I have started being friendly with a whole bunch of women who are breast cancer survivors like myself. I plan soon to attend a meeting of the YSC in Seattle, I've been frequenting the YSC boards, I've met people through my website, and I've met people through breastcancer.org's chat. I've also been "set up" with a number of women locally who have the same disease.
It has occurred to me that I am going to meet women with my disease who will die from it. This should be obvious - I am choosing to hang out with women who have a terrible diagnosis, and some of them are much further down the road than I am - but it seems that it has just occurred to me. I may make friends with people who will then disappear from the planet. (Of course, I am a risk to them in this category, too, but I refuse to think about that!)
I am inviting pain into my life. These women are all beautiful, and I have gained so much from talking to them. I will not turn them away or turn my backs on them, my new sisters. But I am terrified. How much pain will the next years bring? I want to believe that we will ALL succeed in our battle against this disease. I really do. But I know that I am inviting pain.
And it hurts.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
A meditation about God
I have been frequenting a bulletin boad for young (under 40) women with breast cancer. One woman posted a question about how others are dealing with issues of faith in a time like this, and how she felt like making a bargain with God ("Dear God, if you cure me,I will be a fabulous wife and mother, I will contribute to my community, I will....") and felt angry at God because she has had so much suffering in her life (she listed a long list of truly tragic things that have happened to her and her family; breast cancer was only one of the items on the list).
This got me thinking. I will be thinking about this often - and I HAVE been thinking about this often - but I thought that I would share my thoughts on the subject with you, my friends, family, and loyal blog-readers. Please know that I have the utmost respect for the religious beliefs of others, and I know that my beliefs have differences from many of yours. But please also know that I have a strong faith that there is a God, and that God is full of wonder. Thank you for respecting my beliefs, too.
Here is my response to the woman's questions.
--------------------------------------------
I read your post earlier and hesitated to reply, partially because it deserves some serious thought and partially because I don't have real answers for you. Here, however, is my best attempt.
My observation that life is NOT fair (children born into unloving homes, tsunamis, AIDS, breast cancer, infertility....the list goes on) has lead me to believe that God's role in our lives is to help us through the tough times, but not to dole out punishment and reward. I personally do not believe that God chose me to have breast cancer, I believe that it is simply something that is happening to me on life's road. That doesn't mean that I don't believe in God (though I do not feel any ties to specific religions or faiths, I do believe in God), and it doesn't mean that I don't believe that God is all powerful, it just means that I don't think of God as a puppeteer pulling on all of our strings to make us dance. In this beautiful existance we are given, there is pain and suffering; I believe that God serves us by giving us beauty in the midst of pain.
I don't ask the question "Why me?" because it's a question without answer. Instead, I'm trying to ask "What should I do with this?" because that question has many possible answers, and it allows me to take some control over the path that I will take. I didn't choose breast cancer, you may be certain of that (sigh), but I can choose to use this as a chance to get closer to friends and family, to find real purpose in my life, to participate in finding a cure for breast cancer, and more - I don't know exactly what I'm going to do with "this" except that I know that I will fight. And fight. And fight. I suspect that God will approve of my fighting, and with that suspicion, I will continue to fight.
The Beatles song "Let it be" comes to mind. I am trying to simply let it be. I can not explain the creation of life but I know that it is beautiful; I can not explain the existance of breast cancer but I know that it exists. I'm trying to just "be" with the experience. I try to accept that this is happening (no that does not mean that I like it), and just....be.
When I was 18 years old, my cousin (who was like a sister to me) was killed in a car accident. She was 17. I have grieved every day of my life since then for that loss. I will never understand how someone so beautiful and strong could be wiped off the face of the earth in an instant. I grieve not only for the loss of my beautiful friend/cousin, but also for my own loss of innocence. Up until that point, I had felt untouched by real sorrow in my life. At that moment, Pandora's box was opened, and I saw the pain and suffering that were possible in the world. I have had other pain since then, of course, but that was the first time I had real pain. In the years that have followed, I've come to the conclusion that this type of pain is impossible to comprehend - I have accepted that I will never know or understand why Kathy could no longer be with us.
I don't believe that God wants us to suffer, or that he chooses us for suffering. I believe that suffering, simply, "is." It's part of the package. It's not fair, it's not nice, and we fight and kick and scream about it, and hope that God can grant us some peace about it, but it's inevitable. As to who gets it, I believe it's just a coin toss. The events of the past and the future do not predict the coin toss, so it's possible to get 12 heads or tails in a row, not because of divine intervention but because it's simply possible. I believe that the horrors of breast cancer do not make us immune to the horrors of the past or the future....they are simply the present. I am trying hard to accept that, and to realize that my future (for I believe that I MUST have a future, and hope that belief never goes away, not even for a minute) is no brighter or dimmer than it was before my diagnosis. It simply *is*.
In re-reading this, I feel that I haven't expressed myself nearly well enough, and I'm sorry for that. I also don't want you to think that I think I have all of the answers - my journey is new, just beginning, and I have more to learn than I wish to learn. I wish you peace and understanding, in whatever form it may take for you, and I CERTAINLY wish that your family might be protected for the next 75 years from further pain. We all deserve that.
With love and peace,
Kristina
This got me thinking. I will be thinking about this often - and I HAVE been thinking about this often - but I thought that I would share my thoughts on the subject with you, my friends, family, and loyal blog-readers. Please know that I have the utmost respect for the religious beliefs of others, and I know that my beliefs have differences from many of yours. But please also know that I have a strong faith that there is a God, and that God is full of wonder. Thank you for respecting my beliefs, too.
Here is my response to the woman's questions.
--------------------------------------------
I read your post earlier and hesitated to reply, partially because it deserves some serious thought and partially because I don't have real answers for you. Here, however, is my best attempt.
My observation that life is NOT fair (children born into unloving homes, tsunamis, AIDS, breast cancer, infertility....the list goes on) has lead me to believe that God's role in our lives is to help us through the tough times, but not to dole out punishment and reward. I personally do not believe that God chose me to have breast cancer, I believe that it is simply something that is happening to me on life's road. That doesn't mean that I don't believe in God (though I do not feel any ties to specific religions or faiths, I do believe in God), and it doesn't mean that I don't believe that God is all powerful, it just means that I don't think of God as a puppeteer pulling on all of our strings to make us dance. In this beautiful existance we are given, there is pain and suffering; I believe that God serves us by giving us beauty in the midst of pain.
I don't ask the question "Why me?" because it's a question without answer. Instead, I'm trying to ask "What should I do with this?" because that question has many possible answers, and it allows me to take some control over the path that I will take. I didn't choose breast cancer, you may be certain of that (sigh), but I can choose to use this as a chance to get closer to friends and family, to find real purpose in my life, to participate in finding a cure for breast cancer, and more - I don't know exactly what I'm going to do with "this" except that I know that I will fight. And fight. And fight. I suspect that God will approve of my fighting, and with that suspicion, I will continue to fight.
The Beatles song "Let it be" comes to mind. I am trying to simply let it be. I can not explain the creation of life but I know that it is beautiful; I can not explain the existance of breast cancer but I know that it exists. I'm trying to just "be" with the experience. I try to accept that this is happening (no that does not mean that I like it), and just....be.
When I was 18 years old, my cousin (who was like a sister to me) was killed in a car accident. She was 17. I have grieved every day of my life since then for that loss. I will never understand how someone so beautiful and strong could be wiped off the face of the earth in an instant. I grieve not only for the loss of my beautiful friend/cousin, but also for my own loss of innocence. Up until that point, I had felt untouched by real sorrow in my life. At that moment, Pandora's box was opened, and I saw the pain and suffering that were possible in the world. I have had other pain since then, of course, but that was the first time I had real pain. In the years that have followed, I've come to the conclusion that this type of pain is impossible to comprehend - I have accepted that I will never know or understand why Kathy could no longer be with us.
I don't believe that God wants us to suffer, or that he chooses us for suffering. I believe that suffering, simply, "is." It's part of the package. It's not fair, it's not nice, and we fight and kick and scream about it, and hope that God can grant us some peace about it, but it's inevitable. As to who gets it, I believe it's just a coin toss. The events of the past and the future do not predict the coin toss, so it's possible to get 12 heads or tails in a row, not because of divine intervention but because it's simply possible. I believe that the horrors of breast cancer do not make us immune to the horrors of the past or the future....they are simply the present. I am trying hard to accept that, and to realize that my future (for I believe that I MUST have a future, and hope that belief never goes away, not even for a minute) is no brighter or dimmer than it was before my diagnosis. It simply *is*.
In re-reading this, I feel that I haven't expressed myself nearly well enough, and I'm sorry for that. I also don't want you to think that I think I have all of the answers - my journey is new, just beginning, and I have more to learn than I wish to learn. I wish you peace and understanding, in whatever form it may take for you, and I CERTAINLY wish that your family might be protected for the next 75 years from further pain. We all deserve that.
With love and peace,
Kristina
Girlfriends
Today I connected with two different girlfriends that I hadn't seen in a while. First, I went out with my delightful friend Molly, and we shopped in the Junction, had lunch at Alki, zoomed around in her "fancy car" (what Tessa called it) with the top down....and talked, and talked, and talked. I honestly believe that if life hadn't called to remind us of other things we should be doing, we'd STILL be talking, laughing...and probably drinking wine. ;-) The other girlfriend is my lovely friend Lynn, who brought us a great dinner tonight (yum and thank you!) and stayed a few minutes to chat and catch up. Lynn is a deeply spiritual person and I find myself wanting to absorb that spirituality into my own inner being - she has great wisdom in her words and I try to catch the gems as they fall from her mouth whenever I see her. Lynn is also beautifully, roundly pregnant, and I had so much fun catching up a little on the subject of her pregnancy while reliving my own in my own mind. Both of these friends are precious, and I guess I'm actually grateful to the stupid **** cancer for reminding me to bring them back into my life. Like everyone, we're all busy, and these friends had fallen through the cracks a little - it had been a while since I'd seen either of them - and I'm so glad that we were able to reconnect and remember the things that we adore about one another.
People always talk about cancer's gifts. I wish I was smart enough to figure out these gifts - which are available for the taking by ANYONE, it's not necessary to get cancer to get these gifts - without having cancer present them.
What gifts?
I am reminded of the incredible sisterhood of girlfriends. The sisterhood means that since getting breast cancer, my closest friends have grown even closer, and I have watched my friends near and far gather their strength to give to me. I have taken this sisterhood for granted, certainly....though I've always loved my girlfriends, I think that I'd forgotten just HOW deeply I care about them, and vice versa. A good girlfriend can make the bad days bearable, and that is really saying something. More than my good friends - on whom I've always relied - is the reminder that ALL women are part of the sisterhood. Total strangers have reached out to me to share their stories, to offer encouragement, and to cheer me on. Women that I barely know, who have never visited my home, have brought me incredible home cooked meals. Women in chat rooms for breast cancer patients have shared the most intimate details of their diagnosis and offered me hope. Acquaintance friends have offered deeper friendship to me. To all of this, I say THANK YOU! I love the sisterhood. I'm proud to be a woman, and to feel this incredible connection to the incredible women in my life.
Another gift is the gift of living purposefully. We all know that a bus could hit us tomorrow, but honestly, nobody is counting on that. I'm not counting on dying from breast cancer (I plan to die of old age, in my sleep, at age 100. Ryan will be at my side, and will also die in his sleep, at age 105, the same night.) but I'm certainly reminded of my mortality. This gift makes me want to make the minutes count, to use my life for something purposeful. I'm still thinking about what this means, but I think I know two things: 1) I need to help eradicate this terrible disease, and fundraising is probably where I can do that best; and 2) I need to write. I don't want to make my writing a series of random blog entries, I want to make my writing something purposeful, meaningful, and (let's hope!) literary, and I will work on that in the future. The NEAR future.
There are other gifts, but one of my greatest gifts - Tessa! - is calling me, and I must run. Love to all - I hope that at this exact minute, you are thinking of YOUR gifts.
With love,
Kristina
People always talk about cancer's gifts. I wish I was smart enough to figure out these gifts - which are available for the taking by ANYONE, it's not necessary to get cancer to get these gifts - without having cancer present them.
What gifts?
I am reminded of the incredible sisterhood of girlfriends. The sisterhood means that since getting breast cancer, my closest friends have grown even closer, and I have watched my friends near and far gather their strength to give to me. I have taken this sisterhood for granted, certainly....though I've always loved my girlfriends, I think that I'd forgotten just HOW deeply I care about them, and vice versa. A good girlfriend can make the bad days bearable, and that is really saying something. More than my good friends - on whom I've always relied - is the reminder that ALL women are part of the sisterhood. Total strangers have reached out to me to share their stories, to offer encouragement, and to cheer me on. Women that I barely know, who have never visited my home, have brought me incredible home cooked meals. Women in chat rooms for breast cancer patients have shared the most intimate details of their diagnosis and offered me hope. Acquaintance friends have offered deeper friendship to me. To all of this, I say THANK YOU! I love the sisterhood. I'm proud to be a woman, and to feel this incredible connection to the incredible women in my life.
Another gift is the gift of living purposefully. We all know that a bus could hit us tomorrow, but honestly, nobody is counting on that. I'm not counting on dying from breast cancer (I plan to die of old age, in my sleep, at age 100. Ryan will be at my side, and will also die in his sleep, at age 105, the same night.) but I'm certainly reminded of my mortality. This gift makes me want to make the minutes count, to use my life for something purposeful. I'm still thinking about what this means, but I think I know two things: 1) I need to help eradicate this terrible disease, and fundraising is probably where I can do that best; and 2) I need to write. I don't want to make my writing a series of random blog entries, I want to make my writing something purposeful, meaningful, and (let's hope!) literary, and I will work on that in the future. The NEAR future.
There are other gifts, but one of my greatest gifts - Tessa! - is calling me, and I must run. Love to all - I hope that at this exact minute, you are thinking of YOUR gifts.
With love,
Kristina
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Tired of being tired
This morning I met with my naturopath to discuss naturopathic ways of alleviating the symptoms of my treatment. We spent most of our time discussing my fatigue. I am tired. All the time. It never fades. And I'm tired of being tired! She is prescribing accupuncture, naps, and more protein in my diet (especially in the mornings). Let's hope these things work.
The tough thing is that, right now, I have a greater appreciation of life than I've ever known before, and it's so frustrating to be so desirous of living to the fullest when my body just wants to loaf the day away. I want to go out and be active in the sunshine...but when we get to the park, instead of being the mama running all over and chasing Tessa and playing on the monkey bars, I'm the mama who sits on the sidelines and says "good work" and then "okay it's time to leave." Ack. That is not who I want to be.
The doctor and I also discussed exercise. She would like me to do 30 minutes of walking (pushing a stroller is great as it adds some weight resistance) every day; she does not want me to do more strenuous exercise. I think I'll generally try to do this early, before I shower. If anyone is up for joining me, please call. Exercise, in moderation, can actually boost energy, and I'm all for whatever I can get.
One other note - have any of you seen the Nike Lance Armstrong ads recently? They show Lance Armstrong's press announcement that he was diagnosed with testicular cancer that had moved into his abdomen (and the screen flashes "and his lungs and brain" - Lance himself didn't know that yet as he made the announcement). In the ad, Lance looks like himself but so pale, and he doesn't look at the camera...he's obviously terrified. At the end of the ad, he says, "I fully intend to heal and resume my professional cycling career." Then the Nike swoosh, along with "Just Do It" is displayed on the screen. Well, this ad brings tears to my eyes. It is a real and true reminder that people beat the odds - Lance's prognosis was MUCH worse than my own when he was initially diagnosed, years ago - and go on to do amazing things with their lives afterwards. You can bet that I am cheering for Lance in this year's Tour de France, and that the yellow "LiveStrong" band that Ryan wears has a whole new meaning to both of us. I fully intend to Live. Strong.
And speaking of Lance, Ryan has the incredible opportunity to do a fundraiser for the LiveStrong foundation - there is a ride in Portland, OR on September 25 with Lance himself, and Ryan will be riding in the Peloton with our dear friends Paul & Libby and Ryan's biking buddy Kent, as well (they call themselves "Team DJ" and they rode STP in a day last year). Please stay tuned for fundraising details, and be prepared to take out your checkbooks. Details will follow in the next few days - stay tuned. :-)
A short nap is calling to me. Love to all!
Kristina
The tough thing is that, right now, I have a greater appreciation of life than I've ever known before, and it's so frustrating to be so desirous of living to the fullest when my body just wants to loaf the day away. I want to go out and be active in the sunshine...but when we get to the park, instead of being the mama running all over and chasing Tessa and playing on the monkey bars, I'm the mama who sits on the sidelines and says "good work" and then "okay it's time to leave." Ack. That is not who I want to be.
The doctor and I also discussed exercise. She would like me to do 30 minutes of walking (pushing a stroller is great as it adds some weight resistance) every day; she does not want me to do more strenuous exercise. I think I'll generally try to do this early, before I shower. If anyone is up for joining me, please call. Exercise, in moderation, can actually boost energy, and I'm all for whatever I can get.
One other note - have any of you seen the Nike Lance Armstrong ads recently? They show Lance Armstrong's press announcement that he was diagnosed with testicular cancer that had moved into his abdomen (and the screen flashes "and his lungs and brain" - Lance himself didn't know that yet as he made the announcement). In the ad, Lance looks like himself but so pale, and he doesn't look at the camera...he's obviously terrified. At the end of the ad, he says, "I fully intend to heal and resume my professional cycling career." Then the Nike swoosh, along with "Just Do It" is displayed on the screen. Well, this ad brings tears to my eyes. It is a real and true reminder that people beat the odds - Lance's prognosis was MUCH worse than my own when he was initially diagnosed, years ago - and go on to do amazing things with their lives afterwards. You can bet that I am cheering for Lance in this year's Tour de France, and that the yellow "LiveStrong" band that Ryan wears has a whole new meaning to both of us. I fully intend to Live. Strong.
And speaking of Lance, Ryan has the incredible opportunity to do a fundraiser for the LiveStrong foundation - there is a ride in Portland, OR on September 25 with Lance himself, and Ryan will be riding in the Peloton with our dear friends Paul & Libby and Ryan's biking buddy Kent, as well (they call themselves "Team DJ" and they rode STP in a day last year). Please stay tuned for fundraising details, and be prepared to take out your checkbooks. Details will follow in the next few days - stay tuned. :-)
A short nap is calling to me. Love to all!
Kristina
Monday, July 04, 2005
Happy July 4th
Today has been a lovely day again. It was very warm - even bordering on hot! - and we spent most of the day with our dear friends Michele & Dave, along with Dave's family, at their family cabin near Gig Harbor. Tessa absolutely loved playing on the beach with Dave's mom, Mary, and I think that the two of them fell in love with one another (okay by me - I love it when she makes friends and Mary is a warm, caring woman). We sat in the sun talking and drinking chilled white wine, and ate copious amounts of picnic food. It was relaxing, and very slow paced, which is exactly what we needed.
We left the cabin long before the fireworks started, and Tessa fell asleep in the car just as we'd hoped she would. So we're finishing the 4th at home, and I will soon crawl into bed to dream, hopefully, sweet dreams about strength and healing.
A special "hello" to my Ovusoft friends who sometimes visit me here, particularly Hummingbird and Damsel, as well as Irish Mama. Your kindness to me in visiting here and leaving thoughtful messages is delightful, and always makes me smile. Thank you!
Love to you all,
Kristina
We left the cabin long before the fireworks started, and Tessa fell asleep in the car just as we'd hoped she would. So we're finishing the 4th at home, and I will soon crawl into bed to dream, hopefully, sweet dreams about strength and healing.
A special "hello" to my Ovusoft friends who sometimes visit me here, particularly Hummingbird and Damsel, as well as Irish Mama. Your kindness to me in visiting here and leaving thoughtful messages is delightful, and always makes me smile. Thank you!
Love to you all,
Kristina
Sunday, July 03, 2005
An hour of perfection
For the past hour, Ryan, Tessa, and I have been in our backyard (a place that we consider to be our small slice of heaven). The plants in the beds are blooming, the grass is green, the lawn chairs are comfortable, and the styrax tree offers dappled shade...a recipe for perfection. We sat in the sun or shade, depending on our individual preferences, and enjoyed a simple lunch of berries, cheese, and crackers, and the food tasted like summer. Simple and humble, not grand in the slightest, but the day has been one for the memory books.
We brought out Tessa's wading pool, put her in her swimsuit, and she has been splashing, blowing bubbles, and laughing all the while. I'm including some pictures here so that you can see her glee. In these small moments, our family could not ask for more.
I hope that your day is similar, and that you are doing the things that most bring joy to your heart, as well.
Love,
Kristina
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
