I’m writing this blog with an energy tank that’s running on low and a love tank so full it’s nearly spilling over. Last week, we were blessed with the vibrant company of dear Indiana friends for a staycation week that broke up our cancer “sludge” in the most wonderful of ways.

Megan is my oldest close friend, dating back nearly 25 years to our college days. Since then, we’ve moved, traveled, grown up, married, became mothers, lost parents, gained parents… you name it. She is the ying to my yang. I love her contentment with simple things (wish I was more like that), her photographic memory (whereas I can’t remember my own anniversary), and her quick, easy laughter that lightens a room instantly. Her husband, Steve, is just as loved by us Sweeneys. Steve is laid back, hard-working, a great Dad, always ready to help a friend, and never takes himself too seriously. And Brooks and Maggie, their two awesome kiddos, and Henry have always gotten along like they were besties forever.

It just works. Those are the kinds of friends you keep around forever, and then some.

And what a great week it was! Beach days, pool days, fishing on Lake Cachuma, lots of naps, wine tasting, golfing, baseball games, a meet-and-greet with other dear friends (Gabby and April from The Shaving Party blog), horseback riding, tide pooling, mountain drives… we did it all despite the colossal heat wave that baked our hills and valleys in the afternoons.

Unfortunately, it was also the week I was scheduled for my “big chemo” (Taxol/Carboplatin/Keytruda). We tried to pack in as much as we could before chemo on Wednesday because, historically, I would likely be struggling come Thursday and Friday.

As we were sitting on our pontoon boat in the middle of Lake Cachuma Wednesday morning, I saw a voicemail pop up from Dr. Kass.

“Your platelet levels are too low for chemo this week,” he said, “and I wanted to catch you before you made the drive over the hill.”

I told the group the surprising news. This was a new issue. I’d had low white blood cell counts, but not low platelets until this point.

We were all quiet for a moment.

“Are you disappointed?” Megan asked me. Small waves gently lapped the sides of our boat, filling the silence.

I thought about it for a second.

“No,” I answered, “I’m really not. First, it means I get to feel good the whole week you’re here! But second, I trust the process that is holding me through this. I trust it completely.”

And I do. I profoundly and deeply trust it. I know that every small detour is, in some way, simply a guided deviation for my good. Often, I learn why later. Sometimes it’s a small reason. Other times it’s a big reason. But it’s always a good reason. And I’ve come to rest–like, really rest–in that fact. What a difference it makes in my perspective.

We had a wonderful remainder of the week with them. Full of great conversations, possible future trips to look forward to, and lots of belly-splitting laughter. It was hard to see them go, but, man, what a wonderful visit.

…Girlfriends (and their families) are everything.

The Power of Positivity

Excuse this cliché subtitle. One topic I’ve been batting around inside my fun chemo brain for a while is the topic of positivity during the healing process, both as a mind/body connection and simply because there’s just a lot to be grateful for. Listen, I’m not one to stick my head in the sand and say, “Don’t worry. Just be positive!” On the contrary, I’m the one who needs to do all the research. Understand every step of the process. Know I’ve done my homework. Trust my team. Be confident in the data. I need to know I have good reasons for my positivity. That part of it is on me to do my own due diligence.

On the other hand, I feel like there are gifts scattered abundantly along this cancer path–and every person’s path, for that matter–that provide legitimate reasons for choosing gratitude-filled positivity over negative talk, both externally and internally.

Allow me to digress into some of my swirling questions lately.

Why is negative language so prevalent in the cancer journey? Fight the fight. You are a warrior. Going into battle. F*ck cancer.

Why is resistance language so rampant within the cancer journey? I’ve now read countless cancer journey books and articles that outline every grimy detail using resistance language that, if cutting to the chase, ultimately asks the same underlying question: “Why me? What did I do to deserve this? I don’t want this in my life.”

I mean, I-get-it-but-I-don’t. I’m in such a different headspace.

I’ve been shocked at how prevalent this resistance language can just surround and envelope someone during this process. If I weren’t so cocooned in my own world, that tempting negativity could really lasso me in. And then pull me down.

A dear friend forwarded me an article recently. The gist was encouraging mothers with breast cancer need to prioritize their healing and self-care, despite our mothering instincts. But here was the paragraph that stood out to me:

“Each day has brought new reminders of my own fragility, all that I am losing or will soon lose – my hair, my productivity, a breast, bodily integrity, reproductive function, faith that my body is an ally rather than an enemy, the capacity to enjoy flavorful foods and tend to my own children without risk to myself. I imagine [my daughter’s] basket of clean laundry, and I imagine letting it sit, unfolded.”

And while I acknowledge that every person’s journey is unique, it continues to gnaw on me that this perspective is so prevalent and therefore so accessible. I mean, it’s just everywhere. Like a carrot dangling in front of you.

Of course, there is much loss. But there is even greater gain to be had. Precious growth and rebirth and renewal to a level beyond that which is available to most people in this lifetime. What a travesty it would be to miss this, and so many other gifts, in our desperate grasp for control!

I don’t know. Maybe these are crazy words coming from someone trying to reconcile the fragility of life. But also…

Maybe safety and security aren’t where we do our best growth.

… Maybe cancer is my best gift.

Rather than focus on losing my hair, I can embrace the freedom it offers!

Rather than lament my lack of productivity, I can lean into my slowed schedule and be more present in my daily life.

Rather than grieve the breasts I will say goodbye to, I can thank them for their service and then celebrate modern medicine gifting me another pair that will be just as good, if not better!

Rather than mourn bodily integrity, I can thank God I’m living in an age where breast cancer is no longer an automatic death sentence.

Why use language like “my body is my enemy?” My body is still brilliant and divine and is fighting hard on my behalf!

I could go on and on.

But I’ll tell you this: I can look you in the eye and tell you, with absolute certainty, that there is another option. Another choice in perspective. We are surrounded by negative talk, but we can choose to see the positive. And it’s better not only for my emotional well-being on this psychological marathon but also for my ultimate healing.

And I’m not talking just about cancer.

 

Anecdote 1:

I heard a nurse once say that she could look around an infusion center and tell you with some degree of certainty who would do well with their treatments and who would not, simply by the mindset they publicly displayed.

Anecdote 2:

A friend of mine who is also a young mother to a classmate of Henry’s and lives a few doors down from me recently finished her journey with Triple Negative Breast Cancer just as I was diagnosed. (The odds, I know.) She, too, saw Dr. Kass. (He’s a popular choice.) She gave me permission to share a part of her story. Demory was reticent to do chemo because, as a rule, she’d always been very careful about what she put in her body.

Dr. Kass heard her out and then responded.

“Demory, you ultimately have the final say in your treatment plan. But you’re a young mother. You have too much at stake and too many years ahead of you. I’m exhorting you to do chemo. With that said, I will not administer chemo unless you are behind it 100%. If you aren’t behind it, it won’t work.”

Dr. Kass is a vocal advocate of the mind/body connection in the healing process. (P.S. She did chemo and is now cancer free. Can we give her a round of applause???)

Anecdote #3:

It is a widely known fact that things like lowered stress boosts immune systems. And practices like prayer, gratitude, meditation, and positivity allow for that environment within your body. So, for me, it makes perfect sense that living from a positive place (“Within this journey are many gifts and trustworthy guidance I can rest in) vs a resisting place. (“Why me? Why am I being dealt this loss and grief? I don’t want this.”)

 One encourages healing of the mind, body, and soul. The other resists. The Leukemia Foundation offers a great article on this topic. If you’d like to read it, click here.

Inclusive Positivity vs Toxic Positivity

Please let me be clear, I am in no way shaming any emotion. Every person deals with disease or trauma in her/his own way. And to be honest, I hesitated to post these thoughts for fear people could feel shamed for emotions such as anger, grief, worry, and fear.

I absolutely am not. I’m not “up” all the time. I often feel sludgy, at best. (I wrote about it two weeks ago.)

Change, on its own, is a complicated grief. Much less, one that involves making eye contact with our own mortality.

Additionally, I acknowledge the fact that I am exceptionally fortunate. Fortunate to be a white female living in California with access to world-class health care. Fortunate to have great insurance. Fortunate to have the most “popular” type of cancer and therefore some of the most advanced cancer medicine. Fortunate to have experienced a smooth, efficient, and expedited process with, so far, no real hiccups. Fortunate to be not experiencing a ton of major chemo symptoms and side effects. Fortunate to have a deep wealth of a support system enveloping us on this journey.

I know I’m fortunate.

All I’m saying is that there is always, always something to be grateful for. And that is what I choose to be guided by. I truthfully do not feel full of loss. Quite the opposite. I feel like, in many ways, I’ve been given the gift of a lifetime. A gift to experience the lows so the highs can be higher. A gift of greater empathy. Greater ability to be present. Greater insight into priorities. And I sincerely feel that I’m being upheld at every juncture in this process by a higher power (in large part, I’m sure, because of all your love and prayers).

My Aunt Kim is a beautiful soul who regularly sends me encouraging messages that I’ve grown to savor. She sent this to me after I published “The Sludge” which talked about my scrambled egg of a chemo brain and difficulty organizing or planning anything.  

 Maybe now you are to Be!

Instead of doing and creating.

Just allowing the Divine to flow and glow when it happens.

Silently developing the new Evie. The true Evie. Divine and beautiful!

Your new You is in its embryo stage.

And all the important details need a bit of time to form,

  Giving meaning to your seemingly slow journey

That really is allowing moments of newness to develop

As you become aware of aspects of the perfect You

That you will reclaim.

Truly exciting!

Truly Wholeness!

Truly Divine Evie!

 

Perhaps that is the source of my hope… being blindly led around every corner by Something that I trust impeccably, over every hurdle, in this unfamiliar territory. Sometimes gifts are plunked right in front of me. Other times they are detours that guide me effortlessly. But I will tell you this: They are plentiful and consistent and good. And I trust it. Simple as that.

So, when Megs asked me if I was disappointed, this is why I said “no.”

It’s just another little detour along this path that is reinventing me to my full wholeness.

We all have that one thing that feels like it can close in on us at any moment. No one’s exempt. For me, it’s cancer. For you, it’s probably something else. The easy thing to do is resist it. The harder thing to do is dare to see the good. But I believe it’s also where the real magic happens.

And it’s mine for the taking, as it is for you.

 

A few concluding thoughts for the week:

• We are back to chemo on Tuesdays, i.e. Celebration Tuesdays.

• My platelet levels had recovered, so I was able to get chemo this week! However, my white blood cells are still low. I will be taking the booster injection daily until next week in hopes that I’ll be good to go next Tuesday. I only have two more weeks of Taxol, which marks my halfway point through chemo.

• We met with the radiation oncologist on Tuesday. I was under the impression that a bilateral mastectomy allowed one to bypass radiation. Not the case, especially for BRCA-positive patients. So 28 days of radiation will happen 6 weeks after my mastectomy. Additionally, I was told I had to wait 4-to-6 months after radiation before my reconstruction surgery. This was a little disappointing, as I would love for all of this to be behind me by the beginning of next summer. We will be doing more research to see if there is another way to make that happen, which is my prayer request for this week.

• Thank you to the secret friend that sent Henry an adorable gift card for his school backpack this year. He picked out the coolest Lionel Messi backpack that even I wish I could have!

• Thank you to Shelley Solberg for the beautiful bronze of the famous Arabian stallion, *El Shaklan. (My horse friends will know this horse.) Wow! It makes me so happy whenever I look at it. People are so unbelievably kind.  

• Thank you endlessly for your love, support, care packages, words of encouragement, and prayer. It is appreciated beyond words.

 May you journey lightly and dare to see the Good that surrounds us all.   

With love,

Evie