spirituality

Walking Through Cancer: Part 20

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Midway and Beyond

Christmas and New Year’s have come and gone this year, with 2025 freshly starting. After the year I’ve had on the health front, and the rest of the country on all fronts, it’s time now to take stock if we haven’t already and plan for the year before us to be a good one. Maybe not on all fronts, but I’ll settle for remission from my lymphoma after treatment ends on February 3rd.

To that end, my oncology team at Fred Hutch Cancer Center never misses a step in my monitoring. A midpoint PET scan was scheduled for January 6, and I always dread those tests. They don’t miss a thing. The radioactive dye they inject into me and allow to marinate for an hour reveals all the “hot spots” in my body. Hot spots are where many infections reside, and cancer cells in particular love them. So with some trepidation I looked at the results, remembering that I still have two more infusions to go.

My tumors are mostly gone, and that’s good news. Ninety percent of them have disappeared. I felt this had been happening, just based on how I’ve been feeling since my treatment began in October. The CHOP chemotherapy formular has been working to fight the proliferation of t-cells in my blood, which had been sapping my strength. They’re not all gone, I’m not there yet, but hopefully two final infusions will zap the last tumor in my groin. Maybe the PET scan in February will show me in remission. Six infusions seem to be the magic number.

Mindful that t-cell lymphoma tends to be refractory, I’m aware that whatever amount of years I’ve been granted may come to an end eventually. But why think about that? If fighting a deadly cancer has taught me one thing, it’s to focus on the here and now and utter appreciation for whatever good is happening in my life. When have I ever been motivated to behave this way? When have I ever learned to fully appreciate all that I have and all that I’ve been given? It’s like being a “grateful” alcoholic. If I hadn’t found the tools to help me be the best person I can be, I probably would have lived my life pretty much operating at 50% of my potential. Now I have the opportunity to be better and do better. And that all translates directly into improving my relationships. This is the basis for my happiness, how I relate to other people, and the end of my isolation.

I just celebrated my seventy-seventh birthday. This is quite a milestone! Every new year asks us to take stock, and I believe birthdays do that as well. But past birthdays are just that: milestones. The journey they mark is the thing.

“Age is irrelevant.  Ask me how many sunsets I’ve seen, hearts I’ve loved, trips I’ve taken, or concerts I’ve been to.  That’s how old I am.”

Author unknown

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.

One New Year’s Resolution

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One New Year’s Resolution

Happy New Year! Regardless of the storms swirling around us, I will try to remember what’s most important in life. I ask myself, “How important is it?”  before I work myself up into a lather! I’ll try to slow down and not overreact to events. I’ll try to keep things in perspective and maintain a healthy attitude.

Let us all try to live well and hope for the best in our world.

The Duality Of Holiday Hype

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There’s something about the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas that helps to distract me from whatever cares and woes might be weighing me down. As you know, I resist those woes anyway—gratitude is a powerful tool. But they’re still there. The hype of the season has the power to bring any losses into sharp focus, even as we are celebrating our good fortune. We’re only human.

How can I forget the past twelve Christmases when I knew nothing of Annie or where she was? I can’t. I have pictures of her all over the house along with all my other loved ones. She’s not dead, and even if she were she would be remembered by me in countless ways; using her name as a login for some of my accounts; decorating the Christmas tree with all the ornaments she made when she was still my young and innocent daughter.

Perhaps because of the terrible stigma attached to substance abuse disorder, friends and family members shy away from speaking of her, as though that would erase the pain of her loss.

I seem to be the only one in my family who can remember her without shame or guilt. Only love. Even her brother and sister won’t speak of her. My son refused to tell his children about his sister, and so I finally did. In the most matter-of-fact manner, they had already been curious about the “phantom Annie” in the pictures, and I answered their questions. Not too much information, just enough to tell them that drugs destroy lives, as they destroyed their aunt’s. Take this, I implored them, as a cautionary tale.

And so I put my thoughts of Annie in a back drawer and open the front drawers of my life. I take joy in my two other children, grandchildren, Gene, my family of origin, and many friends, both new and old. From my three memoirs and all my blog posts over the years, I have made my life an open book so that any reader could see how one can rise from the saddest of circumstances to a place of spiritual good health and joy. With work, and dedication, and the desire to make the most of the rest of my life.

“Life is not always what one wants it to be. But to make the best of it as it is, is the only way of being happy.” ~Jennie Jerome Churchill

Surrender Is Not Submission

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From Each Day A New Beginning, July 19:

“‘At fifteen life had taught me undeniably that surrender, in its place, was as honorable as resistance…’ ~Maya Angelou

We had to surrender to a power greater than ourselves to get to where we are today. And each day we have to turn to that power for strength and guidance. For us, resistance means struggle—struggle with others as well as an internal struggle.

Serenity isn’t compatible with struggle. We cannot control forces outside of ourselves…And when we choose to surrender our attempts to control, we will find peace…”

I often write about the pain of resistance. How the very word carries an aura of courage and strength. Those of us who have addicted loved ones would do anything, it seems, to save them from such a miserable life. I spent a number of years trying to save my daughter—resisting—and refusing to allow her the dignity of her own (poor)  choices. I felt courageous then, determined. I couldn’t surrender to the power of addiction; I thought it would be cowardly.

But I tried and failed to save my daughter. She’s been in and out of recovery for over twenty years. And though I pray she reaches for recovery again and comes back to her family, I can’t make that choice for her. She can only save herself. And I truly believe that the addicts who recover do so because it is their own desire to get their lives back—not someone else’s.

So I’ve learned that I can only save myself. When I give up the struggle to change things I can’t control, my life is more peaceful. I find the energy to focus on gratitude for what’s good in my life.

Sometimes letting go—not resistance—takes courage.

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.

Spiritual Levitation

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“The serenity I am offered in Al-Anon is not an escape from life. Rather it is the power to find peacefulness within life.

Al-Anon does not promise me freedom from pain, sorrow, or difficult situations. It does, however, give me the opportunity to learn from others how to develop the necessary skills for maintaining peace of mind, even when life seems most unbearable…

Serenity is not about the end of pain. It’s about my ability to flourish peacefully no matter what life brings my way.”

In the movie, “The Shack,” Mac has a dream and in it he meets God. Mac had recently lost his young daughter, and in his anger and bitterness he lashed out at God. Who else to blame? God (a woman in the movie) came right back at Mac with Her own defense: She didn’t orchestrate all the misery on earth: Ukraine, The Holocaust, children starving in Nigeria. “Don’t blame me for all that,” She said.” My purpose is to help you rise above it.”

Wow, those are powerful words, and they remind me that I am not alone in my struggle, that God (or any form of a Higher Power) wants to partner with me if I accept him.

Al-Anon has the same purpose in my life. God doesn’t have the power to return my daughter to me. But if I continue my daily practice of gratitude, accept what I don’t have the ability to change, and have faith that God’s plan is unfolding for a greater good than I may ever see, I can live peacefully and even joyfully, savoring all the goodness that is in my life. It’s my choice.