Humility

Walking Through Cancer: Part 19

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The Rewards of Friendship

It’s part of the human condition to take things for granted sometimes. We have a myriad of excuses, of course. We wouldn’t want to do periodic self-assessments to see if we need to change anything. The older we get, the more set in our ways, the more prideful we become. We’re doing fine, we say, it’s young people who need to shape up and emulate us!

This is why I am a “grateful alcoholic.” If I hadn’t been a substance abuser and had to face terrible personal consequences because of it, I might never have tried to change my character. Enter Twelve-Step recovery, a guide for living that helps us be the best people we can be.

That’s it, just a few guidelines to follow, many of which strangely echo the Golden Rule. Most of my childhood friends don’t remember me because I was very unhappy in that town. When we moved away, I never looked back, and neglected to keep up with them, sure that it would be of little consequence.

My oldest friend in northern Virginia was my best friend for years. Our children grew up together, and we were a constant support for each other. But after I moved West with Gene, I dropped her as well. Out of sight, out of mind?

But I’m happy to say that I reached out to Gail recently and we arranged a Zoom chat on her account. First, the amends. I was so sorry for carelessly discarding her like I did. “No apologies are necessary.” she offered, “we all have busy lives.” And we proceeded to chat as though no time had passed. What a gift to us both to reconnect like that. And all because of cancer.

Cancer can be a deal breaker in some ways. It was telling Gail about my cancer that was the conversation opener in my email, and something she responded to, predictably, with love and concern. It can serve as a motivator in so many ways: from valuing our days as though they were numbered—and living accordingly; to making amends to people we’d been avoiding because we can do it later.

It has to do with vulnerability. Allowing myself to be vulnerable is hardly a sign of weakness. I’ve been told over and over from people who’ve read my memoirs that it’s a particularly appealing trait. If nothing else, it evens the playing field among friends and acquaintances. No more need to compete. We are all equals.

Before I went into recovery, my outside didn’t match my inside. If I had any friendships at all, most of them were pretty superficial. But as I’ve become more comfortable in my skin, I’ve become more honest with everyone.

And the rewards? Many more friends, an end to loneliness, and deep gratitude that I have been given a second chance to live life better than before. I’ve enjoyed such a wonderful life. And now I have the good sense to appreciate it and reap the rewards.

Dancing In The Rain

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The road to my spiritual life began when I was a young child growing up in an alcoholic family. But I didn’t start to walk down this road until halfway through my life when my daughter fell ill with substance use disorder.

I was very unhappy growing up. It’s a classic story of family dysfunction that many of us have experienced as children. But back then I didn’t have Alateen to go to. My father was never treated and died prematurely because of his illness. I, too, was untreated for the effects of alcoholism, and grew into an adult child.

Well, many of us know how rocky that road is: low self-esteem, intense self-judgment, inflated sense of responsibility, people pleasing and loss of integrity, and above all, the need to control. I carried all of these defects and more into my role as a mother to my sick daughter, and predictably the situation only got worse.

I was a very hard sell on the first three steps of Al-Anon, and my stubbornness cost me my health and my career. But once I did let go of my self-reliance, my whole life changed for the better. The Serenity Prayer has been my mantra every day. I’ve learned to let go of what I can’t change. I don’t have the power to free my daughter of her disease, but I can work hard to be healed from my own. This is where I’ve focused my work in the program.

My daughter has gone up and down on this roller coaster for more than twenty years, and right now she’s in a very bad place. But that has only tested me more. My faith grows stronger every day when I release my daughter with love to her higher power, and I am able to firmly trust in mine.

Friends of mine ask me, “How do you do that? You make it sound so simple!” I tell them, “First of all getting here hasn’t been simple. It’s the result of years of poisoning my most important relationships with the defects I talked about earlier. I knew I had to change in order to be happy. Secondly, I fill my heart with faith-based unconditional acceptance of whatever happens in my life. It’s my choice.

Somewhere in the readings, someone wrote ‘Pain is not in acceptance or surrender; it’s in resistance.’ It’s much more painless to just let go and have faith that things are unfolding as they are meant to. There’s a reason that HP is running the show the way he is. I just have to get out of the way; I’m not in charge. I also read somewhere the difference between submission and surrender: submission is: I’ll do this if I get XYZ; surrender, on the other hand, is unconditional acceptance of what I get. Well, the latter is easier because I’m not holding my breath waiting for the outcome. I just let go – and have faith. Again, it’s a very conscious choice.

We all have different stories. What has blessed me about a spiritual life is that I can always look within myself and find peace regardless of the storms raging around me. I’m learning how to dance in the rain.

Walking Through Cancer/Part 18

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                                          Testing My Mettle…Yet Again

Last spring when I had raging carpal tunnel syndrome in my hands AND a viral mouth infection so severe I couldn’t eat anything but pablum, I whined that “it never rains, it pours.” Well, those two maladies were a walk in the park compared to falling down the stairs and breaking my humerus three days before my first chemotherapy infusion.

“God,” I said looking up as though that were where He lived, “You are really testing me. Geez, isn’t t-cell lymphoma bad enough without having to cope one-handed with my arm in a sling?”

It’s a good thing I couldn’t see Him because I knew he was smiling, sure that I would meet this challenge just fine. And I would have slugged him, I was so mad.

At myself, of course. I talk about remaining teachable and I think THIS time my self-will has wrought a bad enough consequence to make me stop in my tracks. How did this happen? I failed to turn the night light on, was nearly finished barreling down fourteen steps in slippery socks, missing the last one, and plummeted onto my left side at the base of the stairwell.

My first thought: I will not be defeated by this. I got up and was grateful I could walk without pain. More gratitude: it was my left side and not the dominant right. I went to my phone and called 911.

Camano Island Fire and Rescue was there right away and whisked me off to Skagit Regional Hospital in Mt. Vernon. X-rays were taken, and I waited in the outer area for my friend to come and take me home. Oh, did I mention that Gene had just that evening flown to San Francisco for the memorial of a friend? Timing…

I was quite alone in my house, but not for long. The front door was constantly revolving all weekend with friends coming over to teach me how to wear a sling, cut up vegetables, open bottles for me, perform a myriad of tasks reserved for two-handed people. I’m so grateful for them.

My son took me to my first infusion the following Monday. He held his tongue, but I knew he was furious that I could allow such a disaster to happen at the start of my chemotherapy. When Gene flew back the next day, more dismay and head-shaking that I could have been so careless.

So there you have it. This occurred on October 17, just eight weeks ago. It was fractured badly and the ice cream is nearly off the cone. Still quite painful, it’s not going to heal on its own. So I saw a shoulder surgeon this week and he’ll schedule surgery for as soon as possible, when treatment is over.

The sooner the better, so I can get through rehabilitation therapy and hopefully get back to paddling my kayak this summer. Am I too ambitious? Nah.

And I’m nothing if not determined…

Walking Through Cancer/Part 17 conclusion

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A Changed Life

It’s a fortunate person who has evolved enough to realize that he needs to change in order to live his best life. I am one of those fortunate adults.

Spending many weekends down in Seattle at my son’s house to bond with my young grandchildren, I was regularly drinking in his basement where I’d been sleeping. I was not ready to work on myself and give up my thirty-year habit. Then one day he and his wife took the time to confront me about it.

We sat down together at their dining room table, and he minced no words:

“Mom, we know what you’re doing in the basement. All our vodka bottles are empty.”

Immediate shock, humiliation, and the realization that I had not been fooling them all these years. If this intervention had happened years ago, I’m sure that I would have responded like this:

Full of indignation, I would have shouted, “How dare you speak to me like this? You owe everything you are, your education, your trips, the love and support I have given you since the day you were born, primarily to me!”

But on that day, April 25, 2017, I responded differently. I said very little, just that I was so sorry that I’d been behaving so recklessly for so many years. They never asked me to join AA. That was my decision. And from that day, I’ve never thought about drinking alcohol. At last, this student was ready for the teacher. I’m so grateful that I’ve remained teachable.

Since then, my life has improved exponentially. I continue to be devoted to my Al-Anon groups. But, a “double winner” I am called, I also attend AA meetings even more frequently. Some of the meetings are just for women, and the other ones I attend with Gene. This awakening on my part has brought Gene and I closer together. He had endured my drinking in all our years together, but knew better than to pressure me to quit. That desire had to be born deep inside of me, and not to please him, or my son, or anyone else. I had to believe that I was worth the effort to stop drinking.

My relationships have improved since I’ve given up alcohol. The twelve steps are essentially tools to help us realize our potential as human beings. The ‘God steps’ I spoke of earlier are a lesson in humility, where I let go of my arrogance enough to admit my powerlessness over people, places and things. The next steps involve looking at ourselves honestly and becoming aware of our defects. This exercise is followed by sincerely making amends to people we have wronged.

Finally, “having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.”

This is the transformation I write about in all three memoirs, and it’s a glorious one, indeed.

Walking Through Cancer/Part 17 continued

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                                                         Healing

When I was seeing a counselor at work in Virginia, she suggested I try a 12-Step group called Al-Anon.

“Oh no, that’s not for me,” I responded, convinced that I had all the answers to Annie’s problem. Yet I was desperate for help, and was willing to try anything, so I began attending a regular Saturday morning meeting. But I was essentially paying lip service to a program I was too arrogant to believe in. I felt I had all the answers and was unable to accept her substance use disorder as a disease I had no control over.

The first three steps of all the 12-Step programs are the “God Steps.” We admit we are powerless over whatever it is that we are trying to free ourselves from; in my case, trying to control my daughter. But I needed to learn to let go of Annie. “Let go or be dragged,” they say in Al-Anon.

After six years of attending meetings, and still unable to save her with the only kind of love I could offer, I suffered the clinical depression I spoke of in the previous segment. That’s when Gene and I left Virginia and moved to New Mexico. We enjoyed a decade of living in “the land of enchantment.” But Annie was still floundering, and I stepped up my drinking. I couldn’t bear the pain of losing her.

My son and his wife had moved to Seattle for work, and they started having children.

“Mom, please think about moving up here with us so you can be closer to the children and watch them grow up.”

This was a no-brainer for me and Gene. We had spent the early years of our lives together paddling canoes all over the country, so being near water to continue that pursuit would complete us. It was the one thing that was missing in the desert of New Mexico.

I quickly sold the condo I owned in Virginia and bought a nice home on Camano Island, an hour north of Seattle. Gene wasn’t quite ready to let go of his orchard and the sunshine of New Mexico, so we went back and forth between our two homes for four years. But we eventually got tired of all the fence-sitting and made a decision to sell our little pueblo house to live full-time on Camano Island.

Life was good. I had begun publishing award-winning memoirs while still living in New Mexico, and was about to publish my second one in 2020. Having joined Story Circle Network in 2013, I used their publications to write  a number of short pieces and see them in print. Story Circle Network is an outstanding and versatile organization founded by Susan Wittig Albert back in the 1990’s, specifically as a venue to encourage women to find their voices and write.

Between that and publishing my memoirs, the catharsis I needed to open my eyes and begin the healing process had begun.

Walking Through Cancer/Part 17

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   No Spirit At All

Learning to live well is a skill that many men and women aspire to, especially as we grow older. Some of us are aware of the wreckage we left behind if we were burdened with demons like alcoholism or other forms of substance abuse. Even addictions like gambling, sex and workaholism can interfere with a more functional life.

Ever since I was a teenager, I had struggled with eating disorders, which seems to be a common theme among many young people who grow up in an alcoholic home. That led me back in the 1960’s to diet doctors and amphetamines, which were easy to acquire. And I loved them because they relieved me of my depression, the underlying cause of my misery.

I, nevertheless, proceeded through life doing pretty much what my parents expected me to do: marry a suitable guy and raise children. My husband, three children and I lived a privileged life in the Foreign Service, living overseas for fifteen years. But I wanted a career, and my Cuban husband did not approve. So rather than work it out for the sake of us all, I insisted on a divorce and moved back to Virginia with the children.

This was a very heady time for me. I landed a job teaching English as a Second Language in Arlington Public Schools, and threw myself back into the teaching career I had begun years earlier in Nicaragua. My children were ten, twelve, and fourteen at that time, and I essentially left them alone to raise themselves. Their father was very generous with child support, but he was so angry about the divorce that all he gave us was money. He refused to share custody with me. And that did a grave disservice to our children.

And so continued a period of years where I received great satisfaction in the classroom. But I was a far less successful parent. The kids were hurting badly, but did well enough on the surface for me to rationalize their pain. Annie, my middle child, however, turned to drugs when she had barely graduated from George Mason University, and has been in and out of that hellish life for twenty-two years. Hence, the wreckage I spoke of. I did have her in therapy early on for about ten years, but to no avail. I eventually suffered a nervous breakdown from my repeated attempts to “save” her, and took early retirement from a job I adored. Another price to pay for my self-absorption.

My partner and I moved to New Mexico to start over, and enjoyed a decade running an orchard and selling produce at the local markets. But I had years earlier in Virginia traded my food obsession with alcohol and embarked on thirty years of drinking. I was a pretty functional alcoholic, never missed a day of work, but no more evolved spiritually than the man in the moon.

My real work was soon to begin.

Walking Through Cancer/Part 14

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                             Pink Clouds Don’t Last Forever

It would be so nice if they did.

I’ve had two chemo infusions, and the first one was such a breeze that I wondered what they put in the cocktail. No side effects, and I marveled at how easy chemotherapy was now. I felt wonderful afterwards, and the best part was that the fatigue in my legs was gone. I have energy that I haven’t felt in many months, and it’s been great to experience, especially when I remember how active I used to be with Gene. To have that taken away was hard.

So with my infusion last Tuesday, I expected the pink cloud to last. But it’s gotten a little rougher. The nausea has been really hard, so I keep popping nausea pills which have their own side effects. Heck, no one ever died of nausea. I’ll get through it, but I suspect it might get worse before it gets better. Chemo treatments end on February 3, and then I hope my hair starts to grow back quickly. Oh, I can dream…

All this is a small price to pay for possible remission from my lymphoma for ten more years. The Fred Hutch Cancer Center where I go to see Dr. Christina Poh is one of the best cancer centers in the country, right up there with Sloan-Kettering in New York and Anderson in Texas. And it’s right in my back yard. I’m so grateful to all the doctors and nurses there. They have pulled out all the stops and are exceptionally thorough. And no matter what happens down the road, I know that I’m getting the best care available to me. No doubts, a very secure feeling.

On the home front, my life is so fulfilling. There’s nothing like getting sick to inspire your friends and family to show how much they value you. We humans can be so lazy in that regard. I hope I never get that lazy again, and continue to pay it forward. Next Saturday Gene and I are flying to Anaheim, CA for a week with my kids and grandkids: Disneyland, Santa Monica, and LA! I’ve never been there and am so excited. We’ll go to a restaurant for Thanksgiving dinner, and it will be divine to not have to do all that cooking for once!

Then we fly back and I have two more infusions before Christmas. Gene will step up for me and do all the heavy lifting to prepare the house for Christmas: get the tree and decorate it, make dinner for us all while I hide behind a mask the whole time.

I used to dread the holidays because they were so sad for me as a child. But I’m not a child anymore. Now I see them as yet another opportunity to celebrate my life with my family in the present moment. And oh, what joy we give each other now. If we look for joy, we will find it.

Walking Through Cancer/Part 13

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                                               The Second Assault

Back in 1951, my father was 40 years old, with teeth like chalk. He drank too much and indulged in too many sweets. Predictably, he had so many cavities that his teeth were falling out. In those days, reparative work in dentistry was not what it is today, and he had what were left of his teeth ripped out and started wearing a full set of dentures.

As luck would have it, I inherited his soft teeth, and have had to undergo the same amount of reparative work in my own mouth. And for similar reasons. But dentistry has made remarkable strides in the last generation, and dentures are actually frowned upon now, not unless you are indigent. And, of course, they are the cheapest solution, but dentists want to cash in on all the new ways to save teeth: crowns, bridges, gum grafts, implants. I’ve had them all.

So when I got cancer, I knew that a common side effect to chemotherapy would be mouth sores and infections, along with possible damage to my existing teeth. This has happened to me. I usually wear a brace on the few lower teeth I have in order to protect them while I eat. And lately, I’ve become remiss in wearing it. I woke up this morning and felt one of them looser than before. So I quickly put the brace back in place and vowed to do no more chewing, just eat soft foods for the duration. This will not be hard for me: remember that I’m indulging in spaghetti and mashed potatoes, cake and ice cream lately. I’ve lost too much weight and really need to go in the other direction. Silver lining? You bet, and I’m relishing it!

To make this long story short, I will probably lose that tooth before I end my chemotherapy infusions. Hence—the second assault. More time spent in the dentist’s chair, a lot more money enriching my dentist from the cost of implants and whatever else I may need. It goes with the territory and cancer treatment.

The rest of my skeleton needs to be coddled as well, especially now. I have full-blown osteoporosis already, and I cannot afford to fall down again. But haven’t I said that before? J

If a smashed upper humerus and my arm in a sling for two months, with all the pain that accompanies it—and in the midst of all my cancer treatments—hasn’t taught this student a hard lesson about stairs and lights and slowing down…well, I do hope I continue to remain teachable. I have been duly humbled by this latest accident. And I’m hoping for a complete recovery in my arm, after I undergo much physical therapy.

But there are silver linings everywhere in life, even with cancer. I’ve written about them often in these twenty-two diary entries. The more I feel the darkness approaching me, the more I turn toward the light. It’s blinding sometimes!

Walking Through Cancer/Part 10

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One Tough Old Bird

Nearly three years ago, I tripped on a towel in our bathroom and fell, whacking my head against the porcelain tub. I broke six ribs, had a pneumothorax, and a teardrop fracture in my neck.

It was my fault, moving too fast in an unlit room, I made a promise to myself: I can never fall again. Period. Well, “Promises are like piecrusts…” Is that how it goes?

Five days before my first chemo infusion, I made the same mistake. I had a fall that resulted in a significant fracture of my humorous (upper arm). OMG, I can’t believe my timing! I’ve started out in a sling and the orthopedist saw me yesterday. Because of the cancer treatments, we’ve elected to avoid surgery for now and let it heal in the sling for six to eight weeks.

“Marilea, the human body is a remarkable machine. It will heal itself if we are patient and let it. If you use the sling for the next two months, slow down, and use the time to rest, it will eventually heal itself. You will need to do regular exercises and maybe work with a therapist regularly, but I think we can avoid surgery, which is problematic at your age, not to mention your cancer treatments.”

“Thanks, Doc. I’ll learn to be patient and let my arm heal on its own. See you next week for a checkup.”

Ladies, have you ever tried to get dressed, pull your pants down to go to the bathroom, floss your teeth, cut vegetables or an apple, just live your life the way two-handed people do? It’s damned inconvenient. And slows me down, probably a good thing.

So here’s another lemon in my life: the broken arm.

Lemonade? It could  have been SO much worse. I could have had a concussion, broken a hip, compromised my legs and ability to walk. Walking, oh wow, that’s number one on the gratitude list. If that were compromised I might have just had to put everything on the cancer side of the drama on hold until I could walk again! So lots of silver linings to pay attention to and deeply felt joy and gratitude that it’s just a broken arm. Oh, another glass of lemonade? My ability to see all the silver linings and allow them to elevate my spirit.

The spiritual part of this journey is absolutely essential to holistically healing my body. My alcoholism recovery is the basis, of course, for all this healing and has saved my life. Minimal whining, endless joy and gratitude, A deeply held faith that life is unfolding for me as it was meant to. I’m in God’s hands. And however much time I have left on this earth, I will live it to the best of my ability, and accept, gracefully accept, God’s will for me.

Amen, and stay tuned for the continued cancer part of my saga!

“The Road Less Traveled”

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I think we, who are willing to be in this room and undergo personal change, are brave souls.

When I joined Al-Anon, I was in my Fifties, and anxious to save another person I loved.  But oh what a joy it’s been to let go of that obsession, which was becoming so shrill and counterproductive.

I was relieved to turn the focus back on myself and learn that my faulty attitudes were the source of my pain, not the people around me.

Regarding the amends steps, it’s possible to overuse them, just as we might exaggerate our negative defects in the 4th step. I’ve done both! That’s why it’s so important to understand the purpose of amends: reaching personal freedom.

These are intended to be hopeful steps, not self-flagellation. Making this list and then acting on it is just another way to weed our garden. My husband’s always reminding me to weed close to what we’re growing, so that nothing interferes with the growth of the plant.

Making amends is not always pretty, and rather than freedom I sometimes look for forgiveness and closure. With my daughter, Annie, she threw them right back in my face. So I knew I was on the wrong track to expect absolution from her, and my sponsor helped me appreciate my efforts and then let them go.

My real reward has been surviving that loss without the need to punish myself for it.  Truth is, I’m really not that important! Things happen in life, and it’s not always my fault.