, out came 'why me's, 'not fair's, and more and more F words (*I am not the person who swears, ever, no F words nor similar are in my vocabulary).... They all just came out flooding. Out of, what seemed nowhere... But yet it all came from somewhere deep inside of me. It was a moment of unpleasant emotions and it came pouring out.
When we practice mindfulness, unpleasant emotions like anger, become just another emotion to respond to, not to live in. We learn to observe, not to react.
But yet I reacted. I reacted wholeheartedly, crying, yelling, swearing, almost abusing my innocent man on the phone.
And this is what I've learned:
Practice of mindfulness is a lengthy process and no matter how long you manage to stay in 'the good place', it is (unfortunately) not the destination, but a life long journey, which requires one step at a time. Many steps are easy, and get even easier with practice, as you get 'fitter'. You are walking straight line, flat, relaxed pace. Until all of a sudden, you reach an extremely steep hill, or a huge rock to climb, a fence to jump over, or a slippery wet part, or an icy cold patch, a dangerous curve or perhaps just a little sharp stone...
Each step you take is important.
It's not about trying to control the actual journey, but keeping the determination to stay on the path no matter what comes your way, keeping the pace comfortable, safe, accepting whatever comes your way, no matter how unpleasant the circumstances and emotions associated with experience are.
So I had a meltdown. A complete meltdown I have not expected to have. It all came out, which obviously had to, as it was there, somewhere. I felt much lighter afterwards.
And I didn't let the meltdown consume my whole existence. I didn't drag it on and on. It came all of a sudden, I let it all out, I was a bit surprised, shed few extra tears during the day and wondered where did it all come from? But I also sat down for half an hour, in peace and quite, practicing mindfulness meditation to calm my mind and gain some clarity, mostly on where and why did it all happen.
I didn't get the answer, but did calm down greatly. And I didn't continue trying to analyse it or catastrophise it or making up stories around and about it.
Although I am a complete beginner in the vastness of the mindfulness practice, I did notice a difference in dealing with the meltdown, comparing to my past, pre-cancer life. The best part is, I now feel much lighter and calmer. And yet again, I am at peace.
How about you? How do you deal with the meltdowns? How do you cross the obstacles? Would love to hear!
Having chemo is not by any means a good thing. No matter how smooth or well tolerated chemo is, it is an extremely unpleasant experience. My chemo is an IV form and even though it only takes about 45 min to administer, it is not nice to say the least. You sit in a neon lit room of the clinic with many other cancer patients and do nothing but wait until it all flows through your veins. You also get some 'extras', either pills or shots for side effects. You are basically filled up with a variety of legal synthetic drugs.
4 years ago, all of the drugs made me extremely sick for the first 24 hours. In fact so sick, I couldn't share the room with anyone, not even with my daughter or any family member. I couldn't talk, eat, drink or do anything but curl up in bed, in the dark and try to sleep it off. Or else I would have been extremely nauseous.
This time around is much better. Different, newer drugs and much lighter immediate side effects. I feel tired, slightly light headed, looking pale, but still able to do all normal chores like picking up my girl from school and taking her to ballet class, having dinner etc. All good from that part.
But yet, it doesn't feel nowhere near pleasant. I would have never add chemo to my 'to do list'. Honestly, it absolutely sucks (excuse my language) and just the thought of it irritates me.
Anyhow, a day prior each chemo, I need a blood test for Doctor to see my blood and my organs (like kidneys) are well enough to handle the chemicals...
So off I went.
I started really disliking blood tests and needles generally. I've been having way too many over the past couple months. And I think my veins can tell. They seem to go on strike every time I enter the Pathology room, or the Vitamin C room, where I'm getting my weekly high doses of Vitamin C through IV. The nurses are having serious troubles finding my veins.
Yesterday morning, all bright and early, happened again. The nurse missed the vein twice. And it was painful. But more so, it was annoying me. All of a sudden I started feeling physically sick, I thought I was going to faint. I got very hot and covered in sweat. Almost shaky. All I wanted is to get out of there.
I had two nurses giving me attention, wanting to try again... But all I could do was walk out and skip the blood test. I had two band aids on both arms, caused by unsuccessful trials.
I felt physically sick and thought I would faint.
Mentally, I could feel the whole lot of unpleasant emotions arising... Stronger and stronger all the stuff started to come out of somewhere deep inside, right out through my body, to my mind and out of my eyes and through my mouth....
Just as I reached the car, the total meltdown began.
I phoned my man. Out came swear words galore, out came the tears pouring, out came 'why me's, 'not fair's, and more and more F words (*I am not the person who swears, ever, no F words nor similar are in my vocabulary).... They all just came out flooding. Out of, what seemed nowhere... But yet it all came from somewhere deep inside of me. It was a moment of unpleasant emotions and it came pouring out.
When we practice mindfulness, unpleasant emotions like anger, become just another emotion to respond to, not to live in. We learn to observe, not to react.
But yet I reacted. I reacted wholeheartedly, crying, yelling, swearing, almost abusing my innocent man on the phone.
And this is what I've learned:
Practice of mindfulness is a lengthy process and no matter how long you manage to stay in 'the good place', it is (unfortunately) not the destination, but a life long journey, which requires one step at a time. Many steps are easy, and get even easier with practice, as you get 'fitter'. You are walking straight line, flat, relaxed pace. Until all of a sudden, you reach an extremely steep hill, or a huge rock to climb, a fence to jump over, or a slippery wet part, or an icy cold patch, a dangerous curve or perhaps just a little sharp stone...
Each step you take is important.
It's not about trying to control the actual journey, but keeping the determination to stay on the path no matter what comes your way, keeping the pace comfortable, safe, accepting whatever comes your way, no matter how unpleasant the circumstances and emotions associated with experience are.
So I had a meltdown. A complete meltdown I have not expected to have. It all came out, which obviously had to, as it was there, somewhere. I felt much lighter afterwards.
And I didn't let the meltdown consume my whole existence. I didn't drag it on and on. It came all of a sudden, I let it all out, I was a bit surprised, shed few extra tears during the day and wondered where did it all come from? But I also sat down for half an hour, in peace and quite, practicing mindfulness meditation to calm my mind and gain some clarity, mostly on where and why did it all happen.
I didn't get the answer, but did calm down greatly. And I didn't continue trying to analyse it or catastrophise it or making up stories around and about it.
Although I am a complete beginner in the vastness of the mindfulness practice, I did notice a difference in dealing with the meltdown, comparing to my past, pre-cancer life. The best part is, I now feel much lighter and calmer. And yet again, I am at peace.
How about you? How do you deal with the meltdowns? How do you cross the obstacles? Would love to hear!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
How Are You Today?
I am sure we all loose count on how many times during one day we are asked the 'how are you'? Or how many times we ask someone.
From random people we bump into or somehow cross paths with (taxi / bus drivers, counter service at local cafe / shop...) or people closer to us such as our work colleagues, to people we love -our dear friends and loving family members.
It is not a big deal and it usually goes something like this:
'Hi, how are you?'
'Good, thanks, and you?'
We most commonly don't expect the answer or really care to hear it and reply, perhaps start the conversation... It is quite a superficial, but yet polite way of communicating in today's society.
Unfortunately (but sometimes fortunately) it all changes when you live affected by cancer.
Random superficial 'how are you's are sort of still the same.... Not a great deal. No expectations on the answer. But when it comes to people you know, they mostly really sincerely wish to know how you are. I am not sure why, but they ask 'how are you' in a different way. It is almost like they are realising that it generally doesn't mean much, but in our case, living with cancer, most people actually expect and wait to get the answer. If they haven't seen me in a while (like my work colleagues, business colleagues, brief friends etc), they ask that same question my partner: 'How is Tina?' over and over again. Some every day, others weekly... He gets quite tired answering and his usual answer is 'Good'
As for myself, it is not that simple. The simple answer 'Good' is just not enough.
Very early this year, soon after my secondary diagnosis, I have made a decision of being truly honest to myself in the way I feel. And once you are honest to yourself, you find it is quite complicated and simple 'good', 'not bad', 'not too good' etc just wouldn't do for an answer.
Living with my type of cancer, which is metastasised in the bones, is a painful experience. So automatically, you are never really good (basically never as good as I felt 18months ago when I was super fit and full of energy). At least not good in a physical sense.
There are days I feel horribly in pain and then there are days (like today) straight after acupuncture when the pain is minimal and the painkillers I am on actually are doing their job just fine. Yet I physically feel stiff, weak, inflexible and slow.
But luckily there is much more to how we feel than just a physical aspect. There are also emotional and mental well beings. And in those two, I very often feel much better than I've ever felt before.
If I compare my mental and emotional present feeling to 18 months ago, it is almost like I am a different person. I now generally feel at peace, filled with clarity, confidence and love to life, myself and people near me. Although tired, I am generally happy and content. And when I get upset, it is a very superficial feeling that passes quickly and not the deep seeded anger that used to consume me and made me dwell in it for hours.
When I feel doubts or fears or any other unpleasant emotions, they seem to be sensed and recognised creeping out from somewhere in the back corner and dealt with way before they completely take me over, like they used to.
Practising being honest to myself has tought me the real meaning of being positive. Because only when you are honest to yourself, you recognise those 'unpleasant' emotions early enough to deal with them in a positive manner and don't let them to completely consume you.
Another pact I did with myself early this year is to completely open to myself, the universe and to selected people around me. It feels so good!
So next time you meet me or call me and ask me: 'How are you today?', you might get the honest & open answer which might sound something like this:
'Generally, I am quite well, thank you. Physically, I am in pain, today around my lower back, not much, but it's still there. I do feel quite weak, very inflexible and stiff though, but emotionally content, with a lot of mental clarity on what to do next. But mostly, I am very excited about an early family dinner catch up later on.'
And 'How are you?'
From random people we bump into or somehow cross paths with (taxi / bus drivers, counter service at local cafe / shop...) or people closer to us such as our work colleagues, to people we love -our dear friends and loving family members.
It is not a big deal and it usually goes something like this:
'Hi, how are you?'
'Good, thanks, and you?'
We most commonly don't expect the answer or really care to hear it and reply, perhaps start the conversation... It is quite a superficial, but yet polite way of communicating in today's society.
Unfortunately (but sometimes fortunately) it all changes when you live affected by cancer.
Random superficial 'how are you's are sort of still the same.... Not a great deal. No expectations on the answer. But when it comes to people you know, they mostly really sincerely wish to know how you are. I am not sure why, but they ask 'how are you' in a different way. It is almost like they are realising that it generally doesn't mean much, but in our case, living with cancer, most people actually expect and wait to get the answer. If they haven't seen me in a while (like my work colleagues, business colleagues, brief friends etc), they ask that same question my partner: 'How is Tina?' over and over again. Some every day, others weekly... He gets quite tired answering and his usual answer is 'Good'
As for myself, it is not that simple. The simple answer 'Good' is just not enough.
Very early this year, soon after my secondary diagnosis, I have made a decision of being truly honest to myself in the way I feel. And once you are honest to yourself, you find it is quite complicated and simple 'good', 'not bad', 'not too good' etc just wouldn't do for an answer.
Living with my type of cancer, which is metastasised in the bones, is a painful experience. So automatically, you are never really good (basically never as good as I felt 18months ago when I was super fit and full of energy). At least not good in a physical sense.
There are days I feel horribly in pain and then there are days (like today) straight after acupuncture when the pain is minimal and the painkillers I am on actually are doing their job just fine. Yet I physically feel stiff, weak, inflexible and slow.
But luckily there is much more to how we feel than just a physical aspect. There are also emotional and mental well beings. And in those two, I very often feel much better than I've ever felt before.
If I compare my mental and emotional present feeling to 18 months ago, it is almost like I am a different person. I now generally feel at peace, filled with clarity, confidence and love to life, myself and people near me. Although tired, I am generally happy and content. And when I get upset, it is a very superficial feeling that passes quickly and not the deep seeded anger that used to consume me and made me dwell in it for hours.
When I feel doubts or fears or any other unpleasant emotions, they seem to be sensed and recognised creeping out from somewhere in the back corner and dealt with way before they completely take me over, like they used to.
Practising being honest to myself has tought me the real meaning of being positive. Because only when you are honest to yourself, you recognise those 'unpleasant' emotions early enough to deal with them in a positive manner and don't let them to completely consume you.
Another pact I did with myself early this year is to completely open to myself, the universe and to selected people around me. It feels so good!
So next time you meet me or call me and ask me: 'How are you today?', you might get the honest & open answer which might sound something like this:
'Generally, I am quite well, thank you. Physically, I am in pain, today around my lower back, not much, but it's still there. I do feel quite weak, very inflexible and stiff though, but emotionally content, with a lot of mental clarity on what to do next. But mostly, I am very excited about an early family dinner catch up later on.'
And 'How are you?'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)