Tag Archives: Gratitude

My Breast Cancer Journey: The Gift of 2 Days Feeling Like Myself

Posted on March 3, 2025 | Leave a comment

The last 2 days have felt magical. I have felt 100% like myself. I have felt present in my body, comfortable in my emotions, full of energy and love. I have felt like me. That is a big statement as I haven’t felt like me since I was diagnosed with breast cancer had a double mastectomy in May and went on cancer treatment meds in June.

I wrote about some of this before, but to manage the side effects from my breast cancer treatment, the first medical oncologist I saw last June, put me on anastrozole to suppress my hormone production and 75 mg of venlafaxine a day to manage hot flashes and other side effects of the anastrozole.

I should’ve asked more questions. I should’ve been more vigilant. I was a great advocate for myself in terms of not wanting some of the side effects that the anastrozole was likely to create. However, I was not vigilant enough about the remedy that he chose. 75 mg of venlafaxine, an antidepressant, changed my brain chemistry. In the words of my second medical oncologist, I might have thought I was treating hot flashes but my brain thought something else.

With her agreement, I decided to go off my cancer medications a month prior to our honeymoon cruise to the West Indies over Christmas and New Year’s. I wanted to see what it felt like to feel “normal”.

I know it’s dangerous to go off antidepressants cold turkey but I didn’t realize I was on one. What followed was a 12-day ugly-crying spree. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that much in my entire life, over anything. Those of you who know me well know both that I have gone through some pretty cry worthy experiences in my life (haven’t we all), and that I cry easily and with no shame. In the words of Jude Law’s character in Holiday, “I’m a major weeper”. I cry at poignant movies. I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad. You get it. I cry. But this was different. I felt so low emotionally and I cried uncontrollably, almost constantly. It wasn’t until two weeks later that I had an appointment with my medical oncologist and she informed me of my error, that I could not go off venlafaxine cold turkey. So I went back on it. Not what I wanted to do, but I also didn’t want to spend our honeymoon cruise crying.

On January 8, after returning from our cruise, my doctor and I came up with a plan to safely wean me off the venlafaxine. She shifted my dosage from 75 mg a day to 37.5. She wanted me to take this dosage daily for 21 days, then reduce it further to every other day. I completely weaned myself off the medication five days ago. The first couple days I had moments where I felt hyper emotional, but they were short-lived. I felt optimistic. I felt that I could do this.

And yesterday was the gift I had been waiting for. I woke refreshed, ready to start the day, and happy. No distress. This is how I typically wake up, at least I did until last April.

I don’t know what decision my medical oncologist and I will make when I see her this week about resuming my cancer medication. That will be largely determined by my tumor markers and my decisions about quality of life and the risk of cancer recurrence. Initially, my odds were very low. I hope that is still the case. I do know that feeling like myself is a godsend.

I want to be clear, this is not a tale of advocacy. I would never tell anyone what to do on their cancer journey. Everyone’s cancer journey is unique. Everyone’s experience with medication as unique.

This is a cautionary tale, a tale about asking the right questions at the right times and not making assumptions. Today, March 3, I feel normal. It took just shy of two months. I embrace this gift today. Today, I’m not worrying about the future. I’m just reveling in feeling like me.

A beautiful sunny day, a gentle breeze, and being content in the moment

Posted on June 21, 2024 | 4 comments

I sit outside at a table with an umbrella on this cool, lovely, sunny morning. i’m wearing long yoga pants and an Oceanside sweatshirt that my daughter got me. Around my neck is a hummingbird necklace gifted to me by my son as I started this adventure. A breeze gently blows through my hair and caresses my skin. It’s good to be alive.

I’ve always believed that every day was a gift and on this journey, I am more convinced than ever that this is true. It’s also true that some moments are incredibly rough.

With all the accidents and injuries I’ve had in my life I thought I had a pretty good pain tolerance. That said, I was not ready for the pain involved in a breast cancer diagnosis, a double mastectomy, starting reconstruction, and just managing healing. There’s pain on so many levels, physical, emotional, spiritual (so many different types of physical pain). My identity feels squishy and somewhat nebulous, but I recognize that’s due to the moment I’m navigating. I am who I am. That will not change. I am strong. I am optimistic. I am independent. I am a warrior. To paraphrase the immortal words of Commander Taggart in Galaxy Quest, “(I) never give up and (I) never surrender.”

Some things happened this week that were frustrating and disappointing. My plastic surgeon decided that my expanders were still sitting too high in my chest, so he didn’t want to do my last full expansion this week. He only did half. And rather than planning for my reconstruction for two months from now, he wants to wait. Apparently if my expanders relax on their own, it’s a much simpler surgery. If they don’t, he has to deal with readjusting scar tissue, and the outcome, I guess, will be less positive. So I’m digging down and finding my patience to wait, to realize that I am just at the beginning stages of this whole process.

I have the most incredible support system. I am so blessed with family and friends who love me, who reach out to me, who provide expertise and information, who provide shoulders when I’m sad or overwhelmed. On this journey, whenever I have needed something the person who had the ability to provide, it has appeared. Breezy, one of my new daughters (by marriage) gifted me with a wonderful cushion vest that I can wear in the car to protect my chest from the seatbelt. Fortunately, for me now, she works at a bra spa and is helping me navigate the kind of support I need now that I don’t have to just use ace wraps any more. That whole concept has been overwhelming to me and having someone in my corner who is an expert is such a gift.

I’m just sitting here, pondering the idea that we can be underwhelmed and overwhelmed, but we can’t just be whelmed. I think I’d like to be whelmed for a while.

So on this beautiful Friday morning, I sit out by this lovely pool surrounded by palm trees and flowers, and I breathe, content in the knowledge that I am, content in the knowledge that I will be, content in the knowledge that I have all the resources I need to get through this. Thanks for listening!

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Posted in Breast Cancer, Double Mastectomy, Health and Healing, Healthy Relationships, Support system

Tagged Breast Cancer, Cancer, Double Mastectomy, Gratitude, my cancer journey, On health and healing

On the Importance of Gratitude and Living in the Present on this Cancer Journey

Posted on May 29, 2024 | Leave a comment

For the last few days, I have focused on living in the moment and gratitude. My wonderful husband helps with that so much.

Several days ago he took me ring shopping because we used a placeholder ring for me when we got married. He found a gorgeous, ruby and diamond ring as well as several other lovely rings. He showed me pictures of them and told me when I was feeling up to it, we could go look at them. When I felt well enough to troll the mall in a wheelchair, he took me to see them and try them on. I fell in love with a ruby and diamond ring, as he knew I would.

That day, I was feeling pretty pessimistic. A gorgeous ring like that seemed to be a portent for the future, and I wasn’t confident in what the future held. I asked him to roll me to a sitting area where we could talk face-to-face and I could tell him my fears. My fears of not living, my fears of debilitation, my fears of treatment, my fears of not being , my fears of losing myself. At that moment, I seemed to have lost my optimistic self. I was embracing a scarcity model and pessimism, two things that do not typically characterize me. Andrew‘s response was “My love, this ring is a symbol of how much I love you, how happy I am that you are my wife, and how happy I am that we are sharing our lives together”. The interesting thing is that as soon as I said the words and heard Andrew‘s reply, the weight of those fears lifted.

Yes! There was no reason for me to be this pessimistic, this fearful. Everything so far had gone my way. Yes I had had a double mastectomy, but they got all the cancer with clean margins, and there was no indication of cancer in my lymph nodes. You can’t really get much better than that following a breast cancer diagnosis. I had decided on breast reconstruction surgery, so that was going to happen as well. I needed to focus on how fortunate I was and try to be as positive as I could.

That does not mean that I’m positive all the time. I’m not. I have cried more in the last month and a half, since the diagnosis, than I’ve cried in my entire life. And as my children will tell you, I’m a crier. When they were little and we saw sad or poignant commercials, TV shows, or movies, they always looked at me to see if I was crying yet. Often I was – or at least I had tears in my eyes.

I think it’s critically important to allow myself to sit in the fear and the sadness that are part of this cancer journey. Normally, I approach those emotions as Chevy Chase did at the Grand Canyon in National Lampoon’s Vacation. I bob my head three times and I’m done. This time, with this journey, it’s not so simple.

That said, gratitude, and focusing on the present really help, at least sometimes.

The other day my sweetie took me to make candles. I love candles and it was a warm, sweet, fun moment and I was fully present.

This morning we went to see the medical oncologist for the first time. I was extremely apprehensive about that visit. I teared up a couple times this morning in anticipation. None of the treatments to prevent cancer from coming back are very much fun and I was afraid. My oncotype analysis is not back yet, so this was really just a preliminary meeting. After meeting with him and with my plastic surgeon, Andrew was pushing me back to the car in the wheelchair when I decided I wanted to grab salads and just sit outside and enjoy the beautiful day. So, that’s what we did. We also did one of our favorite things and played games on Andrew’s phone.

These three examples of being in the present moment have really helped ground me. I know I won’t always be there. I know there is still a lot of fear, uncertainty, and angst ahead of me. I also know how very much I have to be grateful for.

On Serendipity, Connection, and Finding a Sister on the Other Side of the World

Posted on March 3, 2024 | 4 comments

“People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” – Brian A. “Drew” Chalker. Victorine Mbong Shu came into my life for a reason, has stayed for a season, and remains a strong part of my life.

Our relationship was serendipitous from the start. Victorine sent me a friend request on Facebook. Seems simple enough, but the impacts for both of us have been profound. As I often do when someone I don’t know sends me a friend request, I checked Victorine’s friends list. Our common friends were well respected colleagues. I accepted her invitation.

Soon after we became “friends”, Victorine posted a call for stories for a book on Motherhood Honesty. I had a story I had been burning to tell for decades. I messaged to ask if it would be appropriate for me to submit a story. She said “yes” and within 24 hours I sent her my story. I literally sat down and wrote it in one sitting. I’m a writer. Usually I don’t write quite that quickly.

Victorine accepted my story for her book and asked if I would be willing to read another mother’s submission. I agreed, edited it, and sent it back immediately. This was followed by a second story and a third. V asked if I would be interested in co-editing the anthology. I jumped at the chance. Covid lockdown had me looking for a meaningful project. This opportunity was just what I needed, a chance to help mothers’ claim their voices while trying to keep those I loved safe during the pandemic.

Over 10 long, exciting, arduous months, our book grew until we shared it with the world on International Women’s Day (March 8, 2022) in Johannesburg, South Africa. The symmetry of our book of motherhood stories taking roughly the same amount of time to complete as the gestation of a human baby and the date of the launch on the international day celebrating women filled me with joy!

Victorine invited me to help plan the launch. Of course she invited me to attend, but COVID! She upped the stakes, inviting me to MC the event. I was coaching 3 mother/authors who would be presenting their stories at the event. I had to be there! After much back and forth, and encouragement from my partner, Andrew, who reminded me that I’ve lived my life embracing unexpected opportunities and traveling the world, I overcame my fears, bought my ticket, and flew!

The launch and my experiences in South Africa were delight filled re-entries into the world of travel and cultural exploration. Victorine asked if I would like to stay at her home. I gladly accepted. I was excited to see how she lived. I was out shopping for gifts to take to her and her family when Victorine messaged me asking if I would mind sleeping on a straw mat on the floor with her as that was the only space available. I had just found a gorgeous crystal vase that I planned to bring to her. Her question made me rethink as I wondered what her home life was really like. I didn’t want to give her something that would be out of place, inappropriate, or not useful. I opted instead for a lovely crystal Swarovski pen. I got one for each of us to commemorate our collaboration. This was my introduction to Victorine’s wicked sense of humor. She and her family actually live in a lovely large compound, and the vase would have fit beautifully there.

Her family welcomed me with open arms and I am now auntie to her four children. We all cooked, laughed, and played together. They introduced me to local delicacies; I introduced them to cheesy garlic bread. It was invigorating to explore the world again.

The following October, it was my turn. I invited Victorine to come to the U.S. to present our work at the Organization for the Study of Communication, Language, and Gender conference in Minneapolis Minnesota. This was V’s first trip to the U.S. and her first academic conference. As I knew she would, she fully embraced this experience, making connections with new colleagues, and memorably sharing our and her own research.

After a month exploring the U.S., Victorine returned to South Africa and she and I started working on our next book, soliciting stories about Fatherhood Honesty. We anticipate publication of that book in either June or September 2024, one of the two Father’s Day events celebrated around the world. This book will be followed by anthologies on Sibling Honesty and Grandparent Honesty.

I’ve supported Victorine in her quest to earn her doctorate. She’s supported me as I’ve worked to develop my coaching business. She attended my virtual workshop “Claim Your Power! Transform Your Life! 3 Steps to Identify Your Strengths to Step into Your Dream Future” for women facing life transitions in November, 2023. Following the workshop, she thanked me for helping her “find the me I hadn’t realized I had lost.” After the workshop, she asked me if I would be willing to do something similar for teens. She felt that the stress of Covid, schooling from home, and related logistics, as well as the typical stresses teens experience were taking a toll. Other mothers in the Motherhood Honesty Facebook group were expressing similar concerns. In February, I facilitated a 90 minute virtual workshop titled, “Step into Your Strengths! Claim your Power! Manage Stress and Anxiety!” to 19 teens in South Africa, including 3 of Victorine’s children – all because Victorine asked me to.

I have no idea where the future will take us, but over the last three years, when I have needed a nudge, support, encouragement, or an awesome opportunity, Victorine has been there to supply them.

Her original reason to reach out was my reputation in the communication discipline. To my delight, she gave me the opportunity to write for her (our) book. Those moments started a season of support and encouragement that helps each of us, encourages us to be our best and continues to benefit both of us as our friendship grows and deepens. I am so fortunate to have this woman in my life.

I cannot express my gratitude enough. Thank you, sis! Thank you for sending me a friend request. Thank you for the Motherhood, Honesty book, and for inviting me to both author a story and co-edit the book. Thank you for encouraging me to offer workshops. Thank you for helping me explore South Africa. Thank you for your friendship! I can’t wait to see what we do together in the future. Onward!

4 Comments

Posted in Family Stories, Healthy Relationships, Motherhood Honesty, New Adventures, On writing

Tagged Gratitude, Reflections, serendipity, Victorine Mbong Shu, Writing about Fatherhood Honesty, Writing about Motherhood Honesty

On Fear, Hope, a Bracelet, and Gratitude

Posted on October 20, 2022 | 1 comment

Sometimes those who love us see more clearly what we need than we do. Today I write about one of those times. Today I write about fear, hope, and a bracelet that signified both. Today I write about gratitude. This month is the 10-year anniversary of the freak dancing accident that resulted in breaking both of my wrists, triple fracturing my right and double fracturing my left. That accident was in many ways both a blessing and a curse. I learned so much about myself and those I love. I learned that people would be there for me if I needed them. I learned I was safe to be helpless. I learned how to deal with the most excruciating pain I could imagine. I learned to slow down, to be kind to myself, to accept care, to ask for help. I didn’t learn these lessons easily, but I learned them.

Throughout the holiday season, I was working my way through splints, then casts, then braces with increasing levels of physical therapy. For homework, I was playing in a bowl of rice multiple times a day to reduce skin sensitivity and promote flexibility. I was opening and closing wooden clothespins, learning to touch my fingertips to my thumbs, and trying to relearn how to do simple tasks for myself, like feeding myself, brushing my teeth, dressing myself.

One day, my friend Miche Dreiling brought me a present. It was a small, square box. Inside was a delicate, red bracelet. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. A bracelet! A bracelet? My skin was so sensitive I couldn’t imagine ever being able to wear a bracelet again. Even though this one was so delicate and small, it looked like a torture device to me. I know I looked at Miche confused. “Not for now”, she said. “For later… when you’re healed”. I closed the lid on the box and put the bracelet in a drawer in my hutch. I wondered if I would ever take it out. It became a symbol of fear and hope.

The day I decided I was ready to try to wear it finally came. I was apprehensive as my skin was still so sensitive, but it was time. Andrew helped me put it on. And though I could only wear it for a short time that day, I knew that sometime soon, I would be able to wear it for much longer periods. I knew that I would someday be able to wear all my treasured bracelets and rings whenever and for as long as I wished. That day wasn’t here yet, but it was coming. Today as I reflect 10 years later, I am wearing an iWatch, a wrap bracelet, and 5 rings on my hands. The moment I opened Miche’s gift, I doubted that this day would ever come. Now I don’t think about jewelry anymore. I wear it easily and without pain.

In all honesty, what at first felt like the most insensitive gift I could imagine became a talisman of hope as I embraced my healing and the belief that I would regain full function and capacity. I am grateful that Miche brought me this talisman of hope. I doubted the wisdom of this gift. In retrospect, it was just the gift I needed. I cherish that bracelet as a reminder that in fear, there can also be hope.

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Posted in Family Stories, Fear & Hope, Recovery from injury, Uncategorized

Tagged compassion, Gratitude, Reflections, Wisdom

The Florence Journals: On Leave Taking and Gratitude

Posted on November 26, 2014 | Leave a comment

This morning I sit at my window as a gentle mist wets the street below. The soprano in a nearby apartment is running her scales as the construction workers across the way toil to renovate the gutted 6 story building which I am told will house tourist apartments. This morning I’ve been sorting and organizing, preparing to pack. On one hand, it’s hard to believe that my 3 month sojourn is coming to an end, on the other, I miss my children and my friends. It will be nice to come home.

Sorting and organizing has led to reflection and recognition of so many things for which I am grateful. I am grateful to have a job that acknowledges and values the need to take some time to reflect, to plan, to learn, to write, tasks we often do in a rushed fashion as we negotiate the day to day, year to year realities of serving as university professors. I am grateful for the small gifts I brought with me, reminders of my friends back home, the lovely necklace and earrings my new friend Julie gifted me for my birthday the Sunday before I left, the cashmere scarf my friend Craig gifted me years ago from his trip to Peru that travels with me everywhere I go just in case, the gorgeous journals and fountain pen my friend Andrew gave me along with the mandala to help with meditation and reflection.

I am grateful for those carrying on the important “things” I left behind so that I could let them go. To Michelle and Brenda for carrying the hunger awareness torch and taking our hunger initiative to a whole new level. To Matt for his vision and constant support. I’m grateful to Stefan for taking care of my turtle, to Apple for inventing FaceTime which has allowed me to hang with Alyssa and Andrew. I’m grateful to T-Mobile for giving me a mostly reasonable phone plan so that I can hear Stefan’s voice when I’m missing him or just need to check in.

I am grateful to the family who rented me my dream apartment. It is more than what I hoped it would be. The brick floor and stone wall, the arched windows, the proximity to the Ponte Vecchio and the Uffizi Gallery are exactly what I wanted. The hike up the steep cobble-stone street, an added bonus that my lungs and thighs have greatly appreciated. This apartment is not perfect. If I sit on the bed wrong, it collapses. There are few lights, so the apartment is very dim at night. The air conditioners leak water on the floor. The construction workers across the street are incredibly loud from roughly 7:45 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Monday through Friday. The intruder alarm on the construction site goes off when it rains at night. The shrill voiced foreman yells constantly and there is much more drilling and pounding on metal than one might expect. Even with all this, I love this place.

I love that someone nearby plays classical piano every so often. I love the sound of the soprano running scales and singing arias. I love that a merchant tunes her radio to play 70s, 80s, and 90s pop music seemingly on cue whenever I feel a bit homesick. I love that in the window across the way, a blue globe graces a table.

I love that in 3 months, local shopkeepers recognize me and wave and smile as I walk by, the man at the pizza shop, the man at the wine shop, everyone who works in the coffee shop, the staff at the cafes I frequent. They have all made me feel very welcome.

I love the simplicity of my life here. I love cooking from scratch with fresh ingredients purchased that day or the day before from merchants at street kiosks or the Mercato Centrale. I love that if I don’t feel like walking, I can shop at the Conad grocery store just down the hill from my apartment. I love that I have the time to troll the streets, to write, to draw, to read, to be.

I love that I have walked this city for 3 months and not put a dent in all there is to see here. I have not yet taken pictures of the icons that adorn alcoves in many buildings. I have not begun to find all the shops, churches, museums, and gardens, or explored all the windows, doors, and gates that grace this city. I love the color in the kiosks in Il Porcellino square and outside the Mercato Centrale where shopkeepers sell souvenirs, leather goods, and gorgeous scarves. I love the aroma of the chestnut roaster. I love the beautiful marzipan fruit and pastries that beckon from the windows of patisseries. I love the beautiful fresh flowers available throughout the city at daily street markets. I love the smell of coffee roasting. I love the carousel in the Piazza della Repubblica, the piazzas in front of the Duomo and Santa Croce and the Romanian gypsy string quartet that plays there sometimes. I love that when entering a piazza I might find a street festival going on. I love strolling the Ponte Vecchio in the evenings, listening to street musicians and observing the masterpieces of the chalk artists that will be washed away by midnight, only to be replaced by new works of art, generally copies of the masters, the next day.

I love cappuccino, fresh pasta, panna cotta, and the creamy sweetness of gelato. I love the bridges over the Arno River and how each has its own personality, its own unique vantage point on the city. I love the Piazza Michelangelo, the hike to which is one of the most grueling and rewarding walks I’ve taken, because the vistas at the top are breathtaking as the beauty of the city of Florence lies at your feet. I love the lushness of Boboli Gardens in the center of the city.

I love Emma and Iris who have welcomed this vagabond traveler, I am grateful to Marco, Jennifer, Katerina, Alex, Luca, and Marzia who have offered me a second home here and treated me like family.

There is so much that I am thankful for. I am thankful for you, dear readers who have read my blog posts, commented on or liked them, or my pictures and posts on Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. You have made me feel connected to community even when I am 5272.5 miles from home. I will end this homage to gratitude now as a cappuccino at Iris’s coffee shop with Emma awaits. This has been such an amazing adventure. A presto!