Since Cancer

The worst thing that could be,
Has already happened to me.
The surgeon said I had
Cancer.

But I’m still standing,
No longer demanding
That God should (please!)
Take care of me.

Not hope, but faith
Is left in cancer’s wake
And survival has inspired me
To be bolder.

I know worry is a waste,
And I’ve left that hurried pace
Time is too precious and
Life needs me.

I take new steps each day,
Letting love light my way
And give wings to childhood dreams
Still inside me.

The worst thing that could be,
Has already happened to me
But my life is much richer since
Cancer.

Cancer – A Public Service Announcement

I recently learned that a friend of mine died after a long battle with cancer. The news came to me while I was in a blissful state of mind, following a recent visit to my oncologist. I was told that I’m cancer-free and was filled with gratitude. I’d been contacting my family and friends, sharing good news and thinking how different these calls were, compared to those I’d made when I was first diagnosed. Now I’m picturing my friend’s family, making the saddest calls of all.

Cancer takes lives in many ways. It may last for decades, with alternating periods of illness and remission. It can claim its victims after a few years, because the organ it’s invaded is more vulnerable or the type of cancer is more deadly. And cancer might also be fatal within a few months, because it was diagnosed too late and treatment is futile. I’ve heard too many of these stories, lately. “He was gone in three months!” “She felt fine, but her new job required a physical and they discovered she had cancer.” “He was only 35; they don’t do a colonoscopy until you’re 50!” The last remark was made by a nurse who was tending to me during my recent check-up.

It’s common knowledge that the earlier cancer is detected, the better the outcome will be. Having periodic diagnostic tests is very important, but I’d like to discuss another important component of cancer prevention. I’ll briefly tell you my story, even though the details are very “personal.” My heartfelt intention is to help anyone I can by sharing my experience with this life-changing illness.

While I was at work one day, I used the bathroom and was surprised to discover a small amount of blood in the toilet. Obviously, I was somewhat concerned, but I felt fine, so I returned to my desk. About an hour later, I became a bit dizzy and called a friend who drove me to the hospital ER. After an examination, the doctor told me I had an internal hemorrhoid that had developed a blood clot. I asked what the treatment was and the doctor said no treatment would be necessary. She suggested I “wait until it becomes too annoying” and at that point contact a surgeon, who would remove the hemorrhoid with a simple procedure.

It’s my opinion that if something’s in your body that isn’t supposed to be there, it should be removed. Waiting can necessitate a more involved or extensive procedure; I prefer to nip my medical issues in the bud. So, the next day I called a few surgeons for a second opinion. During one call I was asked “Were you bleeding?” When I answered “Yes,” I was told “We need to see you today.”

During my visit, I was examined and three biopsies were taken. Four days later the surgeon called me to explain that I had a rare form of rectal cancer. Luckily, further tests revealed I was in Stage One, but the tumor was growing rapidly, so my treatment needed to begin ASAP. The goal was to avoid surgery through the aggressive use of chemotherapy and radiation. I met with my team of doctors, learned as much as I needed to be an active participant in my cancer treatment, spiritually prepared myself for “battle,” and with loving support from my family and friends went through four months of treatment, eventually emerging as a grateful cancer survivor. My tumor was completely destroyed and I did not need surgery!

When I tell my friends this story, almost every one of them remarks, “I would have just gone home and waited for the situation to worsen,” as was suggested to me in the ER. One of my physicians remarked that oncologists rarely see a case of rectal cancer in Stage One, because people assume they have an internal hemorrhoid or simply ignore their symptoms. I recently read that instances of this type of cancer are increasing, because most people wait until they’re in real distress before seeing a physician.

The point I feel compelled to make is this: Pay attention to your body’s signals and take action. I realize that many people avoid second opinions or doctor visits because they fear hearing “bad news.” However, if you let fear guide you, the news you get at a later date could be worse than what you’ll hear today. It’s been said that we’re motivated by either fear or love. Please, love your body and listen as it guides you!

Have We Met?

Is it possible to say “Thank You!” and “You’re Welcome!” with just one sentence? Is it plausible for someone to give and receive in the same moment? Is it realistic to say you know someone, if you haven’t ever met? These questions and their answers (Yes! Yes! Yes!) prompted me to ponder being a reader, a writer and, most recently, a blogger.

If I had to squeeze all of my feelings about blogging into just one word, it would be gratitude. I am deeply grateful to “meet” you here in the WordPress community. Not just to “meet you,” as in “Hello, my name is Laura,” but to meet you during the invisible action that is communication in it’s purest form. It’s when I meet someone heart-to-heart, soul-to-soul in the wonderful, safe place trust has built, where I feel free to share the deepest parts of myself, knowing I’ll be received with kindness, free from judgement.

In these precious moments, I often discover that not only are my thoughts and experiences understood, but they are shared. To feel understood is one of the most precious gifts I ever receive; maybe my gratitude springs from our shared need to feel we “belong.” Whatever the reason, nothing comforts and inspires me more than knowing I’m not alone. It gives me the courage to move forward every day, no matter what challenge I may be facing. It fuels my intention to be of service to others, no matter how small or grand the gesture. It makes me love.

This life is filled with give and take, ups and downs, challenge and triumph. I have memories of carefree, childhood discoveries, tales of travel and adventures from my “glory days” and those joyous, life-changing events, like the birth of my beloved daughter. I’ve enjoyed the many simple pleasures we’re all blessed with from one year to the next. I also remember days when loss and grief seemed insurmountable, when depression stole my will and spirit and my recent years of illness, when I wondered if I’d ever be my “old self” again. Then came a cancer diagnosis and the frightening thought that I wouldn’t live another year. Luckily for me, that fear was short-lived; my cancer was caught in Stage One and I responded beautifully to my treatment protocol.

When faced with my own extinction, it wasn’t long before my priorities became crystal clear. I had plenty of time to reflect on my life story and to decide how I want to spend the next chapters. Plotting my intentions was quite simple; I said to myself, “I’ve always wanted to ____ ” and filled in the blank, over and over. I realized I wanted to write “in public” and decided a blog was the perfect place to do it. So, you are now part of my new chapter, where I share my stories and listen to yours as my heart overflows with gratitude. So, Thank you…You’re Welcome…It’s wonderful to meet you!

Dedicated to Anna Quindlen
For Living Out Loud and for helping me realize I have something to say.

It’s Comin’ on Christmas…

All the presents are wrapped, waiting to be packed in boxes and sent south to NJ. They’re leaving ahead of me, since I’m traveling by train. I’ve grown to love “The Vermonter.” Just me and a book, snug in my seat, rocking peacefully for a few hours as the towns glide by outside. It feels romantic and nostalgic, too, as if I’ve stepped inside the world of a vintage travel poster.

The end of my ride is Penn Station. Claire will be there to meet me crying, “Mama!” and greeting me with bright eyes and her wonderful smile as we rush towards each other. We’ll take a cab to her place; Bailey the cat will cry with longing when the key jiggles the lock. He’ll see it’s both of his girls and lap up all the love and cooing we bestow upon him. It’ll feel so good to be there.

There. Not here in this apartment of mine, where I’ve spent most of this year, sick, then mending and eventually longing for the day when the scenery around me would change. This year took me on a different kind of journey, filled with new and often frightening territory, although I soon realized I didn’t have time to be scared. I had cancer and I needed to prepare for battle, body, mind and spirit. The cancer journey isn’t for the faint of heart, this I know is true. But there are silver linings, both small and momentous and the word grateful has never crossed my mind as many times as it did this year.

My strength is coming back and my hair is growing in. The fight is finally over. It’s fitting that it’s year’s end, since I’m eager for the next chapter, my re-entry into the world. I’m a wee bit shaky and my emotions still trip me up, but I know I’ll be OK. I just need to remind myself, I’m a survivor.