Very wise quote by Henry Ford. It made me think, many times... And every time I agreed to it, strongly.
I had a full body bone scan yesterday. Results reviewed by my Doctor today. The results were 'kind of' neutral. I say neutral, because they weren't really much worse than a year ago, which in the 'advanced cancer terms' means good.
Well, bad news is, that even after chemo, there still are 30+ tumors showing in the bones pretty much all over my body: scull, neck, one of the shoulders, all over ribs, lower spine, mid spine, upper spine, both hips, pelvis, down both legs.... yes, all over.
However, they are not new. They have been there for well over a year, they haven't grown and many of them are possibly shrinking.
The above news can easily be taken with a huge disappointment and negativity. I could easily make myself feel sad, angry, scared, doubtful, full of 'what ifs' etc. And possibly make myself spiral into the darkness and depression.
But I choose not to.
I take the news as positive. Very much so.
There is no talk about my organs being affected, which is great. No talk about being worse, or that chemotherapy is not working, or that there are no more treatments left etc.
My pain level is much better than a month ago, which is fantastic. I am reducing the painkillers again, yay! I feel quite well, energetic. Physically much better than 6 months ago, much stronger, too. Mentally, I am filled with clarity on what to do next. Spiritually, I am content and with deeply seeded trust and belief that all is unfolding perfectly.
It is all in the mind, isn't it? We make choices every single moment of our life. We are blessed with being absolutely free to decide on pretty much everything: what we eat, what we wear, what we say, what we think, how we feel... Every moment of every single day. It is completely up to us. And it is all in our head (or wherever the mind might be hidden...). Our mind is such an amazingly powerful tool.
A negative outlook vs a positive outlook. Both extremely powerful. So different, complete opposites, but yet both 100% right. Can you see that?
How about you? Which outlook do you decide to follow?
Showing posts with label positive attitude. Show all posts
Showing posts with label positive attitude. Show all posts
Friday, May 18, 2012
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?
Monday, February 20, 2012
Mummy, what is cancer?
When I was first diagnosed with early breast cancer back in February 2008, my daughter wasn't even 1 year old. Obviously, she couldn't talk and I didn't feel the need to explain to her what was going on. The odds of survival were extremely high too. And my mum stayed with us for pretty much the whole treatment, so my little daughter did by no means feel left out on getting attention. She did, however, look at me strangely for few seconds, when I walked into her room with shaved head after my chemotherapy treatment side effects kicked in....
Almost 3 years on, in December 2010, when I was diagnosed again, all was different.
This time, it was secondary diagnosis. That, comparing to primary or early, is in itself much more serious. The secondary cancer means advanced, the one that has already spread (or metastasised) to other parts of the body. The odds for survival are much lower... In many cases so low, that people get prognosis of only few weeks to live. In my case is an average of 2-3 years. Well, luckily I am not the average person. I know I am extraordinary, as all the happenings over the past year have shown and confirmed and the way I feel right now (which according to statistics would make me either 1/2 or 1/3 dead), is nowhere near ... If anything, I feel at least 1/2 better than a year ago. On all levels, that is. And for me, the only way is up!
Anyhow, my daughter was nearly 4 years old at time of the secondary diagnosis, and by that age, kids know what's going on. They, in fact, know much more than we give them credits for.
So, how do we tell a child about cancer?
How do we explain what cancer is? Or, that there is a chance we may die way earlier than expected? Or, that we may get really sick before we get better and also that there is a chance we might not get better? And, we hear stories of people dying of cancer every day...
It was horrifying. For me, just the single thought of the possibility of me not being there for Olivia growing up was unimaginable. I can let go of absolutely anything in my life but her. She represents completely everything I've ever aspired to achieve. She is my very own masterpiece. A perfection. The biggest teacher I've known or had. Pretty much indescribable.
So how do I tell her what is going on?
I just couldn't, really. It took me few months, a few books, a 10 day cancer retreat and quite a few sessions with my counsellor to be able to talk to her about it.
And this is almost exact conversation we had:
"Olivia, I have to tell you something"
"Yes Mummy?"
"I am very very sick.... Even though I don't look like I am... but you know this back pain I've had for a long time, the one that makes me unable to lift you, and carry you and run around with you... It's a very serious illness. Many people die from it. But I am doing everything I can to get better. I am not going to die, not just yet, but if I do, I promise to tell you. You will be the first to know"
"So, Mummy, when I grow up, I won't need you anymore"
"Yes baby, do you want me to die then?"
"No, when you're old." She said with a smile on her face.
End of conversation.
Although I didn't mention the word cancer, I felt good to openly discuss the death. But I also felt overwhelmed by her response. She was not even 4 years old, but yet she's already created an image of parents being old before dying.
It did feel good to let it out though.
After that initial conversation, we had a few more through the year.
We spoke about death, but only if she started. She pretty much sensed the connection between old and dying and usually started talking about death when she watched a movie with someone dying or saw an old person.
She also often started the conversation with:
"So, my grandparents are old..." and I explained that sometimes people stay old for a very long time, being old doesn't necessary mean dying straight away. Sometimes young people die, too. Sometimes even babies.
One day in the car, when an old person was crossing the road, she again highlighted how that person may die soon. And again we went through the explanation, ended up with: the animals die, everybody dies, sometimes even kids or babies... And she said:
"Mummy, what if I die?"
"That would break my heart, baby. It would make me very sad"
"And if Daddy dies, I would be very sad." she responded.
"Of course you would be, darling. But you would be OK."
"If you die, that would make me very sad"
"Yes, baby, it would be sad, but you would still have Daddy to love you and look after you and many other people. Even if both, me and Daddy die, you have your 'Godparents' to look after you, be a part of new family, together with the two new sisters (*her nominated legal Guardians have two daughters, her best friends). You would be sad, of course, but you would be looked after, loved and taken care of"
"Yes, but I would miss you so much" she replied and I could see her thinking away a few moments still.
"Of course you would, darling..."
End of conversation.
On another occasion, quite a few months further down the track, she asked me:
"So, Mummy, how is this thing that you have called?"
"Oh, you mean this, what makes me sick?"
"Yes"
"It's cancer"
"Ah, cancer..."
"Why are you asking that? Did you hear anyone talking about it?"
"Yes"
"Who?"
"I'm not going to tell you"
End of conversation.
And so the 'cancer' word was out.
And my husband told me they had a conversation about my cancer while going for a walk. Olivia explained to him exactly what she understood my illness was. When they returned, we had a brief family conversation about it, all present, so Olivia knows there are no secrets. We are open to share and discuss with each other. No stigma attached.
On one occasion, after I was hospitalised a couple of times (after my brain surgery and after my collapsed vertebrae incident), she surprised me with the question:
"When are you not going to be sick anymore?"
That was hard.
How can I explain? So I explained (as I was just about to start chemotherapy) I might get even sicker before I get better, but set a hopeful goal of possibly feeling much better by the end of summer, after her Birthday.
It made me think. I wish I could set a date. I wish life with cancer had a defined positive deadline.
Another, to me, big issue was the hair loss. How is my daughter (whose hair is beautiful, lush, long and wavy and who idolises princesses and Barbie, and all story - book characters with super long hair), how is she going to handle her Mummy having no hair?
She took it simply. And as my hair is thinning and I complain about my 'bad hair days', she looks at me and tells me I look pretty anyway... Oh how I love her.
Even though she told me she didn't like the short wig and her obvious preference would be a lush long, princess-like one, when the 'no hair' stage occurs, I know she will accept me and show her love just the same.
I believe it is the most important to be 100% open, honest and discuss all of the awkward and unpleasant options that may occur in the future, regardless of having cancer. I want my daughter to know I am honest with her, no matter what. I want her to know she is loved and she will be loved, no matter what.
I understand that cancer has a horrible association with death attached to it and I know that she will (if she hasn't already) hear from kids at school things like: 'your Mummy has cancer, she will die'...
And when that happens, I want her to know what is really and truly going on, to be educated about the disease, about the progression and to know how to reply with confidence, to let her feelings and thoughts out clearly and to talk about it openly with myself and people around her.
Although there are moments I feel my now almost 5 year old daughter has had to grow up too fast because of my cancer, my advise to anyone talking to kids about any significant events of life wouldn't change: be open, be honest. Talk to kids, but only if or when they are open to a conversation. And be open to continue the conversation whenever they start it, because they do start it, even though it can happen at the most inconvenient place or time.
Kids are way too precious not to be 100% open to and honest with, and they are so incredibly intuitive, even if we think they don't know what's going on, believe me, they do! They know much more than we could ever possibly imagine....
Almost 3 years on, in December 2010, when I was diagnosed again, all was different.
This time, it was secondary diagnosis. That, comparing to primary or early, is in itself much more serious. The secondary cancer means advanced, the one that has already spread (or metastasised) to other parts of the body. The odds for survival are much lower... In many cases so low, that people get prognosis of only few weeks to live. In my case is an average of 2-3 years. Well, luckily I am not the average person. I know I am extraordinary, as all the happenings over the past year have shown and confirmed and the way I feel right now (which according to statistics would make me either 1/2 or 1/3 dead), is nowhere near ... If anything, I feel at least 1/2 better than a year ago. On all levels, that is. And for me, the only way is up!
Anyhow, my daughter was nearly 4 years old at time of the secondary diagnosis, and by that age, kids know what's going on. They, in fact, know much more than we give them credits for.
So, how do we tell a child about cancer?
How do we explain what cancer is? Or, that there is a chance we may die way earlier than expected? Or, that we may get really sick before we get better and also that there is a chance we might not get better? And, we hear stories of people dying of cancer every day...
It was horrifying. For me, just the single thought of the possibility of me not being there for Olivia growing up was unimaginable. I can let go of absolutely anything in my life but her. She represents completely everything I've ever aspired to achieve. She is my very own masterpiece. A perfection. The biggest teacher I've known or had. Pretty much indescribable.
So how do I tell her what is going on?
I just couldn't, really. It took me few months, a few books, a 10 day cancer retreat and quite a few sessions with my counsellor to be able to talk to her about it.
And this is almost exact conversation we had:
"Olivia, I have to tell you something"
"Yes Mummy?"
"I am very very sick.... Even though I don't look like I am... but you know this back pain I've had for a long time, the one that makes me unable to lift you, and carry you and run around with you... It's a very serious illness. Many people die from it. But I am doing everything I can to get better. I am not going to die, not just yet, but if I do, I promise to tell you. You will be the first to know"
"So, Mummy, when I grow up, I won't need you anymore"
"Yes baby, do you want me to die then?"
"No, when you're old." She said with a smile on her face.
End of conversation.
Although I didn't mention the word cancer, I felt good to openly discuss the death. But I also felt overwhelmed by her response. She was not even 4 years old, but yet she's already created an image of parents being old before dying.
It did feel good to let it out though.
After that initial conversation, we had a few more through the year.
We spoke about death, but only if she started. She pretty much sensed the connection between old and dying and usually started talking about death when she watched a movie with someone dying or saw an old person.
She also often started the conversation with:
"So, my grandparents are old..." and I explained that sometimes people stay old for a very long time, being old doesn't necessary mean dying straight away. Sometimes young people die, too. Sometimes even babies.
One day in the car, when an old person was crossing the road, she again highlighted how that person may die soon. And again we went through the explanation, ended up with: the animals die, everybody dies, sometimes even kids or babies... And she said:
"Mummy, what if I die?"
"That would break my heart, baby. It would make me very sad"
"And if Daddy dies, I would be very sad." she responded.
"Of course you would be, darling. But you would be OK."
"If you die, that would make me very sad"
"Yes, baby, it would be sad, but you would still have Daddy to love you and look after you and many other people. Even if both, me and Daddy die, you have your 'Godparents' to look after you, be a part of new family, together with the two new sisters (*her nominated legal Guardians have two daughters, her best friends). You would be sad, of course, but you would be looked after, loved and taken care of"
"Yes, but I would miss you so much" she replied and I could see her thinking away a few moments still.
"Of course you would, darling..."
End of conversation.
On another occasion, quite a few months further down the track, she asked me:
"So, Mummy, how is this thing that you have called?"
"Oh, you mean this, what makes me sick?"
"Yes"
"It's cancer"
"Ah, cancer..."
"Why are you asking that? Did you hear anyone talking about it?"
"Yes"
"Who?"
"I'm not going to tell you"
End of conversation.
And so the 'cancer' word was out.
And my husband told me they had a conversation about my cancer while going for a walk. Olivia explained to him exactly what she understood my illness was. When they returned, we had a brief family conversation about it, all present, so Olivia knows there are no secrets. We are open to share and discuss with each other. No stigma attached.
On one occasion, after I was hospitalised a couple of times (after my brain surgery and after my collapsed vertebrae incident), she surprised me with the question:
"When are you not going to be sick anymore?"
That was hard.
How can I explain? So I explained (as I was just about to start chemotherapy) I might get even sicker before I get better, but set a hopeful goal of possibly feeling much better by the end of summer, after her Birthday.
It made me think. I wish I could set a date. I wish life with cancer had a defined positive deadline.
Another, to me, big issue was the hair loss. How is my daughter (whose hair is beautiful, lush, long and wavy and who idolises princesses and Barbie, and all story - book characters with super long hair), how is she going to handle her Mummy having no hair?
She took it simply. And as my hair is thinning and I complain about my 'bad hair days', she looks at me and tells me I look pretty anyway... Oh how I love her.
Even though she told me she didn't like the short wig and her obvious preference would be a lush long, princess-like one, when the 'no hair' stage occurs, I know she will accept me and show her love just the same.
I believe it is the most important to be 100% open, honest and discuss all of the awkward and unpleasant options that may occur in the future, regardless of having cancer. I want my daughter to know I am honest with her, no matter what. I want her to know she is loved and she will be loved, no matter what.
I understand that cancer has a horrible association with death attached to it and I know that she will (if she hasn't already) hear from kids at school things like: 'your Mummy has cancer, she will die'...
And when that happens, I want her to know what is really and truly going on, to be educated about the disease, about the progression and to know how to reply with confidence, to let her feelings and thoughts out clearly and to talk about it openly with myself and people around her.
Although there are moments I feel my now almost 5 year old daughter has had to grow up too fast because of my cancer, my advise to anyone talking to kids about any significant events of life wouldn't change: be open, be honest. Talk to kids, but only if or when they are open to a conversation. And be open to continue the conversation whenever they start it, because they do start it, even though it can happen at the most inconvenient place or time.
Kids are way too precious not to be 100% open to and honest with, and they are so incredibly intuitive, even if we think they don't know what's going on, believe me, they do! They know much more than we could ever possibly imagine....
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
I am In A Good Place
Too often I get: 'Oh Tina, I am so sorry for you...' kind of statement from an acquaintance or a dear friend.
Lots of comparing, too, like 'I got this horrid cold / flu / gastro, nothing like you though...'
or 'Been crazy at work, way too busy, too stressful, but nothing compared to what you're going through...'
Can I please ask you all to STOP comparing!
I am in a good place.
I know how you feel. I seriously get it. I can remember, I've been there. I can still (even if only just) vaguely feel it all over my body, mostly in my chest and tummy, that unpleasant feeling of tightness, shortness of breath, stress, feeling of being trapped... Or that other feeling of being so unwell from cold or flu, that you can't get out of bed, feeling weak, one moment hot and sweaty, next moment cold and shaky... Or when your throat is so bad you can't swallow anything but a luke warm tea perhaps... Or the self inflicted sicknesses like when you had too much to drink and spend the whole night in the bathroom....Or when you picked up some gastro somewhere....
It is a horrible feeling! Horrible and horrible again. Especially when you have no time to rest (because of deadlines at work) or have no knowledge on how to handle it within you.
That feeling of constant inner stress (if repeated for lengthy periods of time), is what (to my opinion) causes serious critical illnesses such as cancer and / or many others.
All of the above are symptoms, a bit like warning signs from your physical body telling you to slow down, take a break. A rest. Time out. Perhaps take a nice relaxing holiday, respect your body, nurture it, love it... Make it feel better.
But unfortunately, more often than not, we instead pop few pills, perhaps give ourselves a day to recover, when we literally can not move, and then back to the action... Back to the busyness, stress, hobbies, parties, especially this time of the year.
Well, that was me, anyway...
Since my secondary diagnosis (it was 1 year anniversary yesterday), I have been on a healing journey.
Quite funny really, as I had a few most important projects still to finish at work last year before my 'end of year' deadline, but I had to see the Doctor because of my incapacitating back pain. I took a day off and after X - Ray results showed cancer had returned, my work disappeared from the priority list completely, totally, 100%. In fact, I have not worked from the office since 13th December 2010. A day before my diagnosis.
So, how important the job really was?
What is it that is truly important?
For me, right there and then, at the Doctor's suite delivering the news of 'cancer has returned', the only most important thing was life. Life, including my young family - my daughter, my partner and myself.
In my personal experience, that was it. As if the whole wide world (including all my other family members and dear friends) just completely disappeared.... Right there and then, in that moment of existence, there was only myself, being alive and well, with and for my daughter and my beautiful loving man. For that instant, absolutely nothing else mattered nor existed. It pretty much went blank.
It was a huge awakening.
And it was good. Priorities have since been so clear, there is no chance to ever un-see them again.
Right then, on 14th Dec 2010, with all the stresses of my past, going way back to my early childhood, the present lifestyle and the cancer diagnosis, I was in a very deep and dark place. In a place, where for few days I felt totally hopeless and seriously didn't see the way out. I had felt like I have completely lost control of life and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change it...
Luckily, I found the book that opened my eyes, filled me with hope and I was able to climb out of that deep dark abyss and into the light, seeing there was future and it can be bright.
And so my healing journey started.
Comparing myself, my well being and the place I am at now, to the place I have been for many years in my past, it's literally like day and night. It is so different, I find it extremely difficult to put it into words.
I can try to describe the current place as the place of peace of mind, emotional stability, contentment, existence without stress, lots of clarity, obvious and vivid priorities; the future that is laid in front of me like a huge circle with million possibilities and not just one single path or perhaps a couple; the belief of trust and certainty that all really and truly is unfolding perfectly...
Never mind the lumps and fractures in my body, there is so much more than physical bodies.... It's the wholeness of ourselves. It's our mind, emotions, spiritualism, soul.
They all are to be attended to and have a special place in our existence, as it's only when they all are in balance and harmony, one as human being can truly be whole & complete, which leads to that ultimate state of contentment that most of us are striving to achieve...
So next time you're tempted to compare yourself with someone with some sort of serious disease, stop yourself and have a think ... Where am I at - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually?
As for me, although I physically am the most fragile and weak I have been in my life, I'm undergoing numerous treatments to improve that one part of my existence, but I truly am in a better than ever place before - emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I am at peace.
Lots of comparing, too, like 'I got this horrid cold / flu / gastro, nothing like you though...'
or 'Been crazy at work, way too busy, too stressful, but nothing compared to what you're going through...'
Can I please ask you all to STOP comparing!
I am in a good place.
I know how you feel. I seriously get it. I can remember, I've been there. I can still (even if only just) vaguely feel it all over my body, mostly in my chest and tummy, that unpleasant feeling of tightness, shortness of breath, stress, feeling of being trapped... Or that other feeling of being so unwell from cold or flu, that you can't get out of bed, feeling weak, one moment hot and sweaty, next moment cold and shaky... Or when your throat is so bad you can't swallow anything but a luke warm tea perhaps... Or the self inflicted sicknesses like when you had too much to drink and spend the whole night in the bathroom....Or when you picked up some gastro somewhere....
It is a horrible feeling! Horrible and horrible again. Especially when you have no time to rest (because of deadlines at work) or have no knowledge on how to handle it within you.
That feeling of constant inner stress (if repeated for lengthy periods of time), is what (to my opinion) causes serious critical illnesses such as cancer and / or many others.
All of the above are symptoms, a bit like warning signs from your physical body telling you to slow down, take a break. A rest. Time out. Perhaps take a nice relaxing holiday, respect your body, nurture it, love it... Make it feel better.
But unfortunately, more often than not, we instead pop few pills, perhaps give ourselves a day to recover, when we literally can not move, and then back to the action... Back to the busyness, stress, hobbies, parties, especially this time of the year.
Well, that was me, anyway...
Since my secondary diagnosis (it was 1 year anniversary yesterday), I have been on a healing journey.
Quite funny really, as I had a few most important projects still to finish at work last year before my 'end of year' deadline, but I had to see the Doctor because of my incapacitating back pain. I took a day off and after X - Ray results showed cancer had returned, my work disappeared from the priority list completely, totally, 100%. In fact, I have not worked from the office since 13th December 2010. A day before my diagnosis.
So, how important the job really was?
What is it that is truly important?
For me, right there and then, at the Doctor's suite delivering the news of 'cancer has returned', the only most important thing was life. Life, including my young family - my daughter, my partner and myself.
In my personal experience, that was it. As if the whole wide world (including all my other family members and dear friends) just completely disappeared.... Right there and then, in that moment of existence, there was only myself, being alive and well, with and for my daughter and my beautiful loving man. For that instant, absolutely nothing else mattered nor existed. It pretty much went blank.
It was a huge awakening.
And it was good. Priorities have since been so clear, there is no chance to ever un-see them again.
Right then, on 14th Dec 2010, with all the stresses of my past, going way back to my early childhood, the present lifestyle and the cancer diagnosis, I was in a very deep and dark place. In a place, where for few days I felt totally hopeless and seriously didn't see the way out. I had felt like I have completely lost control of life and that there was absolutely nothing I could do to change it...
Luckily, I found the book that opened my eyes, filled me with hope and I was able to climb out of that deep dark abyss and into the light, seeing there was future and it can be bright.
And so my healing journey started.
Comparing myself, my well being and the place I am at now, to the place I have been for many years in my past, it's literally like day and night. It is so different, I find it extremely difficult to put it into words.
I can try to describe the current place as the place of peace of mind, emotional stability, contentment, existence without stress, lots of clarity, obvious and vivid priorities; the future that is laid in front of me like a huge circle with million possibilities and not just one single path or perhaps a couple; the belief of trust and certainty that all really and truly is unfolding perfectly...
Never mind the lumps and fractures in my body, there is so much more than physical bodies.... It's the wholeness of ourselves. It's our mind, emotions, spiritualism, soul.
They all are to be attended to and have a special place in our existence, as it's only when they all are in balance and harmony, one as human being can truly be whole & complete, which leads to that ultimate state of contentment that most of us are striving to achieve...
So next time you're tempted to compare yourself with someone with some sort of serious disease, stop yourself and have a think ... Where am I at - physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually?
As for me, although I physically am the most fragile and weak I have been in my life, I'm undergoing numerous treatments to improve that one part of my existence, but I truly am in a better than ever place before - emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I am at peace.
Friday, November 18, 2011
3 steps forward, 1 step back
Ah, the unpredictability of the life with cancer...
Just as I thought all is under control, decided to take a well deserved break from heavy decision making on serious treatments, or starting any suggested serious treatments such as chemotherapy (which I have been postponing for quite a few months), I woke up the other day in an excruciating pain. And this time, the pain decided not to go away. Not with a top up pain medications, not with a session of acupuncture, meditation, rest... Nothing seemed to help.
As the day progressed, the pain was getting worse and worse, until it got so bad that I simply curled up on the floor, unable to stand up or even sit up. It was most physically agonizing pain I have ever experienced, and I couldn't move without the help of my loving man. Breathless and unable to get the words out ... All of the muscles around back and front of my lungs were in a complete spasm.
It took me at least 20 minutes to come back to breath, be able to talk and phone my after hours palliative care team for advice. Few top up painkillers, another phone call an hour later and doubling the usual dose, left me quite high, but somehow numb to the pain and I ended up having a very needed deep, long night sleep.
Positive me, I hoped for a good, pain free morning to wake up to. Gosh I was wrong!
I woke up fresh, at peace, well rested, but realised soon after that I couldn't move. The mission to the bathroom was pretty much impossible. In fact, it was so bad, I couldn't even sit up to take my morning medication. I was very close to be completely paralyzed from neck to hips.
I crashed back onto my bed in agony, took quite some time to relax, release and catch enough breath to be able to start talking... Needless to say, I was straight on the phone to the Doctor, organized an ambulance and off I went to the nearest Emergency.
So much about being in control... And reducing my painkillers.... And taking a 'well deserved Xmas break' from cancer :-))))
What have I learned?
In this particular event from the past few days, I have learned there is often no such thing as taking control over the situation.... No such thing as a 'deadline', or a break, holiday, time out...
Sometimes, things just occur, very unpredictably and totally unplanned, out of our hands, nowhere in our agenda.
It is in a way similar to the experience of being a new parent.
Once your child is born, you are a grown up, a parent, responsible 24/7, for the rest of your life. There is no manual, no agenda on baby's sleep, no knowing what comes next. It is extremely unpredictable.
And no matter how tired you sometimes may feel, no matter how much you feel like you need a long, uninterrupted good night sleep, there is no break from it. And it is pretty much out of control, at least yours, anyway... It seems that all of a sudden, a little innocent newborn, so precious and dependant, completely changed your life.
Please let me explain in a more detailed way:
By no means I intend to be negative about being a new parent, as it actually also is the most amazing experience, better and greater than anything you could have ever imagined. It is also the most rewarding. And it teaches you so much.
Being a mother, I have learned million things, but the two that really stand out for me are:
The secondary diagnosis of cancer has changed my life completely, and mostly (just like being a mother) in the most amazing, positive, rewarding way.
Over the past year, I have left my stressful job, changed my diet to the healthiest possible, started to meditate, surrounded myself with people that I want to be surrounded with, my priorities are very obviously recognised, I have found a peace of mind, gained clarity, got rid of the guild, anger, learned how to deal with stressful situations in a healthy, peaceful manner ... And the list of positives goes on and on.
But most importantly, I have started practising true, immeasurable, unconditional love towards myself and I am learning, day by day, to be patient.
So yes, I have learned that sometimes things happen suddenly, very unpredictably, totally unexpected, unplanned and out of our hands.
I have recently opened myself to starting another session of chemotherapy, but naively thought it could wait until the beginning of new year. I seriously believed my cancer in the spine can take a 2 months vacation from a much needed treatment, without compromising my well-being, let me enjoy the festive season and then, when I am ready with my 'new year resolution list', we can start 'fresh after a break' - in my own time frame.
Yes, I was very wrong.
But whatever happens, no matter have unexpected and horrible it may feel when it occurs, it is just a moment. A moment, that just like any other moment in our life, is sure to pass.
And so we move through life - 3 steps forward, 1 step back, learning to embrace the uncertainty and unpredictability, knowing that although slow, with many possible set-backs, we still are moving forward, towards the completion of the circle of life as we know it.
To conclude, I will use a simple, but yet very deep and powerful mantra by my dear friend Jane:
'All is well. All is well. All is well... Always!'
In this particular event from the past few days, I have learned there is often no such thing as taking control over the situation.... No such thing as a 'deadline', or a break, holiday, time out...
Sometimes, things just occur, very unpredictably and totally unplanned, out of our hands, nowhere in our agenda.
It is in a way similar to the experience of being a new parent.
Once your child is born, you are a grown up, a parent, responsible 24/7, for the rest of your life. There is no manual, no agenda on baby's sleep, no knowing what comes next. It is extremely unpredictable.
And no matter how tired you sometimes may feel, no matter how much you feel like you need a long, uninterrupted good night sleep, there is no break from it. And it is pretty much out of control, at least yours, anyway... It seems that all of a sudden, a little innocent newborn, so precious and dependant, completely changed your life.
Please let me explain in a more detailed way:
By no means I intend to be negative about being a new parent, as it actually also is the most amazing experience, better and greater than anything you could have ever imagined. It is also the most rewarding. And it teaches you so much.
Being a mother, I have learned million things, but the two that really stand out for me are:
- true, immeasurable, unconditional love (instantly)
- patience (work in progress)
The secondary diagnosis of cancer has changed my life completely, and mostly (just like being a mother) in the most amazing, positive, rewarding way.
Over the past year, I have left my stressful job, changed my diet to the healthiest possible, started to meditate, surrounded myself with people that I want to be surrounded with, my priorities are very obviously recognised, I have found a peace of mind, gained clarity, got rid of the guild, anger, learned how to deal with stressful situations in a healthy, peaceful manner ... And the list of positives goes on and on.
But most importantly, I have started practising true, immeasurable, unconditional love towards myself and I am learning, day by day, to be patient.
So yes, I have learned that sometimes things happen suddenly, very unpredictably, totally unexpected, unplanned and out of our hands.
I have recently opened myself to starting another session of chemotherapy, but naively thought it could wait until the beginning of new year. I seriously believed my cancer in the spine can take a 2 months vacation from a much needed treatment, without compromising my well-being, let me enjoy the festive season and then, when I am ready with my 'new year resolution list', we can start 'fresh after a break' - in my own time frame.
Yes, I was very wrong.
But whatever happens, no matter have unexpected and horrible it may feel when it occurs, it is just a moment. A moment, that just like any other moment in our life, is sure to pass.
And so we move through life - 3 steps forward, 1 step back, learning to embrace the uncertainty and unpredictability, knowing that although slow, with many possible set-backs, we still are moving forward, towards the completion of the circle of life as we know it.
To conclude, I will use a simple, but yet very deep and powerful mantra by my dear friend Jane:
'All is well. All is well. All is well... Always!'
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?'
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Life Is Beautiful
Funny how our moods change, our minds play up and send us such different massages, day in, day out....
It's a beautiful day today! I feel so happy. I appreciate each and every moment of my existance.
It makes me wonder what triggered the cancer thoughts to go on vacations?
Is it the meditation I managed to consistently practice for the past few days (although I fell asleep 15 minutes in - every time)?
Or is it a visit to my 'Guru', which filled me up with new energy, gave me the clarity into the next couple of month of healing journey?
Perhaps it is a lovely hour spent with my Yoga Teacher, a very wise and interesting woman with amazing stories and great energies?
Maybe it's my daughter, who has been in an extremly joyfull mood for the past couple of days....
Or the beginning of spring?
Whatever it is, it is in me, it feels great and I am not letting it go! I will be holding onto this feeling, embrace it completely and nurture it as long as possible - never mind the lumps, cracked ribs, muscle spasms...
I am content, I am in a great place, filled with peace and clarity.
Life is beautiful!
It's a beautiful day today! I feel so happy. I appreciate each and every moment of my existance.
It makes me wonder what triggered the cancer thoughts to go on vacations?
Is it the meditation I managed to consistently practice for the past few days (although I fell asleep 15 minutes in - every time)?
Or is it a visit to my 'Guru', which filled me up with new energy, gave me the clarity into the next couple of month of healing journey?
Perhaps it is a lovely hour spent with my Yoga Teacher, a very wise and interesting woman with amazing stories and great energies?
Maybe it's my daughter, who has been in an extremly joyfull mood for the past couple of days....
Or the beginning of spring?
Whatever it is, it is in me, it feels great and I am not letting it go! I will be holding onto this feeling, embrace it completely and nurture it as long as possible - never mind the lumps, cracked ribs, muscle spasms...
I am content, I am in a great place, filled with peace and clarity.
Life is beautiful!
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