A Time of Renewal

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July 13, 2023

In May I renewed my driver’s license. I remember, five years ago following my MBC diagnosis, this being high on the list of things I was pretty sure that I’d never do again. Since 75% of women diagnosed with Metastatic Breast Cancer don’t live beyond five years, I was fairly certain that I’d die before needing a new driver’s license. 

But here I am, marking my five year “Cancerversary” new driver’s license and all. I am, of course, grateful and happy to have the extra time. Simultaneously though, I find myself a bit baffled about what it looks like to move beyond five years. There is mounting evidence that women with MBC are living longer and that new treatments are being developed at a more rapid pace. While I might not live to see a cure for MBC, there is hope that the disease will be treated as more of a chronic illness instead of a terminal one. As doctors and other women living with MBC have often shared with me: “The longer you live, the longer you’ll live.”

For Dan and me, though, questions still remain: How do we channel the energy we’ve spent getting ready to die into focusing even more on living fully? Can we move beyond thinking about living in three month chunks even as scans continue every three months? When faced with death, and then living beyond what was expected, how do you move forward? What does it take to live indefinitely on meds that often make you feel really crummy and fatigued? What’s our mind frame for this next stage? What even is this next stage? 

So, we are taking this five year mark as a time of reflection (again) and renewal. Renewing our commitment to living each day with joy, intention, love and gratitude. To finding beauty in the small moments. To laughing a lot. To enjoying each other, our family and our friends. To new adventures. To serving our opportunities and not just our fears. 

We are so grateful for all of the love and support we have received over these past five years. It’s not remotely an overstatement to say that we are only at a more grounded and hopeful space thanks to all of the care we have received from so many. And here’s the thing – we are going to keep needing that love and our community even past this five year mark. That’s hard for us to say out loud because we are both pretty bad at asking for help. But, we know that living with an incurable illness and treatment side effects is a grind. And we know that MBC is a sneaky disease. And we know that you can go years with stable scans and then WHAM. So while making it past this milestone is incredibly encouraging, and while we are more hopeful than at any point since July 13, 2018, we also remain fearful and realistic and uncertain, and all gloriously mixed up. 

Here’s to five years. And to whatever is next. And to living and loving fully every day.

Cancer. I’m against it.

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Cancer. I’m against it. 

Today is the two year anniversary of my diagnosis and I am acutely aware of the impact metastatic breast cancer has had on my life. All that has been lost. All that has been taken away. All that is different. I’ve been encouraged by friends to be more open and explicitly share the challenges of living with MBC. So on this anniversary, I’m going to give it a try. This level of sharing doesn’t feel natural, but as Dan and my therapist say, it’s probably good for me.  

Cancer makes me feel less than myself. Simply put, I just don’t have the physical and emotional energy I used to have. 

My cancer scares those who love me.   

Cancer removes unadulterated joy. Things just aren’t as fun as they used to be. The cancer cloud hangs over everything. Sure, I can still have fun but things aren’t as light and carefree as they once were. 

Cancer has changed my relationships with my husband, friends and family. Dan and I have adopted different roles in our marriage. Friendships feel different with the overlay of cancer. People are more cautious and solicitous around me. Not all bad. Just very different.    

Cancer makes the future something I don’t look forward to. How could I? I know that this disease will likely kill me and I know the stories of how other women have died from this disease. It is scary, painful and sad. Imagining my life even three years from now is challenging.

Cancer negatively impacts holidays and special times. Even before a holiday or special event I find myself worrying about what feelings will come up for me. Will I get emotional? Will I compare this event to a similar event pre-cancer? Will this be the last time I get to do or experience something? 

Cancer prevents me from trusting my body. Every ache and pain causes alarm. Has the cancer spread? Or, is it just that I’m over 50? If I ignore a new pain am I being stupid and irresponsible? If I act on every new pain am I a hypochondriac? 

Nancy Stordahl (@nancyspoint), one of the bloggers I follow, wrote a memoir “Cancer Was Not a Gift and It Didn’t Make Me a Better Person” and I couldn’t agree more. The relentless nature of metastatic breast cancer is exhausting and all consuming. But, I am committed to living as fully as I can for as long I can. I have much to be grateful for in my life overall but today, on the second anniversary of my diagnosis, I am far more sad and mad about how my life has changed. 

Cancer. I’m against it.

Look Up

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I look down a lot – not on other people but when I’m walking. Did the dog poop? Is there a crack in the sidewalk? (I do have a propensity to fall so that one kinda makes sense.) Is there a stray sandwich on the ground that Doc could get? 

The other day, Doc and I were out walking our new route (in St. Helena California where we are spending the spring) when he decided to stop. He just sat down and there was no moving him. So, being that we had no particular schedule restraints I just let him be. In that moment I looked up and saw the most amazing view of sunshine and fog on the mountain side. It was incredible. Doc and I had walked this same route at least twice before and I had never noticed it. Too much looking down. What other things had I been missing? 

What I realized is that when you slow down and look up you can see some cool stuff. A street bearing the same name as a friend. Two stone bears a top pillars flanking a driveway. A tree in bloom. The moon. 

I find myself continually amazed at how interesting and beautiful the world is. I like to think I was pretty mindful even before my diagnosis but I’m still surprised by the things I miss. For me, I think, it’s about remembering to be in THIS moment.  This is especially true in the midst of all of the Coronavirus fear. Right now it’s even easier to look down both literally and figuratively and instead I want to keep reminding myself to look up. Right now, today. Observing and taking each moment one moment at a time. Who knows what I’ll see today and how it will make me feel? This type of attention and intention grounds me, gives me focus and instant gratification.  

So, on this scary cancer journey and in these days of Coronavirus I commit to looking up AND walking safely! 

Caregivers Have Feelings Too

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Last weekend Dan and I, along with my parents, attended the Midwest Metastatic Breast Cancer Conference. It was interesting and we learned a lot about medical research, clinical trials, palliative care, integrative health, and advocacy and got to connect with others living with MBC. Dan co-led a session on being a caregiver and that, combined with some thinking I was already doing, has me reflecting on the role of caregivers. 

The life of a caregiver is tough. Always putting the needs of the “care-getter” above their own. Sacrificing personal wants and needs for the other. And sometimes minimizing their own emotions and feelings of sadness about their loved one’s illness in order to keep a brave face.

As a care-getter with an amazing caregiver, I need to remember how hard this is for Dan. My cancer affects him deeply . . .And, he is allowed to show it. To others and to me. 

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve noticed Dan feeling more down than usual. He was going about his day-to-day life, but I sensed an unusually deep layer of sadness and discontent. Kind of one of those things that when I was healthy I’d wonder whether I’d done something to piss him off! But this time I heard the voice in my head saying: “Of course he is sad, his wife has a terminal illness.” Dan’s life has been turned upside down. Much of what we had hoped for and expected from our lives together is different now. 

It is interesting to experience how our relationship has changed since the early days of my diagnosis. Moving from “deal” mode, to settling into the ongoing reality that this is our life now. 

How do I as a care-getter support my caregiver? Can our roles ever switch back and forth? I’ve been trying to encourage Dan to do things that are fun for him and that don’t necessarily include me. However, he is often hesitant to do that because he wants to maximize our time together. But self-care for both of us is now more important than ever. How do I help him with his? Is there a way for us to have days where we step out of our caregiver/getter roles? Maybe not but perhaps we can redefine those roles to fit where we both are and what we both need right now. 

A New Job

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Over the course of my career, I’ve written many job descriptions. Actually, I kind of always hated writing job descriptions. How do you capture the essence of a position and how success will be measured? But, every role should have a job description – it’s a best practice.

Right after my diagnosis, Dan went out with his close friend and mentor Kari. She told him over breakfast that he “has a new job – being a caregiver.” That got us both thinking about our roles right now. So, at the time of huge change in our lives – a terminal cancer diagnosis and both of us having different relationships with work – it seemed like we need new job descriptions to guide us.

My “new job” includes some tasks that are exciting and others that are daunting. Some can be easily be addressed in the short term. And, others are more aspirational and have a longer time horizon.  I know I’ll be better at some of my “tasks” than others. But, it’s my hope that this job description will serve to guide me in focusing my energies in this new phase of life.

Here is my new job description . . . .

Be grateful and graceful in all interactions: late-stage cancer is scary for everyone. Be kind and generous with those who put their feet in their mouths. Their words come from a place of concern and love

Look for beauty and purpose in the dying process: create opportunities for reflection

Share love freely: Tell people how you feel about them. Write some letters, send some emails, give some hugs

Comfort, support, guide and prepare my husband, parents, and sisters: be open with feelings and thoughts on end of life, talk and see each other regularly

Share my story and my learnings with others diagnosed with terminal illness: start a blog, write a book

Help educate my community about MBC: no sugar coating or skirting the hard topics

Be my own best caregiver: exercise regularly, rest when tired, take meds, keep doctor appointments, inform care team of new symptoms or side effects

Leave my nieces and nephews with memories of me and fun times together: take pictures, schedule outings, plan a big trip, send postcards and letters

Accept help: let people love and support me by bringing meals, walking the dog, cleaning the  house, etc.

Look at each day as a new adventure: use our “buckets” as a guide, plan each day – even if the plan is to do very little

Stay curious and keep engaged with the world: read, do crossword puzzles, play cards, travel to new places

Put a premium on having fun: do things that make me happy, try new things, express my wants and desires

Plan my funeral, find a cemetery and get my things in order

Overwhelm my husband with love, gratitude, kindness, and good memories

Be gentle on myself: this shit is hard

Forming Habits That Connect Us

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I can see how a cancer diagnosis can tear a couple apart. The fear, the insecurity and the stress could easily become insurmountable. One of the things we’ve found helpful is to maintain old habits and develop new ones that keep us connected. In fact, one of our new life “buckets” (see our last post for more on those) that we try to practice daily is connection.

For the last three years, Dan has been writing in a gratitude journal every night. I joined him in the nightly ritual about two years ago. Now, each night before bed we take time to write, independently, in our gratitude journals. Just two or three or ten things from the day for which we are grateful. Neither of us goes to sleep before asking the other “did you write in your book?” This shared practice of gratitude keeps us grounded in the positive. (Although, on my dark days I can struggle. And, I admit to a few less than grateful entries.)

A new habit we developed is taking a little time each morning to randomly choose and then read together an Affirminator card. Our dear friend, Beth, gave a deck of these cards to Cassie a while back (you can find them on Amazon). The cards have fun, affirming messages that connect us and get us in the right frame of mind to start our days.

These simple habits have been helping us maintain a closeness and shared perspective.

Here is our Affirminator from today –

“No Need To Do:  I am exactly where I need to be, exactly when I need to be. There’s nothing more I need to do. I mean, yes, there will always be laundry and taxes – but in terms of my life’s path, I don’t need to do anything because I am already here. I take a deep breath, relax, and trust (and then do laundry).”