Do You See Miracles?

"There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle." Albert Einstein

I read this quote on another website about a cancer patient, and it really hit home. I have always been someone who lives as if everything is miraculous, and this has been greatly magnified by having cancer.

Is life really worth living if you never take delight in what you see around you, who you have around you, and what gifts you have been given? To me, that's not living; it's just existing, and there is a huge difference.

I know that the fact that I'm alive is a miracle: when I was born 2 1/2 months premature, weighing 2 lbs. 7 oz., all that could be done was to baptize me and put me in an incubator. The amazing technology we now have to assist very tiny babies didn't even exist.

For a while, the doctors thought that I was born blind, that I would probably have severe problems ever walking or moving normally, and there was a good chance that my brain would be damaged by the inexact oxygen levels of my contained environment. My chance of survival was slim. All that I had going for me was my will to live, and the tender care of the nursing Sisters of Providence, who were completely devoted to me. I was released from the hospital 3 months later, weighing a whopping 5 pounds, still resembling a doll more than an actual baby. The doctor who delivered me used to call me "the little atom", because I was so small at birth.

I beat the odds, and survived, with no adverse affects. So, perhaps why someone like me sees life as miraculous - for me, it really is.

It's easy to get jaded and cynical about life, but it doesn't have to be that way; and, you don't have to experience life-threatening illness to make you appreciate being alive. There are miracles for you to find each and every day. It all depends on your outlook, as Einstein wisely observed.

So, I ask, "Do You See Miracles?" I hope so...

Back on my feet again - with caution!

I went to the orthopedist today, and I have been medically cleared to put weight on my foot and walk around again. I have to wear the Aircast brace for a couple of weeks or so, but this means that I can now leave the house, drive my car, and...go back to work!

My ankle is healing exceptionally well, even though my ankle and foot still look disgusting; an overall yellow, with a purple undertone, and bruises which will take some time to go away, I'm sure. I will be doing exercises at home to increase the mobility and strength of my ankle, and I'm getting used to walking around with the Aircast.

I'm sure that a lot of my progress is directly due to the terrific care and advice I received from my husband while I was unable to walk. As a former runner who has even done a marathon, he is a veteran of many ankle injuries, and his experience was invaluable to me during this time. We're planning to go out walking again this coming weekend; this is permitted, as long as I'm wearing the Aircast brace. It might not be a 4-mile walk, but I will be out there on the trail again! (Watching out for lurking holes in the grass...)

Just being out of commission for a couple of weeks made me feel truly sorry for anyone who is permanently confined to bed, or housebound. My Irish Nana who raised me used to say, "Every day that you wake up and you put two feet on the floor is a good day", so now I have a greater realization of just what she meant by that.

So, even though I didn't break anything in 1995 when I was run over by a van in Manhattan, but managed to break something just walking near my home, I feel very happy about the way this entire experience worked out. I will be wearing my Aircast, working out with weights soon, and getting back to my usual activities.

I would have been totally lost without my iPod Touch, its fantastic apps, and its wireless Internet, as I couldn't get to the Mac during my non-weightbearing stint. It was a lifesaver!

A Minor Setback

One week ago, I was out for my usual 4-mile walk with my husband, on the nature trail near my home. We were only a few blocks from home, and had just exited the trail, walking at the side of the road on some grass, when I suddenly stepped into a hole several inches deep, slammed into the ground on my forearms and hands, and injured my ankle. The hole was completely covered over by the grass surrounding it, so I didn't see it as I looked ahead.

As I struggled to stand up, I was acutely aware that I had done something terrible to my right ankle. Placing weight on my foot was difficult, coupled with a sharp, scream-inducing pain, which traveled up the outside of my ankle and calf if I moved my leg in the wrong direction. I insisted on "toughing it out" and carefully walking home, with my husband helping me. It was obvious that I needed to be taken to the hospital, as my ankle was swelling up considerably.

At the ER, I was placed in a wheelchair, and wheeled in to be evaluated. I noticed that the NP was wearing a breast cancer pink ribbon pin. When I commented on this, she said that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer at age 36, and had undergone a double mastectomy, and chemo, which "kicked her ass". I told her that I was also a breast cancer patient, and that I was glad that her ass had been kicked, because that meant that she was still here! As I have written before, you really do bond with other cancer patients, which is one "gift" of having had this experience.

I was placed on a gurney, and after a while, was wheeled into the radiology area for several foot/ankle x-rays. At this moment, it occurred to me that this was the first time since being diagnosed that I was NOT here at my "usual" hospital for anything related to my cancer treatment; and it was a positive realization. Today, I was just "the woman with an ankle injury"; how different for someone who had spent many days there seeing doctors, undergoing surgeries, scans and tests, having my radiation treatments, etc.

I was sent home wearing an Aircast, but told to see an orthopedist ASAP, preferably the following day. I managed to get an appointment with a MD at my husband's ortho MD group, and they confirmed that I had a hairline fracture (described as a "good" fracture) where the sprained ligament attaches to the ankle bone. I left the orthopedist's office wearing a knee-length, black "boot" that looks as if it was designed for Darth Vader.

Mine is black, not navy blue (the above photo was the best one I could find on the web), and the ortho nurse told me "Black goes with everything" - hmmm - what would anyone wear with the likes of this futuristic, velcro-laden footwear? The boot makes the ankle feel a lot more protected and better isolates the joint; although, it also evokes images of Frankenstein lumbering around as well...!

I have been home now for a week (one more week to go!), forbidden to walk anywhere except for short trips to the bathroom or other areas on the same level. The pain has gone from a "9" to about a "2", but if I move in the "wrong" direction, or something presses on the outside of my ankle - yeoucchh! My foot is bruised on both sides of my ankle; I have purple bruises at the bottom of my toes (!), and the top surface of my foot is now turning a lovely yellow color, which complements the purple.

I'm seeing the orthopedist one week from today, and hopefully, then I can go back to the Aircast, which means that I can drive a car, and thus, return to work.

My wonderful husband has been taking very good care of me: driving me to the ER and to the orthopedist, preparing and bringing me my meals, getting my pillows, refilling my drinking bottle, helping me get around, and making me laugh, which really is very good medicine. He has been amazing, just as he was when I was recovering from my surgeries.

I'm determined not to gain more weight just because I can't exercise right now, and, as soon as it's medically possible, I'll be back "out there" on the trail, walking my post-cancer pounds away. This is just a setback, and I have already laughed about it! Why, it's as easy as "stepping in a hole"! So now, I know exactly how that expression came to be.

Healthy Habits Preventing Breast Cancer?

Last Tuesday, a study was published stating that almost 40% of breast cancer cases could be prevented by good health habits. When I was diagnosed, I weighed roughly the same as I had 30 years ago, had been lifting weights since 1980, and had been avoiding alcohol, as I knew that drinking alcohol increased my risk. I also ate healthy foods, limited my red meat intake, drank water instead of soda, and ate a low-fat diet: for example, my daily lunch consisted of carrots, yogurt, and fruit.

Studies like this can mislead women into a false sense of wellbeing- as most breast cancer cases clearly can't be prevented by the behaviors they describe. I hoped that avoiding alcohol would lower my risk, but I never believed that doing this would prevent me from getting breast cancer: all you can do is practice a healthy lifestyle, and hope for the best.

 

The majority, or 60% of breast cancer cases, are not influenced by someone's health habits, but it is still a good idea to practice healthy behaviors. I was thin when I was diagnosed, and gained weight during treatment; so, I'm happy that I didn't weigh 20 or 30 pounds more at the time of my diagnosis, or, I would be faced with losing even more now as I attempt to reach my precancer body weight.

Preventing breast cancer, unfortunately, isn't as simple as the study makes it seem. I would hate for other women to think that a healthy lifestyle will spare you: mine certainly did not spare me. Be healthy, yes; but most importantly, get screened on a regular basis; this is the health practice which could, and will, actually save your life.

What Cancer Cannot Take From You

When you learn that you have cancer, you'll view your life up to that point as "B.C.": "before cancer", and "A.D.": "after diagnosis". Cancer will be your focus for at least the next few months, mentally and physically. It will take over your life during your active treatment, and you will most likely lose part of your body to it. Cancer has co-opted your present, and your future. Your sense of invulnerability has been stolen from you. You have the right to be angry, but you have to work through this, and ultimately realize what cancer cannot take from you.

Long after your active treatment, cancer will steal things from you on a smaller scale: I take my anti-cancer medicine each day as part of a planned five-year course, knowing that it will greatly increase my chances of long-term survival. The associated side effects of the medicine are a daily reminder that I'm still fighting not just the cancer, but weight gain, greatly increased vasomotor episodes, gastrointestinal issues, and lingering fatigue. I have felt at times as if I'm seeing another "me" in the mirror, and it's difficult to remember the tiny, energetic person whom I no longer see there. Sometimes two years in the past ("B.C.") seems like a lifetime ago. 

When I wrote earlier about the cruelty of Alzheimer's Disease, robbing the patient of his/her identity, gradually taking them from their loved ones right before their eyes, with the only relief being certain death, I said that Alzheimer's is a far crueler fate than cancer; and I still believe it.

I know this beyond any doubt: I am still "me", and cancer is not going to change my personality, or make me focus on what I have lost, instead of what I have gained from this experience. My sense of humor is still intact. I still find joy in each day; I feel very fortunate to be alive, and well. I still have my smile, and I will never lose it! How would I ever have known how strong I could be, and how much I could endure? So, yes, it has taken something from me, but I have found a way to appreciate what it has given to me, also.

We are all tested in one way or another; you will be amazed at what you can overcome, and how powerful your will to live really is. Cancer can take your essence away from you, but only if you allow it. I'm not going to let that happen.  

Get Your Mammogram!! Take control of your life!!

I just got my regular screening mammogram yesterday, and although it's not entirely without pain for me (especially after my surgeries!), I can't ever imagine postponing it, or thinking that I'll forgo it "this time". And neither should you...

 

My mammogram in 2007 SAVED MY LIFE, and caught my invasive breast cancer long before it could even have been felt by a physical exam. My cancer hadn't spread to my lymph nodes, but if I had waited another 6 months or a year to be screened, this might not have been the case, and my chances for survival would not be as favorable. Because my cancer was found early, I didn't need chemotherapy, just radiation; another positive aspect of regular screening.

And, my cancer was found on a non-digital mammogram, for those of you who have doubts about the effectiveness of mammography...it didn't show up on an ultrasound or on a MRI at all!

I have worked in healthcare since 1980, and I have seen the tragic results of women's fear of cancer preventing them from being screened. It's not necessarily a question of being without medical coverage, as many people suppose is the case. Sadly, even when mammograms are offered at no cost, many women choose the "avoidance" approach, because they're so afraid to find out their breast health status. Even more tragic, when the same women later present with symptoms, it's much more serious, and may be too late: their cancer has now advanced to their lymphatic system, and possibly to other organs, such as their lungs, bones, and brain.

Please, do this for you, for your loved ones, your friends - take action, and get a mammogram! Don't wait until you find a lump or see something that doesn't look right. Face your fears, and get screened. I know it's scary; I'm a cancer patient, and I still think of the possibility of a new cancer being found. But, I'd rather find it earlier than later - wouldn't you?

Two Years Later

Today, it has been two years since I was diagnosed with cancer.

Some days, July 10, 2007 seems long ago; but, even now, I can acutely remember exactly how I felt at the moment I found out that my life would be changed forever.

What are my thoughts on this 2-year anniversary of being a person with cancer?

First, I'm truly thankful for being alive, and for the caring and expertise of my physicians, techs, nurses, and medical assistants. I literally wouldn't be here on this earth without you, and I am forever grateful.

I now know that I'm an extremely strong person, mentally, emotionally, and physically; far more than I ever would have realized prior to my illness. I wouldn't wish what I have gone through on anyone; but I am heartened by the fact that I was able to face it, and persevere. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger; or to put it another way, you will discover your real level of inner strength when you can endure things that you never imagined you could.

Things which formerly would have seemed like a problem now are very insignificant; and things which would have terrified me no longer seem frightening. Cancer has a way of resetting your perspective on the world. As I have written elsewhere, you realize that life is truly about "the little things".

The unfairness of Fate is not easy to accept sometimes. Before this experience, I had never been seriously ill. While I know I'm lucky to have been healthy for so long, it was a major blow to my psyche to have this happen. You feel betrayed by your body somehow. I exercised religiously, never smoked, had good health habits, and boom! - this happened.

My greatest joy in life is the unfailing love and support of my best friend, who is also my husband. He cared for me when I was ill, and he is my hero and protector. When I look my worst, he still tells me that I'm beautiful. There is no greater love that I could ever hope to have. All that I want is to grow old with him, and I believe that I will get my wish.

There are now many other people in my life who have opened their hearts to me. Everywhere I go, I am constantly reminded of the love that I have been given, which is an amazing thing; this is one of the "pluses" of my situation.

I don't fear death, and I can't imagine wanting to live forever; that seems like a terrible fate to me. The important thing is to see beauty in each day, and to live in the present.

I don't worry about my cancer returning; I'm concentrating on what's happening right now, and on my healthy future. Two years later, I am in a very good place.

I have vowed to take something negative and turn it into something positive.

I know that even if I become ill again, cancer may take my life, but it will never claim my smile; because then it will have truly won, and I won't ever allow that to happen.