Survivor's Guilt

If you are a cancer survivor then you are probably all too familiar with survivor’s guilt. I myself have felt it many times over the 6 years I have been cancer free. Each time I would hear about a coworker, friend, or anyone connected to me that didn’t make it I would wonder about myself. All those recurrence fears reared their ugly heads from the all too close by place they were hiding. All those thoughts about why I was still here flooded through me. I couldn’t help but wonder what it was that made me different and worried would I be next?

There was a coworker of mine that helped me alot when I was diagnosed. She had finished her treatment for breast cancer which included a lumpectomy, chemo (the kind where you don’t loose your hair- I tried to bargain for that and lost!) as well as tamoxifen which I did not take against my oncologist’s advice. You see, on paper she looked much better than me. Her tumor was smaller and her cancer was not invasive like mine was.

After I left that job and moved on I had gone back a couple of years later to visit and I found out from a friend that she had passed away from a recurrence of her cancer with mets. I almost couldn’t breathe. I thought about her and about her kids who would never see their mom again. I thought about how she took her tamoxifen and did all the stuff she was told but still didn’t survive the second time around. I wondered what made her different than me. I wondered why I was still here and why she had to die. I wondered when it would be my turn.

Since then I have also watched my husband’s sister die of cancer at only 27 years old. My husband’s aunt passed away a year later. This year in April my dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. And the question still remains……why am I still here? My dad’s recent diagnosis has hit me like a ton of bricks. I can barely write the words let alone say them. I can’t yet fathom the idea that another of the four of us in my family has the big “C”. Like we hadn’t suffered enough with my cancer stint. Like surviving his alcoholism wasn’t bad enough. And losing my husband, and the list just goes on….

At this point I really don’t have a concrete answer to my question. All I can come up with on a higher level is that I have more work to do here. I am not done learning yet. But dam it I am gettin pretty tired!

Tears Over Rudolph

The other nite I was channel surfing and I stumbled upon the airing of the Christmas classic Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer on CBS. It was the last fifteen minutes but I was glued to the TV. As a child it was my very favorite Christmas special and I couldn’t wait till it was on. Back then Christmas was my favorite holiday. I loved decorating the tree, baking cookies, and my grandma’s lasagne dinner which was a Christmas tradition.

As I watched Ukon Cornelius and Hermie the wanna be dentist searching for Rudolph and his family who were captured by the Bumble I heard my mom’s voice circa 1978 saying to my brother and I “Rudolph is on tonite!” I heard us respond with “Yeaaaaaa” as we clapped our hands. It was like nothing else mattered in that moment then. As those memories came flooding back my eyes started to well up and tears began to fall. I thought to myself what an idiot I was for crying over Rudolph! But then suddenly realized what the tears were really about. I felt sad about the loss of innocence. I longed for the days before I knew what dying was, before I ever lost anyone close to me, before I even knew the word “Cancer”. I thought about how simple life was then. I thought about how exciting Christmas was when I believed in Santa, how excited I was as a child to leave my letter to Santa with some milk and cookies on the kitchen table. And even more excited as I came downstairs that morning to see all the presents he left under the tree. I remembered what it was like to go to Christmas mass and have dinner at grandma’s later that day with all of us together. It was before I realized what all the yelling and arguing was about, it was when that was just a part of the day.

Today the holidays are harder because I can’t help but think about all the empty chairs around the dinner table. I can’t help but think about what could’ve been….what my life would be like if I hadn’t gone through the tough times that were thrown at me.

But then again, I know I wouldn’t be the person I am now. I just wish I could figure out how to get back some of that innocence. To get back that ability to live so freely. I remembered what that was like for just one moment as I shed tears over Rudolph…..

What I Should've Said...

What I should’ve said was “I love you” before you walked out the door. If only I had known it would be the last time I would see you. If only I had known that was my last chance. You were not yourself that morning. The spooning didn’t linger too long and you jumped up out of bed almost as fast as toast popping up when its ready. When I came downstairs to say goodbye I took in the image of you sitting on the couch wearing your favorite Giants baseball cap as you tied your high top sneakers. I asked if you were ok. You snapped back at me, something you just never did. It made me feel uneasy. I wondered what was wrong. I wanted to fix it. I always wanted to fix things then.

Your last words to me were “Hey Cat, can you at least take out the garbage for me today?” Cat was one of the many pet names you gave me. I told you that I would and looked at you wondering what I did wrong. I wondered why we didn’t say “I love you” to each other before you jetted out the door in a huff. I took those things for granted then. I took you for granted. For years I lived with many regrets, that was one of them.

Later on that day I would have the chance to see you again but it would be in the morgue. Then it would be your coffin. Then I would never see you again.

Today I am remarried and I never want to live with regrets. None of us knows what the future will bring. Every morning Lou leaves for work I always say “I love you”. And he always says it back. Then we hug before he walks out the door. I hope he will always come home to me where I will be waiting for him with a big hug hello…….the hug I never got the chance to give to you that day……

And sometimes I can still feel you hug me from heaven……

Finding the Sun...

Here is my little boy, Bosco, laying in the sun. Wherever it is, wherever he can find it, is where you will find him. No matter how hot, he practically burns himself to fully worship the sun.

Over the weekend I was having a bad, panicky morning and as I sat on the couch worrying about stuff, the stuff I can’t control I watched my boy laying on the floor in front of our all glass storm door. It has become his spot, it is the spot in the house where there is the most sun. The sun is so intense at times that the wood floor gets very warm. There he was flopped on his side just laying there taking it all in and I could tell he was enjoying every minute of it. Peaceful and serene. That was what it looked like to me.

I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Which may sound crazy to some of you but its true. As I watched him soaking up the light and the warmth I wanted to enjoy it too. I thought “wow, he has it figured out” That is really all we need…..the sunlight, its warmth, and a place to just lay down and relax. We need to have more time in our lives, in our days to just sit back and face the light, enjoy the moments….the moments away from the chaos, the anxiety, and the fear. Sometimes it can consume us and when it does it can steal so much time. Time that is too precious to waste.

I think there is so much to learn from our animals. Bosco has taught me many things about life. In my many observations of him going through his day for him it is all about food, sun, love, and companionship and not necessarily in that order. I need to focus on more of those things during my day. Ok, maybe not the food but the others….yes.

I need to look for the sun in my day, in all the things that I do. If my dog can figure it out, than why can’t I?

Where do you go to find your sun?

Death Doesn't Take A Holiday...

That was the headline nobody wanted me to read….the news they didn’t want me to see on September 5, 1994. The day my life stopped.

I remember sitting at my dad’s house after we had just come back from the morgue where I saw Paul’s body, the last time I would ever see him, ever. Forever seemed impossible to me then, and sometimes still does. As I sat in the chair sobbing till I had nothing left in my body, till I was dropping to the floor there was a lot of bustle around me, I heard muffled sounds, voices that I couldn’t make sense of and yet they were so close. The news was on TV that nite and everytime I wanted to watch nobody would let me. Apparently Paul had already made a headline that nite. I was angry because I wanted to see it…nobody understood it was all I had left….all that was left of him.I was clinging to any thread of hope that he would come back to me….that I could see his beautiful face, feel his strong arms around me. The place where I felt safe.

Safety became something I would never feel again. Love was something I feared I would never experience without him in my life….until I met Lou.

The next day when the newspaper came out I got a hold of it somehow and read the headline…. “Death Doesn’t Take A Holiday”. It was like someone was cutting through a wound so deep, till more blood came weeping out of it. It was Labor Day that year, the day of the accident. What creative writing. I wondered if that person ever lost someone who was their whole life, I wondered if they realized the impact of their words….the words that have stayed with me for the past 13years, about the special person in my life who couldn’t stay…..

The one who went to fly with the angels……

What I Didn't Tell You...

What I didn’t tell you then was that I had cancer. I didn’t look like a sick person yet. It was our third date, I had started my chemo and as I walked up the stairs to your apartment I noticed shedding hair on my white shirt. Luckily my boob sans its headlight was hidden underneath.

As I brushed the hair away and reached the top I felt my heart pounding and I was out of breath. And not in a good way. Not in the “I am excited to see you, butterflies in my stomach” kind of way. It was my surgery and chemo fatigue setting in and I didn’t want you to know.

As I stopped to catch my breath there you were in the doorway smiling. Smiling at me……the cancer patient. This was to become my new identity.

I didn’t want to tell you that I was afraid I might die, I didn’t want to tell you my hair was falling out. I just wanted you to like me. I didn’t want cancer to scare you away. I was angry that it was taking away my life but not by my death. Which is worse I wondered….actually dying or having a life and not truly living??

I didn’t want to tell you because I thought you would leave, I thought it would push you away……and that is exactly what it did.

Writing From the Heart

That is the title of a great book written by Nancy Slonim Aronie. It is one that every writer should read. I believe it will change you in many ways and not just in your writing. You see it is a spiritual journey that Nancy takes you on in both her book as well in as her workshops. Nancy has been a writer for many years as well as a commentator for National Public Radio’s All Things Considered. Nancy does not believe that anyone can really teach writing. What she does believe is that she can provide a safe place to write because if one feels safe than they can achieve many things. And as someone who has attended a few of her workshops I certainly can attest to that.

I read Nancy’s book first which takes you on a spiritual journey of what it means to be a writer. In the book she shares her own experiences as a writer but more importantly as a human being. She includes many exercises throughout the book which are really good and fun. It is in no way an intimidating process. I for one can say that writing workshops/classes have always greatly intimidated me. As a writer I never felt worthy enough to attend a workshop, probably because I didn’t feel like a true writer! But what exactly makes one a writer? I believe that we all have stories to tell, stories that have the power to heal us. When it comes to writing do you write from your heart?

In her workshop yesterday I sat and listened to her describe the difference between the brain and the heart and how it relates to writing. She described the brain as the computer and the heart as the place where you feel emotions. If you just write from your head or rather your brain you may be getting the information down on the page but it will be devoid of meaning, of inspiration. It will be missing the poetry, the rhythm that our emotions can create as we bring our words to life.

The other unique thing about her workshops is that you are given a writing exercise which is a lead in sentence, you write for about 15 minutes and then return to a circle where you have the opportunity to share with the group your creation. Everyone is given the opportunity to give feedback to each other. But it is all positive, that is Nancy’s rule. By the end of the day, there was much laughter, and many tears. I felt bonded to those in the room with me listening to stories of loss, and even of love. Stories of tragedy and of triumph. But what resonated throughout it all was the emotion being conveyed through each person’s words. Everyone seemed to be sharing parts of themselves that may have been tucked far, far, away. I have had this experience with Nancy’s workshop on more than one occasion and am still amazed at this environment she creates where we all feel safe to write. Where we all feel safe enough to write from our hearts……