Tag Archives: Hope

Insights on communication and collaboration in my breast cancer journey: Part 1

A diagnosis of breast cancer is scary! I wrote the message below over a week ago, but thought the points of collaboration, responsive healthcare, openness about my concerns, in short, claiming my voice were important and might help others. So I decided to share it now.

Providence St Jude rock garden

Today has been an interesting day. When we took a shower this morning my waterproofing around my right drain lifted and the padding underneath got wet, necessitating a call to my plastic surgeon. He thought Andrew and I could safely change it. Before we got the chance, my left drain inflated indicating an air leak. With 2 issues I felt we needed the doctor.

He met us at his office on a Saturday afternoon. He removed the packing and waterproofing on my right side, cleaned the area, then moved to the left side.

It took a while, but Andrew figured out that the effort to seal the slice in the tube leading to my drain (it was accidentally clipped as they were changing my dressings 2 days earlier) wasn’t working. The 3 of us then collaborated on a strategy to find and seal any leaks that included replacing the bulb and the stem on that side. This still didn’t do it, so Andrew posited that we needed to close the slice in the tube and tape it closed. I appreciated how collaborative my surgeon was in sorting everything out. In my experience, many physicians aren’t collaborative or creative problem solvers. Dr Lin is a wonderful exception. Once the leak was patched, Dr Lin instructed Andrew on how to manage both issues should they arise again and loaded us up with supplies just in case. Our goal was to keep the left drain working for another 1-2 weeks until it could safely be removed. The only alternative was to do a second surgery and replace the drain, an option we all hoped to avoid.

Then Dr Lin injected 120ccs of saline solution into each expander, bringing my total to 180ccs. The ultimate goal is 550-600ccs. (Since then I’ve reached 460 ccs.) Dr Lin thought this would both get us back on track and help reduce my fluid output. Our bodies create fluid to fill spaces and with more space taken up by the expanders, my body doesn’t have as much space to fill. This will hopefully facilitate drain removal.

I also talked with Dr Lin about his PA whom I really like, but who has also made a couple concerning mistakes, including clipping my drain tube. He set my mind at ease, and affirmed my perceptions. I then asked that he encourage trainees/interns to introduce themselves to patients when they enter rooms as a gesture of acknowledgement and respect. He thanked me for my feedback.

Here’s the interesting thing. I feel more grounded, more peaceful, and more myself today than I have to this point. I also feel more optimistic. It’s an awesome feeling.

I have an amazing medical team, an amazing support team, and I have this cancer situation. I know I will likely float in and out of this feeling of assurance and confidence, but I’m grateful for this feeling today.

A cancer diagnosis is an emotional roller coaster, as is treatment and follow up. But like any healthcare situation, openness, responsive, collaborative healthcare providers, asking questions, and claiming your voice are critically important to the success of treatment. I have more decisions coming up, so will have more to say on this topic. In the meantime, wishing you health and happiness.

On excitement, anxiety, and moving to Las Vegas

Why do I sometimes find change to be difficult? I’m always excited about new adventures, but there also seems to be some level of anxiety as well.

Today my sweetie and I leave our beautiful apartment in Broomfield Colorado and move to my condo in Las Vegas. I could not be more excited.

I bought the condo a little over a year ago with the intent of retiring there some day. My daughter has been living in the condo but decided to move out and as Andrew is able to work remotely we decided, “What the heck? Let’s move now.” And within two weeks, we are had a plan. I love the condo. I’m very excited to live there, to make it my own in a way that you really can’t with an apartment. Las Vegas is such an easy place to live. Added bonus, I will finally, after five years, again be living in a city with one of my children. My children are very important to me and I am absolutely delighted that I will be so close to my daughter after so many years.

That said, there’s still a level of apprehension about this move today. It still feels bittersweet. I find myself choking up a little bit, being a little bit weepy, but my children would tell you I’m that way anyway. That’s true; I feel things deeply. I’m not really sure what I’m feeling deeply right now though.

I have loved Colorado. It is stunningly beautiful. I have found favorite places here that I will miss, Pearl Street Mall in Boulder, Estes Park and my favorite coffee shop, hiking around Stearns Lake in the Carolyn Holmberg Preserve, the Denver Botanic Gardens, the Butterfly Pavillion, being close enough to visit Andrew‘s parents in Loveland for Sunday brunch.

I will miss the beauty of the mountains and and the lovely flowers here. I will miss this place.

Living in Colorado has been an adventure. It was here that we navigated the Covid pandemic, including lockdown and almost two years of masking and social distancing.

It was here that I learned to love people again (while still masked and social distanced) by taking a job at Savanah Bee Company in Boulder so I could learn about mead, honey, bees, and reintroduce myself to my love of people. It worked! I had a blast!

It was in here that I met Victorine Mbong Shu virtually and then traveled to South Africa for the launch of our co-edited anthology Writing about Motherhood Honesty. Our collaboration has continued to Victorine’s participation in OSCLG in October and our work on the upcoming sequel Writing about Fatherhood Honesty.

It was in here that, on an impulse, I took a holiday job at Harry & David in Flatiron Crossing Mall because I loved their products and thought it would be fun. At H&D, I met Emma Jugganaikloo, and started my journey collaborating with The American Campus (TAC) in Mauritius. Through this opportunity, I learned how to teach remotely synchronously and asynchronously. I had the pleasure of going to Mauritius to teach in-person for six weeks. I served as Provost and Academic Vice President to help them get the school off the ground. I was the commencement speaker for our first graduating class (bucket list). It was a wonderful adventure!

It was here that I learned for sure that my relationship with Andrew could weather anything. With him is exactly where I want to be. We were together, literally in the same space, negotiating life day-to-day, during Covid and loving each other all the more.

So many wonderful, serendipitous things have happened while we’ve lived in Colorado.

But I’m also ready to move on to my next adventure. I think the anxiety comes from the unknowing. Is this a good decision? Is this the best decision? Will we be happy in Nevada? These are all silly, futuristic questions that have no answer in the now. And when I look back over the list of things that came into my life during the five years I lived in Colorado, none of them were anticipated. So, I step into the anxiety. I step into the 24 foot U-Haul that I will take the first shift driving across country, and I move forward into the next stage of my adventure open and curious about what the future will hold.

Forgiveness and Anticipatory Hope

“Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different.” – Oprah Winfrey https://chopracentermeditation.com/ *

I don’t hold grudges. I don’t harbor resentments. For much of my life I simply forgave and forgot any transgressions against me – to the point that one night, over dinner, my best friend and my ex-husband recounted all the negative things that had happened to me since they’d known me. When they recounted the events, I knew they had happened, of course. I just didn’t value them enough to remember them. I might not even have been able to recount them without their prompting.

What I do hold onto is what I call anticipatory hope. Anticipatory hope is my belief that the bad, the negative, the hurtful, the lack in my past could have been different, if people had made different choices. Because I believe these alternative choices were possible then, I believe they remain possible in the present and in the future.  

In a recent conversation with my daughter about an upcoming event we were both dreading, she was lamenting all the negative things she expected. I was trying to lift her spirits talking about how this time things might be different. Alyssa paused, looked me full in the eyes and said, “That’s your problem, Mom. You always look on the bright side. You always believe people can be better, that they will be better. When they don’t, when they act like they always act, you feel let down and hurt. That’s the downside to you always having this anticipatory hope thing. It’s exhausting. You’re not realistic.”

Alyssa in her blunt, no-nonsense way had really hit on something. I’ve always viewed my anticipatory hope as a strength. It helps me be optimistic, remain positive in difficult moments, see possibilities.

Because I believe that anything is possible, that anyone is capable of making a different choice at any moment, it is hard for me to release those in my life who repeatedly choose to be other than who they have the capacity to be – to be honest, those who are damaging to me. More importantly, I hope they will treat me differently than they chose to treat me in the past.

When I first heard the meditation at the opening of this post, it was as if I had been punched in the stomach. Sometimes truths are so profound that when confronted with them, they change something immediately and fundamentally. Sometimes they are the catalyst for a more gradual transformation. For me, this truth was both.

I listen to these meditations to help me sleep. After hearing this statement, I knew there would be no sleep that night.

I turned to my journals for insight and realized I had been writing about the same issues for 1, 5, 10, even 20 years! My anticipatory hope made it impossible for me to let go, to move on.

I believed I had forgiven. But in the same way that holding grudges, harboring resentments, not forgiving, keeps us from releasing the past and moving forward, anticipatory hope does the same. Because I held onto anticipatory hope, I had not released those I needed to release.

I am still a work in progress. Releasing the “what could be” is hard. It’s a desired future we hope for. It holds us bound to the past, hauling the weight of the past into the present and the future. Releasing that burden. Releasing those who are not who we wish they were (which, to be honest, is not their job in the first place) is true forgiveness. And, in the long term, a gift to them and to me.

* 21 Days of Meditation – Finding Hope in Uncertain Times