When the fear of cancer recurrence becomes detrimental to health

 

For the past nine years, I’ve struggled with waves of overwhelming fear of cancer recurrence. I knew I had an issue, but until recently, wasn’t aware of how much fear was affecting my life.

The fear began to manifest in physical problems. First, I noticed my heart would race even though I wasn’t exerting myself, so I started seeing a cardiologist. I’d had problems with hypertension in the past, but this was something new. After running a slew of tests, the doctor assured me I was OK and the three medications I was already taking were doing a good job. He told me not to worry, so I tried my best to heed his advice.

Next, I began having trouble sleeping. I’d done a lot of reading about aging and sleep problems, so I wasn’t too concerned, but when I started waking up exhausted. I knew something wasn’t right. The cardiologist suggested we do a sleep study, so I agreed to it. The test revealed I had sleep apnea, so I found a pulmonologist to address that.

I started having stomach issues and wasn’t able to digest my food well, so my primary doctor referred me to a gastroenterologist. After several tests, it was determined I had legitimate concerns. I was afraid I had esophageal cancer — the cancer that took my brother’s life — but the doctor assured me he’d do more testing. I endured two endoscopies and a colonoscopy, and even had my esophagus stretched. While I awaited the results from those tests, my fear grew.

An enlarged lymph node on the side of my neck freaked me out. Immediately, I called the oncologist and set up an appointment. She ordered an ultrasound. When the test was inconclusive, I panicked. I wasn’t ready to face cancer again. The doctor ordered a CT scan of my neck and one of my abdomen just to be sure there was no cancer there. I was thankful she was proactive.

When I received an email alert through the patient portal of my cancer treatment center, I just about lost it. Why was the oncologist calling me in to see her? If it was good news, wouldn’t she have called and told me? The fear inside reached epic proportions.

I called my husband at work and asked if he could take a vacation day to accompany me to the appointment. I didn’t want to face bad news alone. Immediately, he went to his boss and made the request. I felt a little more at ease knowing he’d be with me.

The night before the appointment, I didn’t sleep a wink, even with my CPAP machine. My thoughts were all over the place. What would I do if I had to face cancer again? I didn’t think I could do it.

In the morning, as we drove to the cancer treatment center, my husband held my hand. He talked softly to me and assured me that whatever the news, he’d be right with me.

After waiting in the lobby for about thirty minutes, my name was called. Grasping my husband’s hand, I tugged on it hard as I stood up to follow the nurse. Together, we walked into the exam room and waited for the doctor.

I did my best to control my breathing as the nurse took my vital signs. The nurse asked if my blood pressure was normally high. I replied, “No.” She turned the screen to reveal my systolic pressure was 157. I told her I guessed I was nervous.

The doctor came in with a scribe and her medical assistant. She barely greeted us before sitting down and opening her laptop. I tried to read her body language but couldn’t. She seemed to be all business.

As she pulled up the report for the CT scans, she said, “There’s no cancer on your scans, so you have nothing to worry about. And I see here that that you’re coming up on nine years being cancer free, so I don’t need to see you but once a year now, unless you have something that pops up in between time.” She stood and folded her laptop, then headed toward the door.

“But wait!” I said anxiously, “Are you sure? This wasn’t what I was expecting.” She nodded her head and put her hand on the doorknob. As she turned it, I felt a rush of cool air brush my face.

When she’d exited the room, I turned to my husband, tears in my eyes, and exhaled. We were both in shock. Neither of us expected to hear good news delivered in such a cavalier fashion. Sure, the appointment was probably the last of the day for the doctor, but gee, didn’t I deserve a high five or something?

As we left the cancer treatment center, I suddenly realized I wouldn’t be coming again for an entire year. I had mixed emotions. On one hand, I was happy to be walking out with good news, on the other, I wondered how I’d let fear overpower me so easily.

When I got home, I went into the bathroom and cried. The tears were a much-needed emotional release. Until that point, I hadn’t realized that every time I’d felt any kind of physical malady I’d subconsciously defaulted to “it’s cancer.”

I’m a pretty grounded person, but that afternoon, I realized I had some unresolved post-traumatic stress to deal with. I’d thought that I’d done most of that healing work over the past nine years, but I guess a barb of fear had lodged itself deep in my spirit.

Fear is a powerful weapon the enemy uses against us. The important thing is to learn to recognize it and disarm it.

If there was one piece of advice I’d like to give others facing the overwhelming fear of recurrence, it’s to give yourself grace. We’re only human. It’s normal to dread a recurrence of cancer, especially when it's come into your life and done a number on your mental and physical well-being. Sometimes, it’s necessary to get professional help to conquer it and there’s no shame in that. But please, don’t let it control your life like I did.

I once read a powerful quotation by Emily Freeman I’d like to share with you, “Worry is a thief, fear is a liar, and anxiety is their trembling, furrow-browed baby.” That sums it up perfectly. No one deserves to live under that kind of stress.

Nine years is a long time to deal with the powerful side effect of fear that cancer brought into my life. So today, I choose to release myself from it. And if it ever tries to rear its ugly head again, I’m going to lop it off and scream, “NOT TODAY! I am alive and doing well.” That, my friends, is my new mantra. I’ve fought too hard to let down my guard ever again. I am blessed and I’m going to start living like it.

The babies are about to leave!

For the past couple of weeks, we've been watching a nesting box in our backyard. It's hung on a huge Pine tree, about 4 feet off the ground. Inside the box are 5 baby Bluebirds.

One of the things we loved when we moved here was the fact that our home was surrounded by all sorts of trees. Living on a wooded lot, we've enjoyed all sorts of wildlife everything from tiny Hummingbirds to majestic deer, but the thing we enjoy most of all is when the Bluebirds come. 

Every year, around the end of April, a nest of pine straw begins to form in the nesting boxes we've put out. Slowly and methodically, the mother bird carries bits of straw, twigs, dryer lint, and even hair from recent haircuts. We try to leave a few bits near the base of the trees to help her out. 

Sleepy babies

After the nest is built, she'll sit there and lay her eggs while the male Bluebird brings her worms to eat. We don't disturb her when she's on the eggs. When we see her flying out to go get her own food, we know the babies have either just hatched out or are about to. 

From that point on, we watch and wait. About 2 weeks in, we start closely monitoring the nest. I watch to make sure the parents are away hunting food and gently lift the front door to the nesting box. As I peek in, I can see the growth of the babies and compare it to a chart I have that tells me about how old they are. I snap a quick photo and close the door. From what I've read, Bluebirds don't have a keen sense of smell so I can do this without upsetting them. I never touch the babies or the nest though, just in case.

As the babies grow and change, they begin to get more and more feathers. They start out a dark gray color and eventually start getting a bluish tint. Most of the time the babies are sleeping when I check on them, but occasionally, they'll have their eyes wide open waiting on Mama's latest catch to appear. 

Alert and waiting on Mama to feed them

They're so cute! I really want to pick one up and hold it, but know I can't. 

Bluebirds are only in the nesting box about 19-20 days, so these little ones are just about ready to fledge. Mama bird will come to the front of the nesting box and begin coaxing them out. One by one, they'll ease out and fly down to the ground. After their wings get a little stronger and the baby a little bolder, it will fly up to a low hanging branch and wait for the mother to coax it on its journey. 

I've been able to capture that with past broods and hope to with this one as well. 

It kind of makes me sad to see them go. It feels almost like it did when my kids were growing up. I knew one day they'd leave, but I didn't want them to. I wanted to keep them with me forever, but that's not healthy. Our job is to give them roots and wings. 

I'm on high alert for the rest of today, tomorrow, and the next day. I'm pretty sure I've gotten the timing right and the babies will be leaving no later than Tuesday. I'll keep you posted! 

Love Hate Relationship With My Phone

Cellphones. Love them or hate them? If I had to answer honestly, I'd say both. Sometimes I love the convenience of having my phone always with me and sometimes I don't. I love being able to receive instant messages, alerts, and phone calls. I love the quick and easy access to a pocket sized camera that takes decent photos, but I hate that my phone seems to control my life. 

Several years back, we had a house phone and our cell phones. When we were home, we could turn off our cells and rely on communication through our home phone, but that didn't last long. People began ditching their home phones to avoid an unnecessary bill and since most cable companies and cell phone providers didn't provide battery backups in case of power outages, home phones weren't what they used to be - the old timey kind that were wired in and received data from cables attached to utility poles. 

After a while, we cut the cord, too. It seemed unnecessary to have a home phone if we wouldn't be able to use it in the event of a power outage. It felt odd after we did it, kind of like we'd cut our lifeline to the world, but over time we've gotten used to the era of digital calling. 

But sometimes I feel like we worship our phones. I don't know if many would look at them as idols, but when we spend more time on them that time with God, that's exactly what they are. 

This morning, as soon as I got out of bed, I pulled my cell phone out of my nightstand drawer. I keep it there overnight with the do not disturb feature omn so I can sleep. I have it set so immediate family can still interrupt even if that feature is on, but I don't have to deal with other calls or notifications, which is a nice thing. 

After turning off the do not disturb feature, my phone instantly starts pinging with various notifications - Incoming messages, Facebook messages, news alerts, weather reports, and phone calls. I thought I'd gotten immune to the sounds, but this morning, they really bothered me. 

For one hour, I noticed how many irritations came in through my cell phone. In that brief time span, I was inundated with "stuff" (I could have said another word here, but I didn't.). I got tired of it so I turned my phone on silent and in the silence, I heard the Holy Spirit speak to my heart, "Which do you love more, God or your phone?" Whoa...There's no contest there. I love God WAY more than I could ever love a silly cell phone. Then, I felt Him saying, "Prove it." 

At that very moment, I was on the phone with my youngest daughter who calls me every morning as she's on her way to work. She's so thoughtful to call and check in on me and I appreciate it. We usually talk for about 30 minutes or more and in between the time we're on the phone and when we get off, my husband goes on his morning break at work. He always shoots me a few text messages to tell me he loves me and to check in on how I'm doing. Again, I love getting those messages, but in between talking with my daughter and receiving and replying to texts from my hubby, other notifications start coming in. A barrage of little dings and beeps keep me picking up and looking at my phone. Some days I feel like it's my tether to the world and other days I want to pitch it out the window, so I did something radical. I turned it off. 

With the phone off, I pulled out my Bible and had my quiet time, which was beautiful and sweet. I love communing with God. 

As I read His Word, I got the message loud and clear, He loves me and wants to spend time with me but sometimes, I let other things get in the way. Shame on me! 

The cell phone doesn't own me or control me and I needn't act like it does. And I shouldn't allow it to frustrate me to the point of exasperation either. It's supposed to be a useful tool at my disposal, so how did it become so much more? 

I think many have allowed their iPhones or Android devices to slowly but surely become idols in their lives. Though we may not bow down and worship them, we certainly give them more time and attention than we do God and that needs to stop immediately! 

1 John 5:21 in the Amplified version of the Bible says it so well - "Little children, keep yourselves from idols (false gods)  - {from anything and everything that would occupy the place in your heart due to God, from any sort of substitute for Him that would take first place in your life}. Amen (so let it be).  

Forgive us, Lord, for not spending as much time with You as we do on our cell phones. Help us turn off outside distractions and focus on You. Show us truths from Your Holy Word about how we are to live, love, and occupy until You come back for us one day in the very near future and help us remember, You created us to worship You and You alone. Amen.

When can I quit cancer?

When can I quit cancer? I ask myself that question several times a day. I'm tired of it. For over 9 years I've been dealing with cancer and cancer related items. To say I'm over it would be an understatement. 

Yesterday, I spent 4 hours at the cancer treatment center. I'd gone for a "check up." They had me come in for lab work and then I'd had to wait around for an hour so the results could be review by the doctor. Then, I had to wait even longer to see the doc. 

When she finally came into the room, I thought, she's going to spend extra time with me since she was over an hour late for my appointment. I don't know where I came up with that idea because it certainly wasn't reality. I don't even think she was in the room with me for 5 minutes! 

After looking at my labs and telling me my sodium was low, she quickly looked back at the ultrasound report from my last visit and asked about the enlarged lymph node in my neck they'd scanned. I told her it was still there. 

She came over and began to mash around on my neck then went back to her desk and said, "We'll get a CT on that area." When she said it, my mind naturally went to a bad place - did she think the cancer had returned? I didn't get a chance to ask her because she was already heading out the door. Apparently, she'd been overbooked that day and had many more patients to see. I left feeling frustrated and angry. 

I snuck this photo in the waiting room

I realize the importance of continual screening and annual oncology appointments are the best way of staying on top of any possible issues, but it sure is getting old.

When the doctor was looking over my labs, I did ask what my tumor marker numbers were. In the past, with my other oncologists, they've always told me my numbers. Dr. S, my new onco, looked at my funny and said, "Oh, we don't normally do those when you've had surgery to remove the cancer." WHAT??? I must have looked at her quizzically because she repeated the statement. That's when I told her, with my family history of all sorts of nasty cancers - lung cancer, esophageal cancer, brain cancer, etc. that I needed to know what my tumor markers were and I expected to have that test run regularly. Thankfully, she heard me because she turned to her scribe and said, "We'll make a note to run the tumor markers at your next visit." Dang. 

I toyed with the idea of going back to my other oncologist. At least he gave me the time of day and seemed to be truly interested in my health. This new onco seems overworked and uninterested. It's not a good way to do business, especially in the medical field. 

There are many things I liked about the cancer treatment center and many things I do not. I like that everything is contained in one location - all the imaging, chemotherapy, radiation, labs, etc. are in the same huge building. I don't like the fact that this hospital is a regional one and since it is one of 5 facilities nationwide, there are a LOT of patients. 

Cancer is a lucrative business, that's for sure, but when the patients suffer because of the business side of it, change needs to happen. 

Maybe patients need to start filling out those after visit questionnaires a little more truthfully. I sure do. If they ask how pleased I was with the service I received, I tell them like it is. When they ask how long I had to wait before seeing the doctor, I'm not sugar coating it and when they ask if I'd recommend others to the facility, I don't hem and haw. I state my reasons, both pro and con. I feel like they asked for it, so they're gonna get it. 

Rant over. In a nutshell, cancer sucks and I want out.

 

A little hand can hold a heart

 Yesterday, we went to visit my daughter's church. She'd invited us because she and her husband would be singing a duet and she knew I'd want to hear it. As soon as we arrived, we made our way into the sanctuary. A few minutes later, my youngest granddaughter came bounding in and squeezed into our pew slipping between my youngest daughter and I. She pulled out her little pouch with drawing materials and sat quietly waiting for the service to begin. 

As her Mommy and Daddy made their way to the stage to sing, she sidled up closer to me. I was thankful for our relationship. 

After the song was done and the preaching started, she began to quietly draw. I leaned over and whispered in her ear giving her an idea of something to draw. Immediately, she smile and began working on the project. When she'd completed it, she ripped the page out of her little notebook and slipped it to me. 

I keep all her drawings. I've framed them since she was old enough to scribble with crayons. Over the years, her artistic abilities have improved and I can see, that one day, she may find art an important creative outlet, as have I. 

As the service was winding up, the pastor asked the congregation to bow their heads and pray. All of a sudden, I felt a tiny hand slip into mine. My heart sang as I realized she valued me so much she wanted to hold my hand. 

She held it throughout the entire prayer and then, as quickly as she'd placed it there, she withdrew it. I couldn't help but smile, knowing she'd always find ways to hold my heart. 

She was just a few months old here.

When she was just a babe, I fell in love. Not only was this my granddaughter, she also carried part of my precious daughter in her. 

I was so grateful I'd been allowed to be at her birth. What a special day that was! To date, I've been able to attend 4 of my 9 grandchildren's births. 

I had the honor and privilege of babysitting this sweet one shortly after her birth to this day. Over time, I've held her little hand and have marveled at how much I love her. 

It's interesting to me, how perceptive children are. Whenever she's felt I needed it, she'll give me a big hug or grab my hand as she talks to me. When she does, it's as if our hearts and souls connect. 

I got a sticker for going potty back then, too.

As she's grown older, her little hand has gotten bigger. Her fingers are long and slender and I told her she'd make a great piano player. 

When she was potty training, her Mommy started a sticker reward program and would place a sticker on the back of my little granddaughter's hand when she made a successful trip to the potty. The program worked so well, that on a visit to my house, little bug told me I needed to go potty so I could have a sticker, too. I thought it was so cute that she wanted to share her pride and joy with me. 

I can't wait to see what those little hands grow up to do. 

She's now almost 10 and I don't have a recent photo of her holding my hand, but I'll try to get one soon. 

I hope she'll never stop wanting to hold my hand. Though my hand has grown old and wrinkly, she doesn't seem to mind.I don't think she knows how powerful her touch is and how she has and always will hold my heart.

Broken

 

A brilliant Yellow Swallowtail landed on my leg today as we sat outside on our back patio. It was such a special moment and I was extremely still for fear of interrupting its landing. At first glance, I thought it was a perfect butterfly but as I looked closer, I noticed one of its wings was broken and that made me extremely sad. 

I wondered how the wing had been compromised. Had the butterfly brushed against something rough that had caught and torn the wing or had a pair of eager little hands tried to catch it and in desperation of keeping its freedom, the butterfly had sacrificed part of its wing as it got away. 

The butterfly stay for several minutes before lifting off and gently soaring on the breeze. As it left, I felt my wounded heart cry out, "You're still broken, too."Though I didn't want to admit it, I knew it was true. 

I'd been broken for almost 9 years, since the diagnosis of my breast cancer. Though I'd had months of deep despair, I'd also experienced moments of sheer joy at still being alive and being able to do the things I wanted to do, but I wasn't ever going to be the same again. That realization wounded me deeply.

Today, without realizing he'd done it, my husband said something very hurtful to me. He'd meant it in teasing but the words pierced my heart and made me feel less than. Those words reminded me of my brokenness and I began to sob. When he realized he'd hurt me, he instantly came to my side asking for forgiveness but the words had already accomplished their goal. It was my choice whether or not I would hold on to them or release them. 

I wanted to instantly release them but something deep inside cried out. I thought, by now, I was completely over the trauma of breast cancer, but apparently I wasn't. I wondered if I'd ever feel normal again or at least feel worthy of love again. 

That butterfly, though it had a broken wing, chose to continue to fly. If it hadn't continued on, it would have died without sustenance. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I had to choose to continue on, too. 

I've been trying to learn to thrive for several years now, but it's been hard. The dictionary defines the word thrive in this way: "to prosper, to flourish." I wasn't doing that. I was merely existing. I went from one mundane day to the next trying to fill my time with things to occupy my mind like art projects or writing. When I wasn't doing one of those things, I was cleaning. My house was always immaculate. Though those things kept me busy, they didn't fill my heart with joy. I needed joy. 

I realized, along with feeling broken, I was lonely. I had no friends here and all of my family lived at least an hour away. Rarely did I see anyone other than medical staff or my husband. I needed more. 

Social media helped a little. As I perused my account, I enjoyed learning what my "long distance" friends were up to. It felt like I had a connection although it wasn't really true. 

I'm not the type of person to get down in the dumps often but for the past couple of years I think I've struggled with depression. Oh, it's been mild but it's been there and I haven't liked it one bit. 

If I'd been smart, I would have taken my oncologist up on meeting with a cognitive behavioral specialist, but I was too embarrassed to admit my need. I was also afraid of admitting I was struggling with feelings of unworthiness. 

My faith in God has been my saving grace. Whenever I've felt smothered in my feelings, He's always  been there to remind me who I am and whose I am. Without him, I'm sure I would have already given up. Thankfully, His Word speaks to my heart daily. 

I've had to remind myself over and over again that feelings aren't fact. Though I feel broken and less than, I'm still His precious child. And He chose the trial of breast cancer for me. Knowing that gives me peace, not because I was made to suffer through the trauma of having my body maimed, but knowing no matter what, He'd promised never to leave or forsake me. 

The butterfly with the broken wing was a special gift. I think God allowed it to land on my leg for a reason- to remind me life is still possible even with a broken body. 

I still have a lot of internal healing to do and I'm working on myself daily. I've learned to use positive self talk to help remind me I matter, but more than that, as I've struggled, I've looked for Scriptures that get me back on track. 

I doubt if all women who go through breast cancer struggle with body image like I have but many do. It's hard to explain how damaging losing body parts can be to a person's self worth, especially when those body parts are the essence of their femininity. 

One day, I'm hoping to see myself healed and whole. Until then, I'll keep on working through things one day at a time. And one day, perhaps I'll fly.

We need a vacation do over!

The week of Easter, we went on vacation. We'd planned it carefully in order to avoid all the Spring breakers who usually flock to the coast. I'm a long range planner and had reserved our beach house almost a year ago, as I do every year. Since that time, I'd been praying for good weather and a safe, relaxing trip. 

The boo boo beach house

The day before we were to leave, I got a call from the rental company. The house we'd reserved was going to be having a pool installed. The rental company told us there would be many workmen coming and going. There would be lots of noise. They wanted to know if we would be okay with that or if we'd prefer to be moved to another beach house. I got off the phone and was a little miffed. We'd planned this trip for a long time and now, at the very last minute, we get word that things are going to be turned upside down. 

I talked with my hubby and we decided to move to another house. Several years ago, when we'd stayed on Mexico Beach, contractors had come to repair brick steps to our rental. We'd received no notification and it was a major inconvenience. We didn't want to go through that kind of scenario again. 

I reached out to the rental company and asked what our options were. I was told there were 2 other beach  front homes available for our week, all others were beach view. Since we always rent beach front, I asked for details on those 2 homes. The agent said she'd have to check with the owners and see if they'd be willing to honor the original price we'd paid to reserve our home. Prices had gone up significantly since we'd locked in our price and she wasn't sure they'd do it. 

After contacting the two owners, the agent said only one would agree to rent to us for the initial price. We didn't want to have to pay an increased rate, so we took the one available. 

It's hard to take a beach rental when you don't really know what you're getting. Of course, they always post photos on the online websites, but renters never know if those photos are recent or not. 

We looked at the online photos as well as the location of the "new" beach house. Everything looked great and we felt okay with the change, until the day we arrived. 

It was a long, rainy drive to the beach. The weather forecast for the week was gloomy and although we know Florida weather can rapidly change from hour to hour, we weren't too optimistic. 

One sunny day at the beach

We unloaded our car and started to take things in. It was evident this was a well used, well loved home in much need of updating. Doing our best not to complain or be too picky, we unpacked and settled in. That evening, as I got ready to make our dinner, I found only one eye on the stove worked, the seal on the refrigerator wouldn't hold, and all the pots, pans, and utensils were in a state of disrepair. To say I was upset would have been a huge understatement. 

Immediately, I contacted the rental company's after hours line. Thankfully, they sent out an electrician the next day but when he left, after we thought he'd repaired the stove, it was worse than before! 

We had to prop a chair in front of the fridge door to keep it closed and keep our food from ruining and we had to run out and buy cooking utensils so we'd have what we needed. It was a huge fiasco and if I'd been in a really b---- mood, I would have raised a huge stink and had them move us out. But we'd waited so long to be at the beach and I was willing to overlook the bad things and focus more on the good things.  

Sunrise

We did get to enjoy three sunny days while on vacation. All the others were rainy and we even had a tornado warning while there!The sunny days were perfect and we made the most of them while we had them. We spent time at the beach, visited our old stomping grounds - Cape San Blas and Port St. Joe. We went to Ochlockonee State Park and St. Mark's Wildlife Refuge where we enjoyed beautiful scenery and wildlife. 

We managed to plan and meet up with my Aunt Jane and cousin Nancy, who drove an hour and half to meet us halfway for lunch, so the entire trip wasn't a bust.

We were able to finally see the memorial bricks we'd ordered to honor my brother, Jimmy, and the one we'd done for our 30th anniversary. We had them installed at St. George Lighthouse and when we saw them in person, they brought tears to our eyes. My brother would have loved his "spot" on the lighthouse pathway. It took almost a year for them to be installed. I ordered the one for my brother shortly after he passed away, July 22, 2021. I wanted him to have a permanent place of memorial since he was cremated and his wife hadn't installed one anywhere. Now, every time we visit the island, we'll stop by and remember all the good things about his life and how much we loved him!

St. George Light house

2nd row -my brother's memorial brick

 

Lighthouses have always had a special place in my heart and on this trip, we were able to see four of my favs - St. George, Cape San Blas, Crooked River (I didn't take a pic on this trip), and St. Mark's. They're all so different. 

Although we feel like we need a vacation do over, we were thankful for the days of sunshine we enjoyed. We made a note to ourselves not to plan next year's visit in April.. We normally go in early May or in October. Those months are usually good and there's not a high chance of hurricanes. Sometimes the bugs can be bad though and that's something we just have to prepare for in advance. I'd rather deal with bugs than drama like messed up beach houses and construction. 

I guess it's like Forest Gump says, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get." That goes for weather, beach houses, and so much more. 

At least we made a lot of good memories and that's what counts. Hopefully our fall vacation will be much more pleasant.

Cape San Blas Light house

The Bald Eagle was so majestic!

On our way down to the beach, we saw a beautiful bald eagle up close. I was so thankful I'd taken my 35mm and was able to get a great shot! While at St. Mark's Wildlife Refuge, we got to see so many beautiful shore birds, marsh birds, alligators, and other creatures. Of course, Cape San Blas light house is one of our very favorites. We've been visiting it for almost 30 years. It used to be located along the shore line but they moved it many years ago to a more inland spot due to erosion of the beach. 

St. Mark's light house

We consider every trip to the beach a gift and we always love finding the peace and solitude God offers us there. Usually we bring home more in the way of memories than tangible souvenirs and that's exactly the way I want it. Of course, I do love when we find lots of sea shells. I have quite a collection from past trips and we were especially blessed a few years back when we hit the beach shortly after a Nor'easter had blown through. We found the most shells we'd ever found on one trip that year. 

One of my favorite books is, "A Gift From the Sea," by Anne Morrow Lindberg. It's a profound book and one I enjoy reading over and over again. 

Shark's eye shell

One of my favorite quotes from the book is - “The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach—waiting for a gift from the sea.” 

And if you wait long enough, the sea always rewards.

Gifts from the sea

One more ultrasound

At my latest oncology appointment, my new oncologist, Dr. Sharma, seemed concerned about the walnut sized lump at my left clavicle. It had been there for months but had seemed to be larger than it was when I first mentioned it to previous oncologist. I was grateful this new doctor was being proactive in ordering a test so quickly. 

When I arrived at the cancer treatment center's imaging department, the room was packed. The only available chair was close to a wall mounted television set and very close to an automatic door. I knew the constant noise from the TV would interrupt my reading but wasn't prepared for the blast of cold air every time the door opened as someone entered. I waited about fifteen minutes and as soon as someone was called back, I got up to move and take their seat. I lucked up and got a seat in a warmer section of the room very close to the receptionist's desk. 

My appointment was scheduled for 9:45 a.m. When 10:30 rolled around and I still hadn't been called back, I wondered if I'd been forgotten. There were so many in the waiting room though and it seemed they were moving slowly so I patiently waited. 

To my left was an older black couple. One seat over from me sat the woman softly humming. As I read, I heard her soothing melody. It wasn't bothersome at all and I was thankful for her low, soft voice. It seemed to calm me as I waited for my test 

A nurse came and sat by the couple. She spoke to the husband about the wife's upcoming procedure. I did my best not to eavesdrop but the nurse wasn't whispering. I kept my eyes glued to my book and tried to read as they talked. I kept going over the same line again and again. The nurse was telling the man that after his wife's lung biopsy they'd have to keep her under surveillance for a couple of hours. He asked questions as to why and the nurse said sometimes, during a lung biopsy, air can get into a patient's lungs and this can be a dangerous situation. The man's voice wavered as he continued to talk with the nurse. A few minutes later,  the nurse was taking the woman with her to the procedure area. 

I sat for a few minutes and didn't say a word. As I did, I felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to tell the man I was going to pray for his wife. I waited a few more minutes for confirmation and the nudge didn't go away, so I leaned over and told the man I wasn't trying to get into their business but I couldn't help overhearing about his wife's biopsy. He looked at me intently and I said, "May I ask your wife's name? I'd like to pray for her." Immediately he said, "Her name is Lynn Morgan." I smiled and told him I would be praying for her and I spoke words of encouragement to him. He thanked me over and over again before leaving to go find a hotel room for the night as the nurse had suggested he do just in case the wife's biopsy was more complicated than they expected. 

After Mr. Morgan left, I began to pray for his wife asking God to be with her and give her strength, to guide the doctor's hands and to protect her from complications. As I prayed, a verses from Isaiah came to mind, "You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you. Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock." (Isaiah 26:3-4) I know God brought those verses to mind for not only Mrs. Morgan, but also for me. 

It wasn't long before I was being called back. I lay on the exam table as the radiology tech warmed up the gel. After asking me to show her the exact location of the lump, she took the transducer and began going over and over my left clavicle. As she pressed the wand down on the lump, it hurt. I kept my eyes on the ceiling tiles instead of looking at the ultrasound machine as I did in 2014 when I was first diagnosed. The ceiling tiles in the room were illuminated with a beautiful spring scene. I remembered that view and smiled to myself. 

The ceiling scene I enjoyed

I found it interesting that I wasn't terrified like I was the first time I'd had a breast ultrasound done. Over the years, I've become desensitized to all the poking, prodding, and tests. Perhaps it's because I feel in my heart cancer is no longer a threat to me. Oh, I know it can be. I'm not being naive about the dangers and possibility of a recurrence, it just feels like my stint with cancer is over and has been for some time. 

It kind of feels moot to have to keep going to the oncologist for annual checkups but I'm glad I have a safety net in place just in case. 

On the way home, I continued to pray for Mrs. Morgan. I wish I knew if she was doing okay. 

Next month, I'll return to the oncologist for more blood work, to see the integrative wellness team. Thankfully all that will be after vacation and I can enjoy the sand and sea without thinking about anything cancer related.

Sometimes Surveillance is Satisfactory

When survivorship becomes long-term, it can be an adjustment to move from active treatment to periodic surveillance.

Yesterday, I was scheduled for my annual visit at the cancer treatment center. Since my last visit, the center had been bought by another company. I was nervous about the visit, not only because it had been a while since I’d been there, but also because I would be seeing a new oncologist.

Front of the building

Since being diagnosed with breast cancer, I’ve seen several oncologists. For one reason or another, I hadn’t been with one for more than 2 years. I always found it difficult to see a new doctor but learned to develop a “nutshell” version of my medical history to present at each visit.

When I arrived at the cancer center, I lucked up and found a parking space close to the front door. The parking lot was packed and I was grateful, especially since I’d been having a lot of knee problems and walking was difficult.

As I entered the building, I wasn’t prepared for the anxious feelings that suddenly overwhelmed me. Standing in the lobby, I looked around. Some things were familiar but many things had changed.

At the registration desk, I received a schedule of my appointments for the day. It was going to be a long day. I would start the day with a visit to the lab, then I’d see a nurse for assessment before seeing the oncologist. After the oncologist, I’d see a naturopath and finally, I’d end the day in the physical therapy department as I was re-evaluated for lymphedema treatment.

First waiting room area

The lab visit was quick and a skilled nurse found the vein in my hand quickly. It would be an hour before my next appointment, so I found an empty chair in a quiet hallway and sat down to read. As I waited, I watched patients come and go. I felt uncomfortable. I didn’t look like the other breast cancer patients. I looked healthy and strong while they were evidently in various stages of treatment. Pushing down my feelings of survivor’s guilt, I continued to vacillate between reading my book and looking at my watch.

When the time came for me to head toward the oncology department, my anxiety eased a bit as I saw a familiar face. One of the administrative staff greeted me with a big smile and said, “I remember you!” Instantly, her kindness put my heart at ease.

Soon I was called back to meet with the new nurse. After a brief visit with her, I was placed in an exam room to await my new oncologist.

When the oncologist entered, she briefly introduced herself and then turned to introduce me to her scribe and a nurse. I was surprised to have 3 people attending me.

The doctor pulled up my medical records on her computer screen and began to read about my case. As she recanted the information to me, I was surprised when she said, “So I see here you underwent reconstruction…” Immediately, I interrupted her and said, “No. I did not.” She looked shocked that she’d received incorrect information. Though I was hesitant to correct her, I wanted to make sure my record accurately reflected my cancer journey.

Waiting room for the naturopath

 

After getting familiar with my case, the doctor asked about my current symptoms and whether I was having any problems. I mentioned a growth I’d found at my left clavicle. She quickly palpated it and ordered an ultrasound. I was glad she was concerned and proactive.

Next, I was sent to the naturopath. He met with me for about twenty minutes and gave ideas on how to combat my chronic insomnia. I enjoyed talking with him and left with a sheet of paper listing several companies that provided CBD products he thought would be helpful.

One thing I like about the cancer treatment center was its integrative and holistic approach to treatment.

View of the parking lot from the rooftop

 

The next stop was the physical therapy department. A new therapist asked about my lymphedema and went over treatment options. As she talked, I smiled and told her I’d been dealing with this for 9 years and I was very familiar with manual lymphatic drainage, dry brushing, and using compression garments. She laughed and said, “So this is really old hat to you?” I nodded and she told me to keep on doing what I was doing and I wouldn’t need to see her again unless something changed. 

After all my appointments, I wanted a few minute to decompress so I went up the secret elevator (the one only patients know about) that takes you up to the fifth floor. Up there, patients can hang out in a very private, quiet terrace area. I like going up there because usually there's no one there. It's a good thinking spot, but when I got there, two women were sunbathing and I didn't want to disturb them so I picked a quiet corner and took a few minutes to pray before leaving. 

I left the facility feeling conflicted. While I understood the importance of an annual visit, I still hadn’t gotten used to being under surveillance care.

When I first began treatment, I was seeing someone every few months or so. As time went on, my appointments were moved out to about every six months, and now, every year.

It was comforting to know someone was keeping a close watch on me but I would also have to keep a close watch on myself. That’s one reason I’ve learned, over the years, to pay particular attention to my body. Aches and pains are normal parts of aging but there are things that I need to watch like lumps that randomly appear or an increase in lymphatic issues.

from the roof toward the front of the building

The good thing about being under surveillance is knowing I’m only a phone call away from medical care. Though I won’t see the oncologist every few months, I’ll always see my primary care physician multiple times a year. If there’s something I’m not sure about, I can always ask his opinion first and if he thinks it’s something cancer-related, he’ll refer me back to the oncologist.

5th floor roof terrace hangout for patients

 

 

 

 

Being under surveillance takes some getting used to. I like the freedom of knowing I don’t have to report in for treatment constantly but I’m not quite used to returning to my post-cancer life. I guess all good things come in time but I still don’t understand why the oncologist won’t say I’m completely cured. In my heart, I don’t believe cancer will ever be a part of my life again even if cancer care continues to be.

It’s such a blessing to know I can finally live my life without the constant fear of recurrence. It’s taken me 9 years to get to this point but boy, it sure feels good.

I'm feeling enlightened

I was reading an article on the internet yesterday about a book written by author Scott Haas, entitled Why Be Happy. The article and premise of his book discussed the Japanese practice called ukeireru, which in essence means acceptance. It's the art of pausing and accepting the situations life throws at us before deciding upon a course of action. 

The more I read, the more I realized I've been in the process of experiencing this type of skill for the past year or so and didn't even know there was a label for it. 

At the end of last year, I decided, after a series of illnesses, that I needed to finally slow down and enjoy life. For the past 64 years I'd lived my life at breakneck speed trying to cram as much as possible into every single day, but that process was tiring and I wasn't fully enjoying life. 

One day, while I was having a cup of an exotic tea I ordered from an English tea house, I sat at my kitchen table doing nothing other than savoring that cuppa. I focused on the feel of the bone china in my hand. It's smooth, cool sides felt sturdy yet fragile at the same time. The warm, heady aroma of the tea wafted up toward my nostrils. As I breathed in deeply, I closed my eyes imagining every floral note in technicolor. When I brought the cup to my lips, I slowly parted them, anticipating the rich flavors. As the heat from the liquid touched my tongue, my senses came alive and I realized I was finally learning to savor and enjoy the simple pleasure of a cup of tea. How had I missed it all these years?And what else had I been missing. 

My world had drastically changed since being diagnosed with cancer. It was as if I'd been given a new lease on life. I was thankful to have a second chance to do things right, but often, as I went about my daily life, I tackled routine chores mindlessly. When we took small trips, I did my best to enjoy them and see things in a different light, but it wasn't always easy. 

I'm a typical type A personality, always have been and probably always will be. I'm a high achiever, a go getter, a hurry up and wait kind of person who lacks the patience of Job. I knew it was going to take time and energy to master the art of being in the moment or learning to be grounded as some liked to call it. Apparently, for the Japanese, this wasn't a learned technique, it was a given, a daily way of life. Why was it so easy for them to "get" and so hard for me? 

The art of  ukeireru bases acceptance as a way of life that offers potential for change. Apparently, that means the Japanese people just kind of "go with the flow." They don't stress about things, instead, they fully experience them. 

Wow. 

As I've gotten older, I realize I'm on the downhill side of things. With the time I have left, I want to slow down and embrace the concept of fully being where I am, doing exactly what I'm doing at the time, without feeling anxious or stressed about anything. 

I guess the best way to do that is to become more intentional about paying attention to the little things in life. 

It may sound silly to "fully experience" a cup of tea when I could just as easily gulp it down in a few minutes and move on to the next thing, but for the past few weeks, I've found I really enjoy this little ritual I've set up for myself. So much so that I've started buying fancy tea cups and unique types of tea. I've given myself permission to have a cuppa whenever I choose and when I do, I sit with it and slowly experience it fully. 

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I believe they're wrong. If this old lady can learn the art of ekeireru, then I'd say 64 years of missing out was well worth it. At least I have a few more years, knock on wood, to see what else I can fully give my acceptance to. 

Today, I'm planning on finding more ways to engage with my life. It's become a unique perspective and I'm feeling like I'm slowly waking from deep sleep. It almost reminds me of some days back in the 70s when an altered state of consciousness was achieved from a few drags on a hand rolled cigarette, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I digress. 

Ekeireru is still new to me and it's probably something that's new to you, too. Learning to fully embrace experiences, relationships, and daily life shouldn't be something we have to be taught to do. It should come naturally. I wonder why Americans have such a hard time with this?

One Step Forward & One Step Back

 I finally got the results from the stomach biopsies last week but was so busy I forgot to blog about it, so please forgive me.Thankfully, I was right. It ended up being no news was good news. 

When the doctor called to give me the report, I was so happy to hear him say they were benign tumors and we'd just keep an eye on them. Whew! I felt like I dodged a big bullet. That was my one step forward because knowing I wasn't going to immediately face another cancer diagnosis, I felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders, or should I say belly? Lol!

But after that phone call, I got to thinking. Was I really getting the kind of surveillance care I needed? After a cancer diagnosis, patients need to be kept under a watchful eye. Routine tests need to be performed and everything that can be done to prevent a possible recurrence needs to be done. I'm coming up on my 9th year post cancer and while I'm extremely blessed to be able to say that, since changing back to my old oncology group, I was only being seen once a year. That didn't quite seem enough in my book. I felt like I should at least be seen every six months. 

A niggling little feeling kept at me and I decided to reach out to the cancer treatment center I'd gone to for 5 years before. Let me give a little back history, in case you're new to the blog and don't know the details. 

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, I'd just moved to a new city and didn't know any doctors so I had to look on the internet for oncologists in my area. After finding the closest ones to me, I became a patient in their practice and got good care until my doctor, Dr. F, decided to leave that group and go with another hospital in a neighboring city. At that time, I tried a couple of other doctors in the group but they were much older and ready for retirement. I wanted a doctor who was going to be around a while and was pleasantly surprised when a new cancer treatment center was built just about ten miles from my home. 

 I contacted the center and liked the fact that everything was in one building - doctors offices, imaging services, physical therapy, chemotherapy and radiation therapies, a nutritionist, chiropractor, acupuncturist, naturopath, dietician, library, and religious services. It was a one stop shop! With my old oncologist, if I'd need any scans or tests, I always had to go to another facility and sometimes it was very inconvenient.

The doctor I was seeing at the cancer treatment center, Dr. H, specialized in breast cancer and hematology but not long after I'd gotten established with him, he left and started a practice in another state. At that point, I was randomly assigned to another oncologist just before Covid hit. 

The first time I saw that doctor, Dr. M, I went to the facilty for an in person meeting but was surprised when I first had an "interview" via an iPad. It was weird to sit in an exam room with a chair in front of me staring at a screen as the doctor asked me questions. When he felt like I was "safe to approach in person," he came into the room but stay on the other side far away from me. Through a masked face, he asked a few questions and left shortly after. To say I felt slighted was a huge understatement. 

The day after that experience, I contacted the cancer treatment center and told them I didn't want to see Dr. M again. I requested a new doctor, one that would treat me as a valued patient. But somehow, I slipped through the cracks and kept getting the run around every time I called back to schedule an appointment. I had no idea what was going on and tried to get back in for several months before finally giving up and going back to the first practice I'd had care under. 

I was received there and assigned to Dr. P, a young, cordial doctor who felt like I could see him annually and do okay. 

In the meantime, the cancer treatment center was bought by an organization called City of Hope and a lot of positive changes were made.

One day, while checking my emails, I came across an email from a woman I remembered from the cancer treatment center. Her name was Kelly and she was a patient outreach coordinator. In her message, she asked how I was doing and if there was anything she could do to help me. I was surprised to get her message, especially since I'd tried for months to get an appointment there. Explaining the situation to her, I sent a reply. The following day, she messaged back and said she'd forwarded my message on to another staff member and she assured me I'd hear back soon. Within a couple of days, I got a phone call and the ball started rolling fast. 

To make a long story shorter, I was scheduled for a screening phone call and then a telehealth appointment with an intern there. After answering a gazillion questions, I was given an actual appointment with a new oncologist, Dr. S. Not only was I given a new appointment, I was also scheduled to have lab work done, to meet with the naturopath, and to meet with the occupational therapist all on the same day! Talk about a difference of service and attention! 

My new oncologist

Going back to the cancer treatment center, which was now called the City of Hope was a step back but not really. It felt kind of like I was doing a medical tango going from one doctor to another over the years, but there are no rules in cancer care. It's okay to do what's best for you. 

Sometimes it's necessary to make changes to your medical staff, especially if you feel you're not getting the care you need. I've found, over the years, I am my own best advocate. And I've learned to listen to that still little voice that speaks to my heart telling me when I need to do something different. 

9 years is a long time to survive cancer. This July 9th, I'll celebrate that milestone and I'm looking forward to celebrating year after year in the future. 

Although it seems I've been through the alphabet when it comes to doctors and I've had to adjust to new technologies in the way they're doing things now, I think I'm on the right track. I'm looking forward to meeting Dr. S this coming Wednesday. 

It will feel kind of odd to be back in the old cancer treatment center, but it will feel good, too. I know exactly where everything is there. I won't be scared, like I was when I first started going there. I'm thankful I felt led to keep pushing until I got what I wanted and needed. Getting the best health care possible is so important to someone who'd been through cancer. 

A fear of recurrence is always something we struggle with.  That reminds me, when I was having the telehealth appointment with the intern from City of Hope, he told me that he'd also been through cancer and was currently celebrating his 16th year of being cancer free. As we were talking, I asked him if the fear of recurrence ever goes away. He said, "It will with time." That gave me hope that I won't always struggled with these feelings. You'd think I'd be over those feelings by now, but I'm not. Every time I have any kind of physical malady, my first thought is, "Oh No! The cancer's back." I know it's not health to think like that, but it's exactly how I feel. Cancer does a number on your body, but also on your mind. Being a survivor means you have to find a way to push through those "what if" moments each day as they come and that takes a lot of will power.