This is a personal journey. Hopefully it will help others, as it is helping me just by writing it. Briefly, for the last fifteen years I have been hit over and over again by serious medical issues. Each time I've had to reenergize myself; I often think of it as remaking myself. The journey is physical, cognitive, emotional, and, if it doesn't sound too pretentious, spiritual. If you're interested in the journey, follow me below the Itzl. (a nod to Noddy)
In 1997, when I was 42, I received a doctorate in clinical psychology. I was driven to get this training, nothing could have stopped me - I often said that it felt like a calling like a nun.
In Pennsylvania, the deal is you can't sit for the licensing exam until you work in the field for a year. Four months into this year, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I felt like someone had thrown me in front of a car. I couldn't catch my breath. I had three boys in seventh, ninth, and eleventh grades. I woke up every night sobbing that I couldn't leave my boys. I begged that I live at least until my baby was in college. I don't know with whom I was begging as I'm a lifelong atheist. Perhaps...it was like I was suddenly thrown into the maelstrom of the raw universe. I think I was begging for a little piece of control of the energy that swarms around us invisibly. Anyway, being psychologically-minded, I threw myself into all the emotions (I never do anything the easy way). Compared to the emotions, the medical treatment was a piece of cake - lumpectomy, radiation, chemotherapy. Surgery went fine, radiation was exhausting, chemo was a frigging nightmare. It has gotten much easier over the last 15 years. Believe me, I know ... but we'll get to that.
My journey through all this brought some of the most meaningful experiences I've ever had. My children are incredible. They were totally supportive. I'd come home exhausted from work or treatments and my middle son would take off my hat and scarf (I utterly refused to have anything to do with wigs) and would scratch my itchy bald head. All of the boys would seek me out for private talks. The youngest needed a lot of reassurance. This made me stronger because he needed that. My oldest son came into my room one day and said, "Mom, they talk about a five year survival rate. That's not long enough. I want my children to know what a wonderful person you are". We both cried and held each other. I once expressed regret that I had virtually abandoned them for five years while I got my doctorate. The oldest said, "For those five years you kept us in $40 sweatshirts and $100 sneakers so we'd look like everyone else. I, for one am grateful. And if you hadn't done what you did, I wouldn't be doing what I'm going to do". He has since gotten a PhD in molecular cancer biology, and will receive an MD this May.
So I watched us all survive and grow up, and learn how to support one another. Honestly, they were stronger than I was. I couldn't sit for licensing until 2000 because my hold on life felt so tenuous. As soon as I was licensed, I opened a private practice and was very successful quickly. I felt like a new and stronger person. I loved helping people and feeling how the depth of my experience helped me empathize and understand at much deeper levels. My career was everything I'd envisioned and at some level, I felt like I was being rewarded for being a survivor.
Then, in 2002, I woke up one Saturday morning and, in trying to move to get to the bathroom, realized that I'd had a stroke. I'd fallen on the floor and needed my husband to put me back to bed. I wouldn't let him take me to the hospital (I can be as stupid as the next guy). I was so exhausted I just wanted to sleep. I didn't tell him it was a stroke. After two more hours of sleep I let him take me in. I was "lucky"...yeah, right. I had some motor difficulties, poor proprioception (couldn't control arms and legs), couldn't physically form words because my facial muscles were affected. The symptoms improved pretty quickly - I could talk within 24 hours, slowly and painfully. I could walk pretty normally by day five. They sent me home on day ten. I had some physical therapy, but basically was able to rehab at home in a couple of weeks.
Once again the real difficulty was emotional. I went right back to feeling fragile and tenuously on this planet. Kids were at various and sundry colleges. I went back to my practice, but the joy was gone. I was constantly exhausted, felt like I was watching my life from afar, was unengaged unless I was in a session with a patient. I didn't come out of it and no one told me the exhaustion is absolutely typical and lasts for years. It takes an amazing amount of energy for a body to heal. I became extremely depressed, suicidal and finally went for psychiatric medications. My practice was withering and I could do nothing about it. It took a very long time to find medications to deal with my depression. Eventually, I closed my practice because it was the only ethical thing to do. I was unable to work for quite a while and it was clear to me that I had lost the drive I was accustomed to having. I couldn't even think about opening a practice. I looked for work for two years and finally got a job as clinical director of a community mental health center. I felt much more like myself when I started doing therapy again. I was still a different person than prior to the stroke and the depression, but I was useful to people. This second remake just about tapped out my energy.
Two years into this job, I was diagnosed with breast cancer again. I felt strangely relieved. I didn't have to expend all my energy just to get to work. I hadn't even realized how difficult it was until I didn't have to do it anymore.
So, here we are at 2010, the year of the surgeries. I had only one question for the oncologist, "is the prognosis different the second time around?". The answer was no, the chances of long term survival are just as great. So I just stepped back into the treatment.
This time it was a double mastectomy and chemo. The surgery was very rough; they had difficulty with the breast reconstruction. I had three very long surgeries during a ten day stay in the hospital. I again had incredible support from my children ... and this time from my siblings as well. The boys were pros and not afraid this time, or so they said. My oldest sister stayed with me the entire time I was in the hospital. My other sister stayed with me the first week I was home. I'm not sure I would have survived without her. She helped me take care of bandaging, managing six drains, and took me to all my medical appointments. My brother stayed with me the second week. Dave's mission in life is to help others have fun. He took us out to eat, to see the movie Avatar, to play trivia in sports bars. Mind you, all these people lived in other parts of the country. I felt so loved!
Genetic testing revealed that I have crappy genes, so they performed an oophorectomy. They installed a port to use for administering chemotherapy. I almost immediately had a severe infection at the port site. I was back in the hospital for a week on antibiotics , then two weeks of IV antibiotics at home (i have become quite proficient at infusions). Next up was to remove the expander from that hadn't worked with a flap and replace it with a silicon implant. My knee was damaged hiking and I had surgery on that. Basically it was a year of surgery.
By March 2011, I was ostensibly ready to work again. But I wasn't. I lethargically looked for work. For the first time in 25 years, I came to really SEE the incredible landscape we own. I watched every new wildflower as it came up. I walked a mile up and down our creek every day. Turns out this is really good resistance training when you're walking against the flow. I started feeling alive again as I explored the life around me. I started straw bale gardening, planted little flowers beds on rotting logs, picked flowers for anyone who would take them.
I found myself through all the life around me. I feel so connected to life that Spring and Summer and again this Spring. I need to find a job, but I feel like I'm just finding myself. I play with my cat Cicero and my dog Happy, I garden, I play in the creek. I was really serious about the job hunt around December, then I fell and broke four bones in my right ankle. I was unable to put weight on the ankle for four months. I am now in physical therapy. I'm physically and emotionally exhausted. Part of me is crying out "Why me?". I try to minimize the self-pity, but it seems like it will never end. So it's time to remake myself again. I'm searching for...the energy to move on and be productive again. I'm afraid of losing myself if I leave my land, so I'm taking time out for guilty pleasure. Then I discovered Kos. For now, it is the only social life I want. Not particularly healthy, but the best I can do right now. I'm so much more in touch with myself when I'm soaking up the life around me. Below are the Buds that keep me moving.
I'm afraid of losing myself if I leave my land. I've always been pretty self-sufficient, but I found myself drifting into a world of my own. I'm so much more in touch with myself when I'm soaking up the life around me.