Tuesday, October 8, 2013

Is the Glass half full or half empty?

10/8/2013

In what realm do you live your life?  Do you truly live in the reality, seeing things through practical, black and white eyes?  Or do you live more in the realm of intention, where you assume the state or situation that you dream to be in?  Maybe you live with both of these working for you at different times.  Over the past few years I’ve learned that I live more in the dream realm with believing things are what I want them to be rather than what they may actually be. 

Maybe it’s not at all the actual state that we are in, but in how we choose to view each day and event in our lives.  Unlike many, I’ve viewed cancer as a gift.  Maybe not a gift I want to keep on giving, but a gift nonetheless.  Recently, a friend made a comment of how my life has been a series of tragic events over the past few years and how sad she is for me.  It shocked me a bit to hear her say this, because I never really saw it that way.  Yes, some unfortunate things have happened, but I still feel I have a great life.  I don’t feel my life is great because of what happens or doesn’t happen in my life, BUT because of who I am and how I choose to handle what life events occur.  

I’ve had a couple of things recently test my Polly Anna view on things.  A member of our survivor group recently passed, after a 10 year struggle with ovarian cancer.  As a board member of the Ovarian Cancer Alliance of Central California, I attended an Ovarian Cancer celebration dinner the last week of September (September is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month).  I didn’t know many of the women at the dinner and I quickly became aware that many in this group have had quite a struggle with the disease.  At least 5 of the 15 women at the dinner were “typical” ovarian cancer patients.  They don’t really talk of their first diagnosis or a recurrence, the way I do.  They speak of being in treatment on and off for the last 5 or so years.  One woman had been in treatment for the last 8 years and spoke about the chemo she was currently taking was the only one remaining that she had not used.  She said, “If this one does not work, that’s it.”  I quickly became panicked and wanted to leave, but I had rode there with someone else. 

By the time I reached home I was deep in fear mode.  I doubted my dreamy perspective and way of dealing with things.  I thought that maybe I should be looking at my situation more realistically, rather than always being quick to assume that I’ll be an outlier of the statistical odds.  As a Nurse Practitioner I know that what these women described is the most common course of the disease.  As a dreamer, I didn’t want to believe that it could happen to me.  I was truly rattled to my core and cried myself to sleep that night and woke up the next morning crying again.  

I’ve been put to the test again today on how I view my life and situation.  I have to admit that I’ve been living in fear all day which is why I’m choosing to write today.  My hope is that by writing out my thoughts and sharing with others, that I will change my perspective on how I’ve been thinking all day.  Please don’t excessively worry about what I’m sharing, because I know that if you contact me in the next 24-48 hours I will have already changed my perspective back to my Polly Anna approach and will be viewing today as just a tiny blip in the journey.  Today may actually be the reminder I need, NOT to live in the mode of fear, and simply BE! 

I have blood work done every 4 weeks to check my tumor markers.  This is a way for the oncologist to monitor if cancer cells are growing again.  It is not the most reliable of tests, in that many other conditions in the abdomen can elevate the number.  While I was in chemo, my numbers dropped lower than anything my oncologist had ever seen.  So I knew that after chemo the numbers would go up some, but there is no way to know how high they will increase before leveling off.  The level maintained in August at 4.  The number increased slightly in September to 8 and I hoped this would be where it leveled off.  This week’s number was 12.  With perspective, I realize this number is still very low but it has me rattled.  Part of the issue, is that I don’t have the experience of having the level checked and seeing fluctuations without any significance.  My only experience with fluctuations was the number increasing, starting the fall of 2011, which ultimately showed the cancer had recurred.  

I’m left to redirect my feelings on this matter, away from fear, and adjust my outlook to remember where I am at today.  I am alive, first and foremost.  I am enjoying life.  I am feeling well.  I am completely impassioned with what I envision for my future. I am ultimately grateful that the lab test is NOT showing a huge elevation.  I will continue to be faithful, to all that I do, that I believe is helping me to achieve a greater state of health.  I will, also, continue to write because I enjoy sharing with all of you and I am deeply interested in hearing how my thoughts help you to experience just how precious it is to live our lives together.  


Thank you for being in my life and interested in living to the fullest.  Here’s to being the ultimate optimist.  

1 comment:

Marilyn Derby said...

As I read your post I am reminded of the counselor at Kaiser who taught me how to manage my internal conversation and thus change my outlook and life. He and I didn't talk about the impact of having a positive outlook on my physical health, but of course we now understand the connection. It's a constant process - listening to your self-talk and intentionally managing it so that you can live the life of your dreams. The dreamer in you has brought you far and has much farther to go.

Caden and I just finished a beautiful little book called Feathers. It begins with a stanza of a poem by Emily Dickinson.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all

It reminded me of you. This morning I'm remembering the bird that was singing to us all day while we sewed and visited, singing a tune a without words and never stopping at all.


Dr. Oliver