I had an incredible, inspiring, frightening and frustrating experience last week. I went down to DC to advocate for additional funding for cancer research, and pancreatic cancer in particular. I met with my excellent Congressman (Pallone) and the aides to my two Senators. Seeing firsthand our political process at work was both exhilarating and exasperating.
It was scary to be so vividly reminded of the statistics of my disease - the five-year survival rate of 6%, the mere 40 or so survivors in a room of nearly 500 advocates, the many many tragic stories of family and friends that were taken by the disease. Sadly, the pancreatic cancer survival rate has increased minimally in the last 40 years. It is the only major cancer with survival rates that are still in the single digits. The fourth deadliest cancer receives only 2% of federal cancer funding. I am 44 with 4 year-old children who I don't want to have facing the same bleak odds in 40 years should the genetic curse prove true. Even for those blessed enough to have had the Whipple surgery (as I did), the five-year survival rate is 30%. [With absolutely no basis for this hope, I am counting on being in the 30%.]
It astounds me that several hundred people need to show up year after year, applying constant pressure, to generate the necessary support to increase funding for life-saving cancer research. And yet the funding for a new weapons system that even the military itself isn't asking for sails through with minimal scrutiny. Specifically, the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network is advocating for a $5.79 billion budget for the National Cancer Institute to support cancer research. That may sound like a lot of money but to put it into perspective…the US spent at least $150 billion on the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq last year. So, every two weeks we spend as much for wars (that somehow benefit us?) as we do in a whole year to try to improve the health of all Americans.
My frustration and anger at our national priorities becomes even more intense when I consider what it means for others. My cousin is younger than me with two kids younger than mine battling an aggressive cancer that won't quit. Very sadly, most of us know of such stories. Knowing that we have the resources to do much more and choose not to incenses me.
Some of you may know that I have very strong political convictions. (Just ask my father-in-law.) I have mostly stayed away from that stuff here. But…our tax money is being spent people! It is for us to decide on the how/where. Just like each of us does for our personal budgets at home – we make choices. For the one party to refuse to co-sponsor an increase in cancer research under the guise of being fiscally conservative is maddening. It's BS actually. There is no escaping the fact that we have been choosing elective war and subsidies for corporate America. As a result, people we love dearly are dying unnecessarily abroad and at home.
As it says in Matthew's Gospel – "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also". My heart is with people. I went to DC because I would like to see more of our treasure directed to helping people. My experience of democracy in action was that it's not very efficient but it is the best we got. Like life, it is a beautiful and frustrating thing. It often doesn't turn out as you'd hoped. Welcome to it.
PS - I belong to the NJ Chapter of the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network. I'd like to invite you to a funds and awareness raiser on Sunday, July 18th. Join Noah, Ana, Jacquelyn & me at a Somerset Patriots (minor league baseball) game at 5:05 that night. Part of the ticket sales will go to the organization to fund advocacy and research into cures. Drop me an e-mail (franco_juricic@merck.com) if you'd like to attend. I am hoping to have a whole crew of family and friends going. So, besides being for a good cause it should be great fun!
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Grace and Acts
What is the balance between grace and acts in our lives? In my life and cancer, I have struggled with the place of what God grants us and what I deserve in my getting sick and getting well.
We generally look at life and judge fairness on the basis of our actions. That perspective implies that we do, and ought to, get what we deserve in life. "What goes around comes around", the notion of karma, and even the Golden Rule (if stretched) are based on this principle. If you do good, you get good. On the other hand, if you don't, don't be surprised if you get a dose of your own medicine (as another saying goes). Grace, on the other hand, is an allowance - usually a positive - that we are given by God independent of whether we deserve it or not.
Since being first diagnosed, I've spent some time wondering what I did to deserve pancreatic cancer. I kept a fairly healthy diet and have been mostly veggie-eating in my adult life. I enjoyed exercise and would celebrate a beautiful day with a good run. I went for regular check-ups. Not to say that I avoided all drink and the rest but I wouldn't say that I was in any way an outlier in terms of "sins" against the body. And on the mind/emotional level, I took (what I would consider) active care of myself. I have been meditating on and off since high school. I have a few years of productive therapy under my belt. I have a wide and deep circle of supportive friends and family.
So how then is it me that is diagnosed with a relatively rare cancer (that strikes <40,000 Americans a year) at a relatively young age (further rare)? That's where the disconnect happens. What did I do to deserve this "bad" thing? Am I being punished? The "why me?" question also lingers in wondering why I am among the very few blessed to be pancreatic cancer survivors. What did I do for this second opportunity to do the good that I was intended to do?
As it turns out – life isn't fair. Nobody said it was. Least of all God. And that's exactly why we have grace. Even if you accept the premise that we can earn our way into heaven with good acts, that doesn't ensure that we'll get what we deserve (good or bad) while here on Earth. Justice in the afterlife is no assurance of a fair shake in this one.
In Christianity, the balance between the significance of grace versus acts represents a difference amongst the various denominations. It is not an insignificant distinction. Do we earn our lot in life? Does God only save those that are worthy – both in this world and the next? It is a fundamental question that we'd just as soon not have to consider.
Personally, I believe strongly in God's grace. I've always struggled with the angry and punishing God that smites sinners. God's grace is an exquisitely beautiful example of our human potential. None of us is entitled to God's grace and yet it is granted to us. It epitomizes the New Testament's compassion and hope to counterpoint the Old Testament's eye for an eye. Grace helps me to explain why I am still here.
Ultimately, I've realized that the most beautiful thing about God's grace is that it isn't on the same continuum with acts anymore. Jesus' death broke the progression. Acts are still important. Love your neighbor is still front and center. But Jesus offers us grace apart from acts, grace and love above and beyond anything we could do to deserve it. That is amazing! It challenges each of us to love unconditionally too. And…it frees me from wondering about the merits of my diseased life and cheated death.
We generally look at life and judge fairness on the basis of our actions. That perspective implies that we do, and ought to, get what we deserve in life. "What goes around comes around", the notion of karma, and even the Golden Rule (if stretched) are based on this principle. If you do good, you get good. On the other hand, if you don't, don't be surprised if you get a dose of your own medicine (as another saying goes). Grace, on the other hand, is an allowance - usually a positive - that we are given by God independent of whether we deserve it or not.
Since being first diagnosed, I've spent some time wondering what I did to deserve pancreatic cancer. I kept a fairly healthy diet and have been mostly veggie-eating in my adult life. I enjoyed exercise and would celebrate a beautiful day with a good run. I went for regular check-ups. Not to say that I avoided all drink and the rest but I wouldn't say that I was in any way an outlier in terms of "sins" against the body. And on the mind/emotional level, I took (what I would consider) active care of myself. I have been meditating on and off since high school. I have a few years of productive therapy under my belt. I have a wide and deep circle of supportive friends and family.
So how then is it me that is diagnosed with a relatively rare cancer (that strikes <40,000 Americans a year) at a relatively young age (further rare)? That's where the disconnect happens. What did I do to deserve this "bad" thing? Am I being punished? The "why me?" question also lingers in wondering why I am among the very few blessed to be pancreatic cancer survivors. What did I do for this second opportunity to do the good that I was intended to do?
As it turns out – life isn't fair. Nobody said it was. Least of all God. And that's exactly why we have grace. Even if you accept the premise that we can earn our way into heaven with good acts, that doesn't ensure that we'll get what we deserve (good or bad) while here on Earth. Justice in the afterlife is no assurance of a fair shake in this one.
In Christianity, the balance between the significance of grace versus acts represents a difference amongst the various denominations. It is not an insignificant distinction. Do we earn our lot in life? Does God only save those that are worthy – both in this world and the next? It is a fundamental question that we'd just as soon not have to consider.
Personally, I believe strongly in God's grace. I've always struggled with the angry and punishing God that smites sinners. God's grace is an exquisitely beautiful example of our human potential. None of us is entitled to God's grace and yet it is granted to us. It epitomizes the New Testament's compassion and hope to counterpoint the Old Testament's eye for an eye. Grace helps me to explain why I am still here.
Ultimately, I've realized that the most beautiful thing about God's grace is that it isn't on the same continuum with acts anymore. Jesus' death broke the progression. Acts are still important. Love your neighbor is still front and center. But Jesus offers us grace apart from acts, grace and love above and beyond anything we could do to deserve it. That is amazing! It challenges each of us to love unconditionally too. And…it frees me from wondering about the merits of my diseased life and cheated death.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Lightness of Being (With Others)
What keeps us honest in life? Rules and laws, and the resultant consequences, do in some cases. The threat of a summons keeps me towing the 25 mph speed limit on that road into Highland Park where I've seen all too many outsiders get snagged. But what about in the less tangible areas of our lives? What keeps us honest in private? It could be religious beliefs. For some, it's the lure of heaven or threat of hell; that ever-present, omniscient God. Or maybe it is shame – embarrassment at what others might think or say. Ultimately, it is that other set of eyes (whose ever they might be) that keeps us honest with ourselves.
When Jacquelyn was away for the weekend recently – even though my primary focus was on taking care of Ana and Noah – I goofed off a bit. I stayed up late, I didn't clean up (as readily), etc. Along those same lines, I realized that it's the absence of a support structure that frees us of accountability. Sometimes folks deliberately keep others at a distance or choose not to let them in because they don't want to answer to another. Surprisingly, though, that is precisely one of the beautiful upsides that a family, friend or church community can offer us. We lose a little something when we choose not to count on another or allow others to count on us. Other people remind us of our greatest potential. To not be part of such community may seem more free – and may well be in one sense. But, ultimately, less genuine and so less full/rewarding.
I am blessed to be surrounded by a wonderful community of family and friends. I can personally attest to the profound impact that having people who care for you in your life can have. In terms of my illness, it is the people in my life – the little and grown-up ones – that buoy my spirits daily. Every time someone asks how I am doing and I can recognize by their facial expression or inflection that they mean it more than just politely – another brick is placed, strengthening my bond to them.
Think about those people you know that have hit "rock bottom". They typically keep anyone that might interfere w/what they want to do – their tendency for "badness", their freedom (basically, all that leads to their downward spiral) – at a safe distance. Unfortunately, I personally know of a couple of such instances unfolding around me right now. Saddest of all is that there is no way to help. It's tough to get in when the world of another is set up expressly to keep you out. It may feel better and safer for a while. But, ultimately, rock bottom is the place that you find yourself when you can no longer deny what those around you have been trying to warn you about all along.
It happens on a big and small scale. We all do it to ourselves at least a little bit. In the end, how deep a hole is proportional to how alone you insisted on being along the way.
Further, for those who deliberately avoid intimacy w/others, they forfeit not only the potential for support if situations get rough, but a mirror for the day-to-day reflections that help them stay honest and avoid that dark place. It is the presence of people who care for us in our lives that lifts us up. Not only that, that same support keeps us from falling too far.
I wholeheartedly believe that the fullness of life can only be experienced in the company of others. Other people and loving them as best as we can is all that life is about. From my humble perspective, the rest of it – the job, the house, the gadgets, the grudges - is just self-deception and distraction. So, let somebody love you every chance that you get.
When Jacquelyn was away for the weekend recently – even though my primary focus was on taking care of Ana and Noah – I goofed off a bit. I stayed up late, I didn't clean up (as readily), etc. Along those same lines, I realized that it's the absence of a support structure that frees us of accountability. Sometimes folks deliberately keep others at a distance or choose not to let them in because they don't want to answer to another. Surprisingly, though, that is precisely one of the beautiful upsides that a family, friend or church community can offer us. We lose a little something when we choose not to count on another or allow others to count on us. Other people remind us of our greatest potential. To not be part of such community may seem more free – and may well be in one sense. But, ultimately, less genuine and so less full/rewarding.
I am blessed to be surrounded by a wonderful community of family and friends. I can personally attest to the profound impact that having people who care for you in your life can have. In terms of my illness, it is the people in my life – the little and grown-up ones – that buoy my spirits daily. Every time someone asks how I am doing and I can recognize by their facial expression or inflection that they mean it more than just politely – another brick is placed, strengthening my bond to them.
Think about those people you know that have hit "rock bottom". They typically keep anyone that might interfere w/what they want to do – their tendency for "badness", their freedom (basically, all that leads to their downward spiral) – at a safe distance. Unfortunately, I personally know of a couple of such instances unfolding around me right now. Saddest of all is that there is no way to help. It's tough to get in when the world of another is set up expressly to keep you out. It may feel better and safer for a while. But, ultimately, rock bottom is the place that you find yourself when you can no longer deny what those around you have been trying to warn you about all along.
It happens on a big and small scale. We all do it to ourselves at least a little bit. In the end, how deep a hole is proportional to how alone you insisted on being along the way.
Further, for those who deliberately avoid intimacy w/others, they forfeit not only the potential for support if situations get rough, but a mirror for the day-to-day reflections that help them stay honest and avoid that dark place. It is the presence of people who care for us in our lives that lifts us up. Not only that, that same support keeps us from falling too far.
I wholeheartedly believe that the fullness of life can only be experienced in the company of others. Other people and loving them as best as we can is all that life is about. From my humble perspective, the rest of it – the job, the house, the gadgets, the grudges - is just self-deception and distraction. So, let somebody love you every chance that you get.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
It Is What It Is
A couple of weeks ago, just as I was getting ready for bed, I suddenly started feeling sharp pains in my abdomen. As far as causes, none of the usual suspects seemed to make sense. I had pretty much the same food as the rest of the family; I didn't have a fever, nausea or diarrhea; everything seemed normal except for the pain. For me these days, any inexplicable pain in my midsection is a cause for concern. My serious Syrian gastroenterologist ordered a little blood work and kindly squeezed me in first thing the second morning. She figures that it was likely scar tissue causing a kink in my intestines creating a temporary blockage. I now recognized that the same thing had happened to me last August. Ultimately, I thank God in relief that that's all it was. Compared to the alternatives, I will gladly deal w/a little knot in my gut from time to time.
That scare was followed a few days later by another positive milestone on my path to continued surviving. I had my chemo port removed about 15 months after it was put in. I talked my doctor into pulling it a little bit before the one year anniversary of the end of my treatment. July will be a year, but my next scan isn't until the end of summer. Since I wouldn't likely know that anything is wrong till after that, we are taking a more optimistic approach. Having ditched the unsightly protuberance, I'm thinking that I'll be a lock for best body on the beach competition this summer.
And so it is that we take our little victories in life. Some could always argue that it could be better. Some might not recognize that it could always be worse. Life is full of milestones and messages. They are all good or bad or both. More than anything, they are all relative.
That scare was followed a few days later by another positive milestone on my path to continued surviving. I had my chemo port removed about 15 months after it was put in. I talked my doctor into pulling it a little bit before the one year anniversary of the end of my treatment. July will be a year, but my next scan isn't until the end of summer. Since I wouldn't likely know that anything is wrong till after that, we are taking a more optimistic approach. Having ditched the unsightly protuberance, I'm thinking that I'll be a lock for best body on the beach competition this summer.
And so it is that we take our little victories in life. Some could always argue that it could be better. Some might not recognize that it could always be worse. Life is full of milestones and messages. They are all good or bad or both. More than anything, they are all relative.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Choosing Hope
I will never forget striding down Main St in Highland Park on that gloriously sunny Election Day morning 18 months ago. It was only the fourth morning since my cancer diagnosis and yet I was filled with an overwhelming sense of hope. I felt that what was going on in the country was a reflection of what could happen for me. It wasn't that everything was going to be perfect from now on. There were no guarantees of anything – not for me and not for us. But there was hope where there had not been any. It was a new day and upside potentials seemed attainable again.
My strut that morning is perfectly explained by a quote from a terrific book by Jim Wallis called "God's Politics". "More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even religious choice. Hope is not a feeling; it is a decision. And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels – what your most basic convictions are about the world and what the future holds – all based on your faith. You can choose hope, not as a naïve wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world – just like the cynics who have not made the decision for hope." The idea that hope is a choice and a reflection of faith is very empowering to me both personally and politically.
Even though it has been a couple of weeks since the milestone of some progress on health care in this great country of ours – the luster has not faded. That milestone represents some of the hope becoming a reality. And that is really important! For me personally, it could turn out to be critical. I have a "pre-existing condition". My health-care employer is eliminating 15% of it workforce. (It's called "value capture" after a merger.) It is not far-fetched to see that I could be unemployed with that pre-existing condition. That would be a very difficult situation for me and my family to face. Many have had their hopes challenged, faith tested and lives ruined by similar scenarios in the richest nation on earth.
I've seen that decision for hope play out well, with God's help, when it came to my physical health. That decision was based on my deepest beliefs, my faith. To live with cancer is to live every day with faith. It is that same way that our deepest beliefs are playing out politically. Do you believe we should take care of our poor, our uninsured, sick? To answer those questions we need to need to check in with our faith. Take that Sunday (or Friday or Saturday) faith and apply it everyday. Apply it to your neighbor. Not just the ones you know but the ones you don't.
Consider too, the alternate to deciding to hope. It would mean, for me, creating a more fallow space for my cancer to thrive. It means a world where it is every man, woman and child for themselves; a survival of the fittest or most blessed. It means accepting less than the kingdom of God here on earth, now. Is that really the path we choose? I don't.
The opposite of cynicism isn't blind optimism but action. And action requires a decision based on hope. Let's all strut proudly with our heads up, knowing we have decided on hope, are taking care of our neighbors and living our faith.
My strut that morning is perfectly explained by a quote from a terrific book by Jim Wallis called "God's Politics". "More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even religious choice. Hope is not a feeling; it is a decision. And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels – what your most basic convictions are about the world and what the future holds – all based on your faith. You can choose hope, not as a naïve wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world – just like the cynics who have not made the decision for hope." The idea that hope is a choice and a reflection of faith is very empowering to me both personally and politically.
Even though it has been a couple of weeks since the milestone of some progress on health care in this great country of ours – the luster has not faded. That milestone represents some of the hope becoming a reality. And that is really important! For me personally, it could turn out to be critical. I have a "pre-existing condition". My health-care employer is eliminating 15% of it workforce. (It's called "value capture" after a merger.) It is not far-fetched to see that I could be unemployed with that pre-existing condition. That would be a very difficult situation for me and my family to face. Many have had their hopes challenged, faith tested and lives ruined by similar scenarios in the richest nation on earth.
I've seen that decision for hope play out well, with God's help, when it came to my physical health. That decision was based on my deepest beliefs, my faith. To live with cancer is to live every day with faith. It is that same way that our deepest beliefs are playing out politically. Do you believe we should take care of our poor, our uninsured, sick? To answer those questions we need to need to check in with our faith. Take that Sunday (or Friday or Saturday) faith and apply it everyday. Apply it to your neighbor. Not just the ones you know but the ones you don't.
Consider too, the alternate to deciding to hope. It would mean, for me, creating a more fallow space for my cancer to thrive. It means a world where it is every man, woman and child for themselves; a survival of the fittest or most blessed. It means accepting less than the kingdom of God here on earth, now. Is that really the path we choose? I don't.
The opposite of cynicism isn't blind optimism but action. And action requires a decision based on hope. Let's all strut proudly with our heads up, knowing we have decided on hope, are taking care of our neighbors and living our faith.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Flipping the Hourglass
What was your experience of God when you were younger?
Several of us considered that recently. One woman felt God enveloping her as she sat in the forest behind her house with her little girl legs dangling in a stream. Religion for another was a 5-mile walk down to the Empire State Building with her dog as a kid. Folks talked about churches and religion – both pro and con. Many of the images were moving and beautiful.
I realized that I didn't experience God very directly as a young person. God wasn't much of a physical presence for me. He wasn't "there" anywhere. I lumped it all together – God, religion, the Church. I spoke about them almost interchangeably. Many people do.
In hindsight, I see that my rank order of what I identified with most spiritually in my first 30+ years was (1) Church, (2) religion and (3) God. Church was a place full of ritual and a stoic institution for me. Religion is a set of rules and beliefs. God was this all-powerful bearded man in the sky with a glorious Son.
Not that any of these is bad. Still, I am glad that my association with each of these has changed some. My hierarchy has completely flipped now - like an hourglass, as I embark on the second half of my life. My new order of identification is God, religion and then Church. Religion remains the center point - representing the collective knowledge and historical spiritual understanding. But the other two have reversed their order.
The importance of the particular Sunday rituals and the power of the institution of Church have diminished greatly for me. Different churches and sects are mere vehicles in my mind. Like a car. It's the destination that's important, not the brand you drive. Whichever type of spirituality works for you is fine in my eyes - so long as it gets you to the endpoint, God. (As you can tell, I am not particularly Evangelical.) Don't get me wrong, I love going to Church (the building). There has to be a very good reason for me to miss it. It's where I recharge my spiritual batteries. It's one of the places that I find God these days - but just one.
God means something else entirely to me now. God's not that far away anymore. God is people. God is by that stream. God is on those streets. God is in our every action. God is in our every omission. It's been easier for me to see God because I've been travelling with an exceptional posse lately. It turns out that he is everywhere, though – it's just a matter of seeing him. In the same way that it is very easy to see God in the wonders of our children and our loves. God is in the hearts of every one of us. That realization really makes life an incredibly precious and vibrant journey.
Several of us considered that recently. One woman felt God enveloping her as she sat in the forest behind her house with her little girl legs dangling in a stream. Religion for another was a 5-mile walk down to the Empire State Building with her dog as a kid. Folks talked about churches and religion – both pro and con. Many of the images were moving and beautiful.
I realized that I didn't experience God very directly as a young person. God wasn't much of a physical presence for me. He wasn't "there" anywhere. I lumped it all together – God, religion, the Church. I spoke about them almost interchangeably. Many people do.
In hindsight, I see that my rank order of what I identified with most spiritually in my first 30+ years was (1) Church, (2) religion and (3) God. Church was a place full of ritual and a stoic institution for me. Religion is a set of rules and beliefs. God was this all-powerful bearded man in the sky with a glorious Son.
Not that any of these is bad. Still, I am glad that my association with each of these has changed some. My hierarchy has completely flipped now - like an hourglass, as I embark on the second half of my life. My new order of identification is God, religion and then Church. Religion remains the center point - representing the collective knowledge and historical spiritual understanding. But the other two have reversed their order.
The importance of the particular Sunday rituals and the power of the institution of Church have diminished greatly for me. Different churches and sects are mere vehicles in my mind. Like a car. It's the destination that's important, not the brand you drive. Whichever type of spirituality works for you is fine in my eyes - so long as it gets you to the endpoint, God. (As you can tell, I am not particularly Evangelical.) Don't get me wrong, I love going to Church (the building). There has to be a very good reason for me to miss it. It's where I recharge my spiritual batteries. It's one of the places that I find God these days - but just one.
God means something else entirely to me now. God's not that far away anymore. God is people. God is by that stream. God is on those streets. God is in our every action. God is in our every omission. It's been easier for me to see God because I've been travelling with an exceptional posse lately. It turns out that he is everywhere, though – it's just a matter of seeing him. In the same way that it is very easy to see God in the wonders of our children and our loves. God is in the hearts of every one of us. That realization really makes life an incredibly precious and vibrant journey.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Receiving My Sentence (Great News!)
These past five months have been the longest stretch with no attention to my cancer in the nearly year and a half since this adventure started. I had a CAT scan last Tuesday and the results are…all clear! The appointment with my oncologist was snow-cancelled but he did call to say that the scan showed nothing suspicious. Praise the Lord! I met with him this morning and I will be on a six-month schedule for the next couple of years. He also agreed to have my chemo port removed – in the hopeful belief that I won't be needing it anytime soon.
Moving from getting scanned every three months to (almost) six was progress but certainly anxiety-producing. It's a little bit like waiting for the sentencing phase after a conviction. And thank God, this time again – I have been spared! I could tell myself heading into it that I am fine, based primarily on how I feel. That would be conveniently ignoring the fact that I felt fine for most of the time that the cancer was growing inside me last time.
The continuation of clean can also lend credibility to alleged cancer-avoiding behaviors I've adopted like – a couple of green teas daily, lowering stress, restarting my meditation practice, minimizing the intake of fat/sugar/white flour and other underminers, etc. On the other hand, one could argue that the culpability factor is a little less pronounced in the instance of a recurrence – meaning that if you are susceptible and/or have it in you, such is your fate. Who can know?
I am also reminded of my feelings of helplessness from 14 months ago. A few weeks after my surgery, I felt powerless considering the possibility of not having any chemo or radiation to do. That would mean just hoping and praying and waiting. That's been pretty much what I've been doing since finishing up my chemo last July. I have been tending to more functional aspects of my body and health instead, like fixing broken teeth and achy feet (planters fasciitis). Some of the mundane self-care tasks that are only worth doing for those that are counting on being around long enough to see the payoff.
So, now, with the clean scan result, folks have been congratulating me. I appreciate the sentiment in the sense of a cause for celebration. At the same time it leaves me searching for a response since I did little (nothing) to deserve the congrats. (I actually looked up the word congratulations to find that it is "an expression of pleasure or acknowledgment of somebody's success or good fortune or on a special occasion".) Good fortune it is then! I don't pretend that slightly cleaner living, green tea and a good outlook on life are keeping the evil cancer away. Instead, I recognize that it is the power of prayer that gives me strength and, most importantly, the grace and goodness of God that have kept me here. For the former I have many of you to thank. For the rest, I can only thank God – that his master plan includes having me around for a while longer.
I look forward to having all of my "cat" mentions refer to the feline persuasion for the next six months.
Moving from getting scanned every three months to (almost) six was progress but certainly anxiety-producing. It's a little bit like waiting for the sentencing phase after a conviction. And thank God, this time again – I have been spared! I could tell myself heading into it that I am fine, based primarily on how I feel. That would be conveniently ignoring the fact that I felt fine for most of the time that the cancer was growing inside me last time.
The continuation of clean can also lend credibility to alleged cancer-avoiding behaviors I've adopted like – a couple of green teas daily, lowering stress, restarting my meditation practice, minimizing the intake of fat/sugar/white flour and other underminers, etc. On the other hand, one could argue that the culpability factor is a little less pronounced in the instance of a recurrence – meaning that if you are susceptible and/or have it in you, such is your fate. Who can know?
I am also reminded of my feelings of helplessness from 14 months ago. A few weeks after my surgery, I felt powerless considering the possibility of not having any chemo or radiation to do. That would mean just hoping and praying and waiting. That's been pretty much what I've been doing since finishing up my chemo last July. I have been tending to more functional aspects of my body and health instead, like fixing broken teeth and achy feet (planters fasciitis). Some of the mundane self-care tasks that are only worth doing for those that are counting on being around long enough to see the payoff.
So, now, with the clean scan result, folks have been congratulating me. I appreciate the sentiment in the sense of a cause for celebration. At the same time it leaves me searching for a response since I did little (nothing) to deserve the congrats. (I actually looked up the word congratulations to find that it is "an expression of pleasure or acknowledgment of somebody's success or good fortune or on a special occasion".) Good fortune it is then! I don't pretend that slightly cleaner living, green tea and a good outlook on life are keeping the evil cancer away. Instead, I recognize that it is the power of prayer that gives me strength and, most importantly, the grace and goodness of God that have kept me here. For the former I have many of you to thank. For the rest, I can only thank God – that his master plan includes having me around for a while longer.
I look forward to having all of my "cat" mentions refer to the feline persuasion for the next six months.
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