
A crazy thing happened to me last week. For a split second or maybe more like two minutes, I forgot I had cancer. It wasn’t too much of a big deal but I was at a meeting and I just forgot and felt normal. Here’s what’s even stranger, I work for a company that kinda deals with cancer so I’m surrounded by it all the time but again, for a minute, I forgot. It made me laugh a little when it came back to me but I’ve been stable for awhile so maybe this is pretty normal.
I was with a good friend when she asked if hearing others’ cancer stories bothered me and no, absolutely not. I love hearing people’s stories and it actually helps to hear what others’ thought processes are so I know my thoughts are normal. I did however, tell her that sometimes what’s harder for me is when others forget that I still have cancer. Now, this is tricky because I’m really high-functioning so lots of people don’t know, and I also don’t want pity or any special treatment.Cancer is ALWAYS on my mind whether I show it or not.
- Retirement~will I be alive for that?
- My back hurts~is my cancer spreading?
- It’s harder to breath today~humidity/allergies or is my cancer spreading?
- Have dessert~is the sugar feeding my cancer?
- I’ve lost a couple pounds~cancer?
- Coronavirus~Yes, it’s awful and seems to be an epidemic. All of the news outlets say that the elderly, the very young, and the compromised are the ones really at risk since it attacks the respiratory system. I have cancer in my lungs so while people are thinking about the virus~am I one of those ‘high risk’ people that would do poorly?
- Cancer, cancer, cancer…you get the gist
Cancer is the backdrop of my thoughts and is the steady undercurrent in my daily life. It drives many of my decisions and can sometimes control my mood. I get quiet, I get sad, I get tired easily, and because I’m an introvert, it’s easiest for me to withdraw. On the other hand, I am more observant, more joyful, and more grateful so it’s almost extreme. It’s a clash of intense joy and gratefulness along with sadness at the same time. I guess I’m asking for grace. Something I’m really working on is not judging other people’s pain. Someone may be struggling with work, a cold, a headache, a family issue, etc. and in my head I want to say, ‘but I have Stage 4 cancer.’ Everyone’s pain is their own and no one’s is bigger than another. Comparison is a killer in all aspects of life.
I listened to a podcast today and Richard Rohr said that sometimes his joy can make him sad at the same time. He went on to explain that in moments when he is overcome with joy and contentment, he is sometimes told he carries a sad disposition. He explained further that he realized that he gets sad that people aren’t experiencing the same joy and love of life; two intense emotions coexisting which he calls the ‘bright sadness’. In his ‘both/and’ worldview, opposites don’t contradict each other, they deepen one another. I’m sure I messed that up a bit but I get it and feel that as well; intense joy and gratitude coexisting with sadness. I get overwhelmed with living and being so grateful for everything and I just want to shake people and scream that life is amazing and that even in the mundane, you get to live. I get especially sad when it comes to my kids because of all the same things. All the little things they worry about, some of the choices they make, some of the entitlement they feel, or feelings of worthlessness while finding their passions and purpose, I want to shake them. More than that, I want to smother them with love, I want them to see the beauty of life and of people, I want them to know how amazing and worthy they are, and I also want to live until they’re older so I can see them with their own families. Sigh.
I forgot I had cancer for a moment. It was beautiful.
Prayer is sitting in silence until it silences us, choosing gratitude until we are grateful, and praising God until we ourselves are an act of praise~Richard Rohr

amazing doctors, nurses, and support staff. About 4 years ago one of my original doctors that helped navigate my cancer journey retired and I cried my eyes out. He was the one who called me with the news that my cancer had returned the 2nd and 3rd time. He researched new therapies and called different surgeons and oncologists; this busy doctor made me feel like I was his only patient for the 6 years that I saw him. I love all of the people that cared/care for me. What a difficult job they have trying to comfort and encourage patients, while also doing their jobs and what’s medically necessary. The impact that caregivers have on our lives is pretty astounding. Having cancer comes with baggage; fear, sadness, uncertainty~ it’s a dark time and medical staff play an important part. No matter what is happening in their lives they are tasked to care and love hard. Dr. M and Dr. D, my prayers are with you and I love you both hard.
part time getting all A’s. He still gets a little tired writing but that is coming along. Here’s my mom struggle…before the stroke he was a normal teen boy doing the push and pull; the pushing of my nerves while trying to pull away into his own adulthood. I get it, I’ve had to let go of my other two and that’s how it goes. After the stroke, he became my baby again. It was an incredibly difficult time and sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see him lying in that bed in the ICU and it makes me cry. There are things I can’t even talk about without choking up including the last night we spent at the hospital together, praying, crying, and talking about all that had transpired, before
being discharged to come home. Now that he’s about 95% back to being a normal teen boy, there’s that push and pull again, and I have to relearn it. As one radio DJ said, it’s like a hard break up. For me it’s like breaking up, getting back together, then going through an even harder break up again. Makes me sad but I know it’s necessary. Motherhood is hard and time flies. Besides Alex, my oldest is graduating college in a few months and planning grad school farther away, and Audrey is studying overseas this whole semester. It’s a mixed bag of sadness and joy.



what will hopefully be his last procedure having to do with his stroke last summer. Afterward, while Alex was in the recovery room, the doctor came in and told us that all of the vessels in his brain looked normal and that he shouldn’t have another stroke due to AVM in his future. Done. A few hours after leaving the hospital I was alone in my car headed to the grocery store and I started to cry which then turned into weeping. I couldn’t stop. I realized that since Alex’s stroke in August, I was remaining strong and focused on him and his recovery, trying to keep his and my own spirits up, and now, I was letting it all go. All I felt was an overwhelming sense of gratitude. August and September were a blur of worry, grief, and tears and now, these were tears of joy, gratefulness, and relief.
focus on my own stuff, which was kind of a blessing. Here’s the lesson in that, when you focus on others you focus less on yourself, it’s a good thing most of the time. I honestly didn’t even think about my scan until the night before. I got the results today and I’M STILL STABLE!! My cancer is still there but slow growing and as my doctor said in his text, ‘nothing to worry about.’ Tears, actually, lots of tears.



It’s been a rough week and it’s only Wednesday. My scan, which was scheduled for Monday had to be canceled because the insurance company wanted to review my case to decide whether I actually needed a scan or not. This was a bit of a jolt to the system because it takes quite a bit of mental preparation to even get to scan day. As a metastatic cancer fighter who has been getting scans every three months to determine if her tumors are growing, I rely on these scans (maybe too much) to determine how I will live the next 3 months until the next scan. ‘Rely’ may be too strong of a word but knowing if your cancer is progressing is a pretty big deal. I was able to reschedule for 2 days later (today) so I quickly got over the hump of anxiety and disappointment.
lipstick company with beautiful thrivers; ladies thriving through life despite health surprises. Survivors of breast cancer and lymphoma, one still fighting brain cancer, and one living with alopecia. It was a magical morning for me and one that brought me tears. It struck me that each one of us was fighting or had fought something that was trying to take us down. We had that common thread of fear, sadness, insecurity, but here we were, surviving, overcoming, fighting, and smiling. I had each of the ladies write their stories down in my notebook and the last words of one of the women were, ‘Ever Onward.’ Perfect. Every one of us pressing forward on our journeys. This is what my lipstick company is about and it made my heart full. Life IS our canvas and these are the things that can happen when you choose to get out of your comfort zone…when you decide to leave the house.
