Wish upon a Power Port

Do you know what a Power Port is?  It is not anywhere near as exciting as it sounds. If you are not familiar with these little devices, you should consider yourself very lucky because that probably means that neither you nor someone you care about needed one. They are also called port catheters and they are used primarily for people who need chemotherapy drugs or have need to frequently access the veins. The port is placed under the skin (usually in your chest) and is attached to a thin tube that is threaded into the superior vena cava vein above your heart. They make it so much easier to get infusions, draw blood, or be injected with contrast solutions for CT or PET scans. They help protect the skin and tissues from potential leakage of caustic chemotherapy drugs, and they also mean you don't get poked in the arm a million times by a nurse trying to find a good vein to use for an IV.  They make infusion day so much easier.

But they are also a huge annoyance. The seat belt runs right across where the port usually goes and rubs against the skin.  You can't really wear certain types of necklines or the port is exposed and the bump under the skin is not particularly attractive. But mostly, it is a daily reminder that something is wrong with you. I had my first port back in 2007 during my first go-round with cancer, and I was so glad when I was finally able to be rid of it after my treatments were done. When I had to get another one after the cancer had spread, I had to face the realization that this time there would probably not be an end to treatment and the port would be a permanent part of my life. I wished I could get rid of it, but didn't see any way that would happen since I couldn't imagine my doctor being OK with me removing it.

But sometimes we get what we wish for in the most unexpected ways. 

The port catheter tube that goes into the heart is just underneath the skin and right by your neck jugular vein. They have to make a little incision by your neck so that they can guide the tube into a vein. The incision heals, of course, but it's hard for it not to be brushed against all the time and irritated.  I am guessing they also don't really expect people who have Power Ports to be out backpacking a lot. Unfortunately, with all of my activity this year, my incision site started to open up and the tube became exposed.

It's kind of a big problem when a tube that goes directly into a major heart vein is exposed to a world full of germs.  My doctor declared that it needed to come out as quickly as possible. And since my cancer is staying stable, and I don't need chemotherapy drugs, I would NOT have to replace it.  My wish was coming true!

I still go to the clinic every three weeks for infusions of Herceptin and Perjeta, the two drugs that are instrumental in keeping me stable and preventing the cancer from growing. That isn't going to change anytime soon unless something new comes along or those drugs stop working for me. But my port?  I had it removed today! Yes, it means I will have to have my arm poked a bazillion times, but I decided I would rather have a few minutes of annoyance every three weeks than the daily annoyance of a port.

Psychologically, it is also really wonderful to have the port gone.  It's hard to really see yourself as a healthy person when you have a constant physical reminder visible every time you look in a mirror or drive your car, or change your shirt. And we are so much a product of our thoughts.  I have been learning over these past two and a half years that the body achieves what the mind believes. If I place limits on myself and what I can do, that doesn't really serve me in any way. 

My last scans showed that everything was stable. This is fantastic news, and I don't mean to diminish this at all because it really is exactly what we all want to see.  But I can't help believing that there is possibility for more. I can't help but believe that there could be a day when I get to read a report that doesn't just say I am stable, but that there is no sign of any cancer anymore.  I know this is rare. I know this is unlikely, even. But we must believe that something is possible in order to achieve it.  If we don't believe it is possible, we won't even try to wish for it. Yes, wishes don't always come true. Sometimes, we are disappointed.

But sometimes wishes do come true.  And I don't have a port anymore.

A Walk in the Woods

This weekend, I was fortunate to be able to spend some time at our friend's cabin up on the North Shore of Lake Superior.  It's in a beautiful spot, heavily forested with birch, cedar and pine, a short walk to the lake, and a cascading river running through the forest providing a sound backdrop that manages to mask the sound of the nearby highway. It also lacks internet.

While I could occasionally get a cell signal, it was spotty and very slow, so we spent a lot of time outside. I can resoundingly say that this was a much better way to spend my time. We went on long walks in the forest and up to the ridge lines overlooking the lake, we kayaked, and we explored some nearby trails.

On one of our walks, we followed the river upstream to a beautiful waterfall surrounded by tall rock walls. Large boulders provided the perfect spot to sit and watch the water pour from above into the pool at my feet. As I sat there, I had no thoughts of the daily dramas of life. No thoughts of work, politics or war. No thoughts of pain, illness or suffering of any kind. I didn't have a phone with me or camera to try to capture just the right image. I was simply there. Everything fell away except that moment and the pure sensory experience of hearing the water, feeling the cool air, seeing the deep green, and smelling the intoxicating scent of the forest surrounding me.

As we continued to walk I found my senses becoming nearly overwhelmed by the heady scent of of the trees and the simple beauty of the spring wildflowers just coming into bloom. Each inhale was like breathing in pure, sweet joy. With every step, I was filled with gratitude such that I nearly burst into tears a few times. With every step, I began to offer thanks. Thank you to this tree. Thank you to the leaves and pine needles beneath my feet. Thank you little purple flowers for being so delicate and lovely. Thank you wild strawberry blossoms that I know will yield flavorful fruit in just a few weeks. Thank you to the sun for providing the warmth and light that made these trees grow.  Thank you to the powerful forces beneath the earth that created these rocks I step across.  Thank you to the rain and clouds for the water that feeds this river and that provides life to this forest. Thank you to the people who came before me who created these paths that I follow.  Thank you for my friends who so willingly share this beauty with me. Thank you for my son and husband who walk with me. Thank you to my parents for bringing me into the woods at a young age and kindling that spark within me of a deep love of the natural world.

It was a deeply satisfying walk, and I found myself full of energy despite the many miles I had walked that day.

There are many problems in the world, but sometimes we need to step away from them all. It was enormously helpful to have a news hiatus and to get back to the simplicity of the world that goes on without the artificial human drama that we create.  When we are always focused on the things that make us upset and angry, on the the injustices of the world, we will always be supplied with examples. Seek and ye shall find. If you look for problems, you will find plenty of them. That does not mean we ignore the problems. But when we spend so much of our energy focusing on all the problems, we have no energy left for solutions. We don't realize that most of the shadows of this life are caused by standing in our own sunshine. I forget this sometimes, even though it's the name of this blog. It's good to be reminded.

Turn around. Turn away from the computer and the news. Turn away from your work. Turn away from your worries, your self-doubt, and all the shadows that you see in front of you.  Turn around and face the sun.  Let the sun shine on your face and let the shadows fall behind you. Walk in the woods and smell the pines. If you can't walk, take a drive into a forested area and open up the windows. If you can't do that, step outside after a rain and breathe in the air.

And if you can't do that, close your eyes and imagine it. Imagine the wind blowing gently through the trees. Imagine the water tumbling over the rocks. Imagine butterflies hovering over new blossoms, and imagine your heart full of gratitude.

And breathe.

Sadness

I had a lot of plans for this evening. I was going to do a little bit of work to get ahead of things during a busy week at the office, and I was going to spend a couple of hours working on the rather mammoth room painting project I embarked upon last weekend. 

But I am finding that I do not have the energy or drive to do any of that tonight. I am sitting here contemplating happiness and sadness.  You see, a very dear colleague of mine passed away today.  We were the same age. Indeed, we started working at our company within weeks of each other. I'm not really sure which one of us started there first, but for as long as I have been there, she has been there too. We spent the greater part of our lives working together, and we shared many stories of our triumphs and tribulations over the years. We both loved music and singing. We both adored our families. We both loved books and reading. We both loved the outdoors and the beauty of the natural world.

We also both shared a history of cancer. She and I talked often after our first brushes with cancer, me with breast cancer and her with melanoma. We both felt so fortunate to have made it through the fires and come out the other side. We held so much gratitude for all the wonderful people and experiences in our lives.  And we both understood that life is fragile and that every day is a miracle.

When my cancer returned, she was among many who provided love and encouragement to me. She told me I was strong and that she was rooting for me. She smiled with me at each positive scan report, and we marveled at how far we have come with cancer treatment. And then about 18 months after my cancer returned, so did hers. It was my turn now to encourage her and to be certain that all the advancements in treatments would work for her too. Only, they didn't work for her, and each day became more difficult for her. 

Last week, I received news that my scans show that everything is still stable, and that I have no progression. This is just what we want to see, of course, but it feels a hollow victory today. And while I frequently write about finding the light in every situation, I also know that light is only meaningful if darkness also exists. Happiness can not truly exist without having known sadness. And I am realizing that it is OK to experience the darkness and it is OK to sit in the dark with the sadness and to let the tears come. 

Tonight I sit in the dark and cry, but I do so only because I am so very aware of the light that she was and the happiness she once brought to all her family and friends. Light and dark. Joy and sadness.They are all wrapped up together into this topsy-turvy experience we call life. And so I sorrowfully embrace the sadness tonight. And tomorrow morning I will witness again the miracle of the new day, and I will remember her laugh and her smile, and I know I will smile too. 

Return of the Light

Yesterday was the winter solstice.  It is no wonder that nearly every culture across the world has some kind of celebration of light this time of year. The days are short, and the nights are long, and the winter is cold and dark.  In ancient times, darkness was something to be feared.  They did not have light at the flip of a switch.  They did not have sturdy houses that would keep predators away. Crops were all dead, and food stores would not be replenished for several months.  A lot of bad things could happen in the dark.  The solstice celebration was a reminder that the sun would not be gone forever.  The life-bringing light would return, and with it the days of milk and honey. 

It seemed fitting that on the longest, darkest day of the year, I had my oncology treatment and an appointment with my doctor.  I was a bit apprehensive this time because I had my quarterly scans on Monday.  These included a bone scan to check on the status of the cancer in my bones, a CT scan to check the lymph, lungs, liver and bones, and an echocardiogram to make sure that the drugs I receive every three weeks are not adversely affecting my heart.  My oncologist is really good about making sure I get my test results as soon as possible, so when I saw the email Tuesday night that my test results were in, I opened the files with a little trepidation.  What would I find? Would everything still be OK?  

I was pretty sure it was going to be OK. I've been meditating on healing for a couple of weeks, and I had convinced myself that surely there would be a decrease, but at the very least everything would be totally stable.  The test reports were not, however, unambiguously good. My heart was fine. There was nothing new with the bones. The lungs were stable. But there were some new lesions in the liver. This was not at all what I expected.  I had been feeling so good! How could this possibly be true? As much as I try to maintain a sense of peace with things and accept things as they are, I did not find this news very peaceful at all. While my oncologist has often said that not every liver lesion is always cancer, I couldn't help but assume it was. My carefully constructed house did not have as firm a foundation as I had thought, and a sense of anxiety began to creep through the cracks.  I found myself in momentary darkness as I thought about what that could mean. Would I have to go through more chemo again? Would I have to try some other kind of drugs?   

I closed my eyes, and I went to all of the tools in my mindfulness toolbox.  I practiced EFT tapping, where I tap on meridian points in the body while releasing anxiety and giving myself positive affirmations.  I did some yoga sun salutations to release more pent-up anxiety. And I returned to my breath again and again over the next two days while I waited to hear what my oncologist would say.  And by the time my appointment rolled around on Thursday morning, I was back to a sense of peace and calm.  I knew I was OK, no matter what the scans said. I realized I had given away my power for a while to a scan report. Nothing had changed from Monday to Tuesday aside from a few little words. A few little blurry spots on a scan. I decided I didn't need to believe the scan. I still felt good. I still had everything I needed. I still had every reason to be happy. I still had every opportunity to make changes and take even better care of myself. Darkness would not win. It never does. All it takes is one small candle and darkness is gone. 

My oncologist is a wonderful woman.  She told me, "The people who read the scans - they don't know you. They don't know your history. They only see the scan and they make their report.  But I know you, and I wasn't convinced".  She didn't believe the scan results either, so she actually sat down herself with the radiologist to look at it carefully. They both agreed that it was not at all clear that these were new lesions and that I should not be worried. 

So, we decided we are going to have another look in six weeks just to make sure, and then we moved on to talking about Christmas plans, vacation plans, and good movies we've seen, and what our favorite foods are. Because when you have known your oncologist for ten years, you move on to the the things that really matter like your family, your friends, and the things you love to do that make life enjoyable. And I knew that everything really was OK and that those dark thoughts were simply thoughts, and they could be banished with the smallest of lights.  I lit my candle, and she added hers, and we both saw that there was more than enough light to make the darkness retreat. 

It only takes the light of one candle to extinguish the darkness. We, each of us, have our own candles to contribute to dispel the darkness. Think of how much light we can create together when each one of us shares our light with one another. 

The days do get dark. The nights can seem so long.  But in the darkest of times, never forget that the light will always return.    

The Power of Writing

Sometimes I write things that I don't post.  I intend to at the time that I'm writing, but something just doesn't feel right, or I just get stuck and don't quite know how to continue, or I can't figure out what the heck the point is that I'm trying to make. It is interesting to look back at some of these unfinished writings and see how much I have changed over the years.

We don't always notice how much we have changed.  We tend to believe our thinking is pretty static, but that just isn't true. I recently read a piece I started about seven years ago talking about food and what we should or shouldn't eat.  I never posted it, and now as I look back, I am pretty bemused by it. Who am I to say what you should eat?  I honestly don't know what each of us should eat. It's totally different for each of us.

It reminded me to look back on my Caring Bridge page from ten years ago when I went through cancer treatment the first time around, and I was a bit taken aback with how relentlessly chipper I was. I joked a lot and used a lot! of exclamation marks! As I look back at those posts now, I can see that I was desperately trying to make sure that nobody worried too much about me.  My posts were meant to convince everyone, including myself, that I was strong and that everything was going to be just fine! 

My writing now is a bit different - a bit more introspective. And so I found myself asking, why do I write anyway? Is it to get something off my chest? Is it to share information? Is it to impart some hard-won wisdom?  I think it's a little of all of those things. I think we tend to teach best what we most need to learn ourselves. By writing, I am reinforcing for myself what I want to learn. I am reinforcing for myself what I believe. I am still convincing myself of things just as I did ten years ago. When you put words to paper, it changes things. It makes things more real. It makes you really stop and consider. It makes you sift through the swirling thoughts in your head to create order out of the chaos.

When you write something, you are putting it out into the world to possibly be made manifest.  I think about how those words on the page create a reality.  They create a feeling when I am writing them, and they create a feeling when you are reading them.  This is pretty powerful stuff. Words create worlds. Do you know what the word "Abracadabra" means?  It's actually an ancient Aramaic word that means" as I speak, so I create". That's real magic. The words we say create reality.  The words we write are even more powerful because they are so much more permanent.  They live on long after we write them, and they continue to impact people again and again. 

And so I had to make a change on my blog page in the "About Me" section.  I realized that written there, to be read over and over again, by me and everyone else, was a statement about my health where I identified myself as someone with stage IV cancer.  This was how I presented my identity.  It was one of the few things I said about myself.  I ask you, how can I possibly change this about myself if I have it written down as part of how I define myself?  How can I convince myself of any other possibilities if I have that staring at me anytime I see my blog page?  And so it is gone. I have wiped it clear and now there are endless possibilities for how I choose to define myself. Now it reads that I am writing about the journey, not the destination.  I am writing about seeking and finding beauty. I am writing to change my world into the place I want it to be.

How powerful is the written word? Life changing.

Putting in the Work

I went to the garden center today at my local home improvement store and it was a pretty forlorn place.  All of the plants are gone now that fall is in full swing and the days are getting shorter and colder. Christmas decorations abounded inside the store as a reminder that winter is not so far off. Outside, in the area that usually holds so much life, there was almost nothing. There were a few random pots, a few dusty birdbaths, and hidden in a corner, was what I came for - the rack with the tulip bulbs.

I haven't planted tulips or other spring bulbs in a very long time.  The few that were in our yard had disappeared over the years to hungry squirrels and some difficult winters. But I love tulips. I love the crocuses that start coming up through the snow bringing the promise of winter's end. I swoon over the gorgeous scent of hyacinths as their fragrance foretells the explosion of warmth and color soon to come.  And so I made the effort today to find them.

It was a lovely sunny day here, and I eagerly went out to my flower beds in the front yard to start the business of planting.  It was so much harder than I remembered. Digging up compacted dirt is backbreaking work. Figuring out where to plant, and how deep to plant, and how they should be arranged, were all challenging. But the promise of a beautiful spring several months from now was worth the tired arms and sore back.

I don't know if I planted deeply enough or early enough. I don't know if the squirrels will dig them up.  I don't know if they will come up in the spring. But it was a powerful reminder that good things don't always come easily, and they don't come overnight. It's a slow process, and we have to get through some dark and challenging days with no certainty of the outcome. But we put in the work anyway, and then we trust that the work will pay off. And then one day, when we least expect it, we see a little green poking up through the snow.

It may be a long ways off, but here's to a beautiful spring.

Be Impeccable With Your Word

Many years ago, I read a book that changed me in many ways and continues to affect me every day.  The book was The Four Agreements, by Don Miguel Ruiz. He writes that we all make agreements every single day.  We make agreements that certain words mean certain things. We agree that certain ways of behaving are acceptable and others are not.  We make agreements about everything from what kind of toothpaste we think is right to buy to who gets to turn next at the four-way-stop. We make agreements about our beliefs. Some of our agreements are helpful and some are harmful. Some of our agreements make us miserable. But there are four agreements we can make that will transform our lives and help us to create peace and harmony within and without.

1. Be Impeccable With your Word.
2. Don't Take Anything Personally.
3. Don't Make Assumptions.
4. Always Do Your Best.

They seem simple, right? But they are much harder to master than one might think. The first agreement, "Be Impeccable With your Word", is the foundation. If we focus on mastering this one alone, it will change our lives completely.  Being impeccable means that we recognize the power of our words and use them with great care.  That's really where everything starts, isn't it?  Even the Bible says, "In the beginning was the Word." We can cause so much damage with our words. We can say the most awful things to one another and spread so much emotional poison through our words. We can incite crowds to violence or other destructive behaviors. We can spread lies, gossip and falsehoods. We can destroy lives, both our own lives and other lives, with simple words. A few simple words can create mistrust. A few simple words can destroy friendships. Words can raise blood pressure, cause fear and anger, and bring people to their knees in sobbing tears.

But words can also do just the opposite. Being impeccable with our word means we don't use our words to cause any harm. We don't use our words to gossip, to complain, to belittle or chastise. We don't use our words to spread hate and violence. We don't use our words against ourselves or against anyone else. Instead, we try to use our words to uplift, to encourage, to bring light and joy to others, and to ourselves. We use our words to inspire and make people smile. We use our words to spread love and kindness.

I am always conscious of the fact that our words have so much power.  Perhaps that is why I don't write posts very often. I try to be impeccable with my word, but it is so much harder than it seems.I read the news stories of the day, and I often am frustrated.  I find myself wanting to write and vent about the things that offend me. But then I remember this agreement, and I ask myself if it is really necessary for me do that.  Am I being impeccable? Am I using my words in a way that is helpful and not harmful?  How will it help if I just add my fuel to the verbal fire? The people that agree with my viewpoint will continue to see their blood pressure rise as I make the case for why something is so terrible.  The people that don't agree with me may also see their blood pressure rise in argument over what I might have to say.  There is nobody who wins in this scenario. We all end up frustrated and upset.

I am learning to be more conscious in the way I communicate. I don't always succeed, but I each day I try.  And I am learning to give words less power over me.  They are just words, mere squiggles on a page. They are simple thoughts, but thoughts are not real. Yet we have imbued those words with so much energy. Fear, anger, and hate are all words that have great power. Do you notice how you feel when you say any of those words?  Love, peace, and kindness are also powerful words.  How do they make you feel when you say them aloud? Which ones make you feel better?

I was reminded of this when I heard this story the other day:

LIFE IS AN ECHO

A son and his father were walking in the mountains. Suddenly, his son falls, hurts himself and screams: "AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

To his surprise, he hears the voice repeating, somewhere in the mountain: "AAAhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

Curious, he yells: "Who are you?"

He receives the answer: "Who are you?"

Angered at the response, he screams: "Coward!"

He receives the answer: "Coward!"

He looks to his father and asks: "What's going on?"

The father smiles and says: "My son, pay attention." And then he screams to the mountain: "I admire you!"

The voice answers: "I admire you!"

Again the man screams: "You are a champion!"

The voice answers: "You are a champion!"

The boy is surprised, but does not understand. Then the father explains: "People call this an echo, but really this is life. It gives you back everything you say or do. Our life is simply a reflection of our actions. If you want more love in the world, create more love in your heart. If you want more competence in your team, improve your competence.

This relationship applies to everything, in all aspects of life; life will give you back everything you have given to it.


We, each of us, create our own realities by the words we choose to use.  When we use fearful, angry, blaming or defensive words, guess what we tend to get back?  When we use kind, encouraging, and hopeful words, we tend to get those returned. 

I know which ones I'd rather get back.