Turning the Corner

I've been told a few times "I can't imagine what you're going through", so I was inspired to write about my pain, not because I want to focus on it, nor do I want anyone to feel sorry for me. Far from it. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, so why should you? I'm writing this to give others a glimpse and to express myself. Many of you have danced with pain and may be able to resonate.

This is a glimpse of what the the past few weeks have been like.

Imagine that you limp slowly into your doctor's waiting room, with a walker. You check-in, but can't sit down because sitting down is painful. Yet, standing is also painful. The sciatic nerve pain shoots down your leg. All you want to do is lie down on the floor for some pain relief. But that would be weird, here on the cold tile floor. You search for a sofa, or seats pushed together with no arms to be able to lay across the chairs. No such luck. You sit down uncomfortably trying to lean to one side so the weight rests on your hip. You sit in pain, and hope they call your name soon, only so you can lie down again to get some relief.

If sitting, standing and walking are painful, how do you spend your day? Laying down on your stomach, as if you're at the beach tanning your bum. Yes, this is how I spend most of the day, usually with a book, my laptop, my phone or my journal. It is pretty much the only consistently comfortable position for me. And yes, I just pretend that I'm at the beach reading a magazine or journaling my thoughts away.

As driving involves sitting, for the past month or so, I haven't been able to drive. Car rides can only be comfortable when I'm laying flat on my stomach in the backseat. For the last three weeks, my life has consisted of me being either at home, or going to my radiation treatments, or other doctors appointments. With pain coming and going very inconsistently, I can't manage anything else like social events. Plus, after my radiation treatments, I am tired. I sleep and sleep and sleep. I'm also nauseous. But I've learned to chew on some ginger right after to escape it.

Imagine that at times, pain flares up, for no rhyme or reason. You took your pain meds on time. But pain insists on rearing its ugly head. You lay down. You listen to a meditation. You take deep breaths. You try to accept the pain. Surrender to the pain. Separate from the pain. You are not the pain. Go into the pain. Talk to the pain. The pain persists .......Screw it!!! Get away. Escape. Distraction. You need a distraction. Walk around the house. Even though that hurts too. Lay down on the floor. Play with the cat. Jacuzzi! Go in the jacuzzi. That will help. Except it doesn't.

20 minutes later.... still in pain. What to do....

Do you take another pain pill? Is that dangerous? You don't want to overdose. Should you go to the ER? Do you wake up the parents? It's 3am. Deep breaths. You try the guided meditation again. Deep Breaths. Deep Breaths. Deep Breaths.... the storm gently subsides into the rhythms of the breath and you manage to finally fall asleep.

Luckily, I'm no longer dealing with this kind of pain. I've turned a corner.

That was the last three weeks.  I'm hesitant to jinx it, but... for the past week, I've been standing without pain, making my own breakfasts. I've been able to take short walks. I've been able to sit in chairs, actually able to enjoy dinner at the dinner table with my family. I have not had any pain flair ups. I can sit up regularly for most car rides instead of having to lay down in the back. I hope the trend continues.

This is a big difference from where I was two weeks ago, when I tried quitting my radiation treatments for a second time, writing a long email to my radiologist thanking him for all his time and support. It was a Friday, I hadn't gone in on Thursday and I couldn't make it again. I was in too much pain to make it from my bedroom to the car.

Later that evening, my oncologist called and said that she doesn't want me to quit, that she'll do everything she can, even hospitalizing me if that's what it takes for me to continue with treatment. She said they can get me a fentanyl patch, a higher dose of morphine. Whatever it takes. Because this is your best chance at a cure. Then, my naturopath doctor called and said I needed to get in to do high dose Vitamin C treatments to help with the pain. She also wanted me to continue with treatments.

After taking the weekend to think about it, I decided to stay the course with the treatments as long as my pain was being adequately managed. It's gotten easier, and I hope it stays that way. Everyone at the proton beam cancer center noticed how quickly I went downhill, and now they've seen me come back up again, commenting on how much better I'm looking.

From the outside looking in, things probably look really bad. Yet from the inside, I can tell you that it's really not so bad. Unless you catch me in the middle of a pain flare-up where I have one foot out the door ready to head to the ER for some relief. I have a different take on life at that point. However, even in the thick of the storm, I remember that we all face difficult times. One and three women and one in two men will be diagnosed with cancer in their lifetimes in the U.S., for example. I am not the only one going through a challenge. We all face difficulties, and there are many people that have gone through much, much worse.

I was recently reminded of Viktor Frankyl, and his classic account "Man's Search for Meaning", where he writes about what he learned after surviving Nazi Germany's concentration camps. This book changed my life and how I perceived the world. His premise is that we have a choice to react to our circumstances. It's our decision. The guards could take away his food, his clothes, his family, but they couldn't take away the one freedom he had left: the freedom to choose how to respond to any given situation. He could choose to smile, or he could choose to cry. Putting this into practice, I've decided to really enJOY what there is to enjoy about going through this challenge.

Despite the hardships, I've decided to enjoy the fact that I get to see my parents and my little sister every day. I'm enjoying that I'm growing closer to my family. I'm enjoying being taken care of. I'm enjoying that every day feels like a Saturday and I can sleep in, and read, and journal, and blog, and meditate, and visualize, and just hang out in the backyard and listen to the birds! I'm enjoying the visits from family members and friends. I'm enjoying the fact that my aunt just drove across town to bring me vegetable soup and muffins, and visit with me. I'm enjoying all the love that is being showered my way in the form of kind words, money, gifts, prayers, even via strangers or people that I don't know very well. I'm enjoying waking up to the sounds of birds singing. I'm enjoying having a hot, healthy dinner cooked for me every night. I have a personal chef. I no longer need to go grocery shopping. I'm enjoying the beautiful weather. I'm enjoying having a washer and dryer in the house again. I'm enjoying having a financial cushion. The fact that I have such amazing parents with the resources to help me with bills is lucky. I'm enjoying seeing my niece and nephews more often. Just yesterday, I enjoyed a warm hug from my 15-year-old-nephew as he said "I love you" for the first time ever despite his awkward teenage ways. There are so many little things. So many little things to enjoy. It's not as if I'd choose to be in this situation, but I can choose to enjoy the healing process, the journey towards health.

Another book that changed my life, or my outlook on life is "Mindset" by Carol Dewek, which discusses the need to have a "growth mindset" in order to be successful. Having a growth mindset is seeing every problem, difficult task or unfortunate circumstance as a challenge and opportunity for growth. So, I'm choosing to also see this, my diagnosis, as a challenge, and opportunity for growth. There's not doubt I'm growing. I'm becoming more compassionate, more courageous, and definitely stronger.

One more book that has changed my life and also defines my outlook on life right now is Deepak Chopra's "The Seven Laws of Spirituality". Here I learned about "The Law of Detachment" and to embrace uncertainty. Deepak teaches to almost delight in the uncertainty. We are not in control and should not try to force or attach ourselves to certain outcomes. So I embrace the uncertainty of not knowing the future. I don't know if I'll ever walk normally again (radiation has damaged the S1 nerve, so I walk with a little limp). I don't know if the radiation will shrink my tumor. I don't know if I'll ever be able to drive again, surf again, work again, have a normal life again. I have every intention to. But I embrace the uncertainty. I'm not sure what's in store. I trust in God that this is happening for a reason, for some greater benefit.

Some may see me as a poor, sick, sad person who's incapacitated and therefore, cannot enjoy life. I prefer to see myself as a warrior, using strength, courage and optimism to gracefully dismount from a messy situation. Of course, the reality lies somewhere in the middle. The point is I try my best. At the end of the day, that's all any of us can do. We can try our best to enjoy the little things, to see difficulties as an opportunity for growth, and to embrace the unknown.

Thank you for your continued support, prayers and love.