The cancer changed my life forever. I made a decision to live, and that had a number of implications. I gained immediate clarity about what was important and began focusing on becoming well. I changed my diet, discovered herbs, explored holistic healing and learned what it meant to take care of myself.
Most important, I began asking the question: Who am I and what am I doing here? Previously, my concern was: What does everyone else want and how can I make them like me? I shifted from being involved with the changing demands of the outside world to focusing on what was in my heart. This was not an easy process, since I had spent my whole life looking outside for answers. I was so accustomed to ferreting out what other people wanted from me, I had no idea who I was.
I realized that my life totally lacked passion... that zest for living, that sense of joy, creativity and spontaneity that truly comprises life. Suddenly faced with possible death, I knew I had never really lived. In fact, there had been no “life” in my life. As a result of this awareness, passion became my reason for living. I committed myself to it wholly and completely!
No, I had no idea what it meant. I just knew that my daily purpose was to get up and do something passionate each day. I walked on the beach, discovered I love roller-coaster rides, took fun classes that wouldn’t make me a “better” person and read books I had wanted to read for years. I made a list of things I wanted to do before I died (whenever that might be) and as I did them, the list just grew. Enthusiasm, excitement and fulfillment were ends in themselves. I wanted to fully experience and live every moment I had left. I could wait no longer.
I felt more positive and hopeful. It took less energy to produce better results. I allowed myself to be uncertain about how my future was going to unfold; I just continued exploring and expressing my passion on a daily basis. I now know the sheer force of this commitment produced miracles.
By now, my business was shut down, I had no money coming in and no one was interested in hiring a terminally ill patient. But some of my old clients began calling and asking if I would do career coaching in my home. Heaven knows, nothing else was happening, so I said yes, but my consulting took a new turn. I talked about the cancer and my commitment to living a passionate life; I thought they might want that, too. Indeed, many wanted to hear more, and I began conducting groups. By the end of the first year working in my living room, I discovered I had seen more people and made more money than I had any other year in my career. After all those years of working and trying so hard, it was that simple. What a revelation! I knew I had stumbled onto something that could work for anyone who embraced it.
The other major miracle is that I have been cancer-free since 1987. My doctor is stunned by my recovery. When I have my annual checkups, he always comments on how well I have healed. Apparently, there are not even any remaining indications of the surgery. Is this the result of a commitment to passion? While I cannot prove it to you, I don’t doubt it. I believe passion is the strongest force in the universe and that it is a magnet for all one’s good— happiness, power, joy, abundance and health. You know how exhilarating it can be to be around a group of passionate people. It produces a euphoric energy. Like running, it creates endorphins in the brain. Endorphins boost and protect the immune system. Cancer is a disease of the immune system, so why couldn’t passion heal it?
For me, the process of dying brought great relevance to living. Today I bring as much life to living as possible. It has also become my livelihood. I built an organization called The Career Clinic, which has helped well over a thousand people heal their relationship with work through discovering their passions and purpose in life. Passion is not for the lucky or the talented; it is the fire waiting to be ignited in every soul.
Through cancer, I received the gift of life. Now I get to give it away by speaking and teaching, and do so with great gratitude and joy.
Mary Lyn Miller
What’s It For?
As a breast cancer survivor, I’ll be the first one to say that there is nothing funny about having cancer. But as a comedienne, I try to find humor in my everyday life. After my diagnosis in 1991, I began writing comedy material around my cancer experiences to help my own healing process. Six months later—between my third and fourth surgery—I began performing my “cancer comedy” for other cancer survivors to help bring some lightheartedness to a tough topic. I have expanded my presentation to include the physical and psychological benefits that we gain from laughter, the ways to find humor in our everyday lives, and many true and funny stories.
One of my favorite stories is from a friend of mine, Peggy Johnson, the 1995-96 Chairman of the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation. I thank her and her son, Jake, for allowing me to share their experience.
I have a card hanging in my shower with diagrams showing how to perform a breast exam.Usually I leave the card with the pictures facing the wall. One day, however, the cleaning lady left it turned outward. My 7-year-old son,Jake,saw it and asked me what it was for. Without going into much detail, I told himit was there to remind me to do something every month and to show me how to do it. Jake replied, “Mama, I can’t believe you don’t know how to wash your boobs.”
I share this story to illustrate three points. First, it’s a wonderful, true and funny story that makes us laugh. My motto is “Keep Laughing to Keep Healthy” because laughter is good for us. I truly believe the funniest stories are found in our everyday lives. Second, it’s an excellent story of perception and shows how two people can be looking at the same thing and see something different. We all can choose how we look at things that happen in our own life, even a cancer diagnosis. Sometimes, we just need a little more information or tools, like humor, to look at things differently and change our perception. Third, I hope that when women are taking their showers, they’ll remember this story and remember to do their breast exams because early detection is so important. For your very own free shower card, call the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation at 1-800-IM-AWARE.
Jane Hill
The Best Thing That Ever
Happened to Me
Happiness isn’t about what happens to us—it’s about how we perceive what happens to us. It’s the knack of finding a positive for every negative, and viewing a setback as a challenge. If we can just stop wishing for what we don’t have, and start enjoying what we do have, our lives can be richer, more fulfilled—and happier. The time to be happy is now.
Lynn Peters
Walk into any room where she is present and you’ll spot her right away. Attractive, well-dressed, friendly, with a terrific smile—and a warmth that radiates from her soul to yours. She portrays the image of one who “has it all” as she laughs, smiles and giggles with such confidence and self-assurance that all there envy her in some small way. You really have to wonder where all that “can do” attitude comes from. If you ask, she replies, “It comes from a belief in myself—you see, I have survived.”
No one would ever guess that this radiant woman experienced a serious problem in her life. Every incident from her past has been carefully noted and filed in its appropriate slot in the time span called life. This woman is noted mostly for her way of always giving to others. Most of the time she does not even wait for the question of how; the answer is “yes” right away. She is cheerful beyond the normal tolerance of human nature. Spending just one hour with her can do as much for you as a month’s vacation.
As I read and ponder the above words used in an editorial to describe me, I feel a slight smile slide across my lips. My life has not always read as if you might like to trade places with me instantly. Recall my quote from above, “I have survived.” The date was February 3, 1970, and at the age of 23, with three children under the age of 3, I was wheeled into surgery. They found a large tumor in the left chest wall, growing through my ribs directly over my heart and attempting to attach itself there. This needed to be removed immediately. And so it was. The result was an incision extending from the front of my chest all around to the back
in order to remove three rib sections over my heart. The muscles to my left arm were cut, making it impossible for me to use it, and the lung deflated and tubes were inserted. This type of major surgery, of course, altered the left breast dramatically. The diagnosis was fibrosarcoma of the chest wall. This left me with intolerable chest pain for the rest of my life, which would be complicated by injuries and scar tissue growth. Following the 11 hours of surgery, I was told that I would have a maximum of two months to live and that they would keep me as comfortable as possible. “You have cancer! Not only cancer, but one of the deadliest forms of bone cancer, with no possibility of survival.” Remember, this was is in 1970. Today, advances have been made, but the outcome still depends on each individual case. There you have it. The dreaded death sentence that everyone associates with the disease of cancer. Today, things have changed and instead of an automatic death sentence, we now ask, “What is my survival chance?”
I hope telling my story will give it a purpose far beyond my own existence. Maybe my suffering and all the survival techniques I learned as a result can help lessen some of the emotional burdens of others. My aim is to help everyone touched by this dreaded disease. You do not need to have the disease personally to become its victim. It can affect anyone who is in your world. I have attempted to take the loss and destruction that cancer caused me and turn it around. All of what I have been through made me strong beyond my years and tolerant of the many acts in life that usually elicit anger. My outlook is that all things can be wonderful—this smile, this touch, even pain and disappointment can give me a high because my alternative was not to be here at all. Make cancer give you more than it can take away.
When I received the news that I had cancer, I thought my world had just come to an end. My God, what am I supposed to do? I have three small babies at home and a whole life ahead of me. I don’t have time for this, nor do I want to be so frightened. Please don’t tell me that I am going to die. Please don’t tell me that I am going to suffer beyond anything that I could imagine. Please don’t take my world away from me and replace it with a living hell until such time that I exist no longer on this earth. Always we ask the question, “Why has this happened to me? What did I ever do to deserve this?” For these questions, there are no answers. We are not punished by having this dreaded disease, we only have it by chance.
Because of cancer, I learned to enjoy, respect, achieve, console, know great fulfillment and gain extreme insight into what is really important in this life. Too many people make the mistake of judging life by its length rather than by its depth, or by its problems rather than its promises. We have no say over the hand dealt us in life, but we do have a lot of control over how this hand is played. We are all responsible for bringing out the meaning of our own lives in each moment that we live. Remember each moment happens only once and can never be retrieved again. Everything we are, or are remembered for, revolves around our choices and our actions. Many times I have said, “I have been truly blessed throughout my life because I had the dreaded disease of cancer.”
Roberta Andresen
Fifty Things I’ve Learned
Along the Way
• I’ve learned that nursing is the hardest and easiest thing I’ve ever done.
• I’ve learned to take my job seriously but myself lightly.
• I’ve learned that every day I’ve held a hand but forgotten to chart vital signs I still may have come out ahead.
• I’ve learned that nursing is extraordinary because we do ordinary things so magnificently.
• I’ve learned that if I don’t get emotionally involved with my patients, it’s time for me to change professions.
• I’ve learned that when you’re 92, you shouldn’t have to beg for the salt shaker even if you have congestive heart failure.
• I’ve learned that a patient doesn’t get cancer, a family does.
• I’ve learned that a good physician is one who will say, “I have no idea what’s going on with this patient, come help me figure it out.”
• I’ve learned to help people see the “gift of cancer.”
• I’ve learned that if my child tells me she has a bake sale tomorrow at 8 A.M., to be thankful that it’s a bake sale and not a teenage pregnancy meeting.
• I’ve learned that whatever you need in a hurry will be in someone else’s room.
• I’ve learned that when the narcotic count is off, it’s usually I who forgot to sign something out.
• I’ve learned that healing the spirit is as important as healing the body.
• I’ve learned that if I don’t take care of myself, I can’t take care of anyone else.
• I’ve learned that hospital food must be a punishment for our sins in a previous life.
• I’ve learned that a body believes every word you tell it.
• I’ve learned that the nurse I’d like to have take care of the person I love most should be me or you.
• I’ve learned that time flies whether I’m having fun or not.
• I’ve learned that reality is what is, not what I would like it to be.
• I’ve learned that if I can’t cure, I can still care.
• I’ve learned that patient-centered care doesn’t mean amenities, it means empowerment.
• I’ve learned that one of the gentlest things I can do is attend all my patients’ funerals.
• I’ve learned that if I’m there before it’s over that I’m still on time.
• I’ve learned to separate between a minor event and a major episode.
• I’ve learned that it’s usually better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission, especially if I’m taking a St. Bernard to see a child in ICU.
• I’ve learned that good nurses aren’t measured as much by punctuality as by compassion.
• I’ve learned that the spirit of the law may be more important than the letter of the law.
• I’ve learned that every day I can make a difference in someone’s life, and that I choose to make it a positive difference.
• I’ve learned that if I don’t celebrate the exquisiteness of each day, I’ve lost something I’ll never get back.
• I’ve learned that what helps most when diagnosing patients is never walk behind or ahead of them, but rather walk with them and listen very carefully.
• I’ve learned that the more unloving a patient acts, the more he or she needs to be loved.
• I’ve learned that knowing when to stop treatment with a morbidly ill patient may be more important than knowing when to continue.
• I’ve learned that some things have to be believed to be seen.
• I’ve learned that addiction to pain medication is the least of our problems when a patient is in pain.
• I’ve learned that professionals give advice, but healers share wisdom.
• I’ve learned that meditation, group work, nutritional savvy and massage are as integral to a cancer patient’s care as radiation, surgery and chemotherapy.
• I’ve learned that wearing red polka-dot underwear under my uniform may not be the best choice.
• I’ve learned that grief knows no rules.
• I’ve learned that there is no room for bullies or whiners in nursing.
• I’ve learned that you don’t have to meet all the objectives to learn a whole bunch.
• I’ve learned that a nurse without a sense of humor should try to find a job as a shepherd.
• I’ve learned that having to work two weekends in a row is a minor event when my breast biopsy comes back benign.
• I’ve learned that I can work with almost any body fluid but mucus.
• I’ve learned that student nurses will do something every day that I didn’t think was possible.
• I’ve learned that no one promises us tomorrow.
• I’ve learned that medical students get anxious when I assign them nursing care or try to see if their chakras are open.
• I’ve learned
that if a confused patient accuses me of “poo-pooing” in his bed, I should apologize and promise never to do it again.
• I’ve learned that no one says on his death bed, “I wish I’d spent more time at the office.”
• I’ve learned that if a child is old enough to love, she is old enough to grieve.
• I’ve learned that a lot of patients get well in spite of us, but even more get well because of us.
Sally P. Karioth, Ph.D., R.N.
Peanuts ©1996. United Feature Syndicate.
Reprinted by permission.
How to Beat Cancer
Today, cancer is the most treatable of all chronic diseases. Half of those diagnosed this year will live out their normal life span, while over 2 million living Americans are now considered cured of cancer. If you have cancer, here are some specific ideas for making your treatment a success.
1. Confront Your Fears.
Cancer evokes powerful negative emotions: Fear that you are losing control over your body and your life. Anger that this is happening. Depression over what you must endure.
For people with cancer, these are all normal feelings. Suppressing them serves only to magnify them and will not help you get better. The way to confront your fears is with education, understanding, faith, positive visualization and relaxation techniques.
Early on, connect with others who have been through the same experience (ask your doctor or hospital about patient support groups).
2. Take Charge.
The leader of your treatment team is you. And the first rule with serious cancer is, get a second opinion. Your current doctor is usually happy to recommend someone, or you can research physicians whom you feel are experts in your cancer.
Take a close friend or relative along to consultations with you. Think in advance of questions you may want to ask, and have your companion take notes for review later (just advise the doctor beforehand). It’s hard to deal with your emotions and absorb complex information at the same time.