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.
Deborah's Deliberations 