healing – Page 2 – braintumorlife

We are all terminal

Bob has been on my mind more recently. Ok, ok, I know, he’s kinda always ON my mind…

I made my next follow-up MRI appointment and follow up with the neurosurgeon for the end of this month. Somehow, just making those calls is enough to spark fear and uncertainty back up to the surface. Most likely, the report will be the same as the 3 month follow up, no growth. The two most common types of brain stem tumors in adults are a Grade 1 (very slow growing, as close to benign as you could hope for) Polycytic Astrocytoma; or the extremely aggressive Glioblastoma. Since it showed no growth in 3 months, that pretty much rules out the Glioblastoma. And yet… having been told that brain-stem tumors are never considered “benign” and eventually will grow, I’m kinda nervous.

I heard a cool story this morning from a friend which brought me a lot of peace. My friend worked with a man who was always cheerful, smiling, and making people feel good wherever he went. My friend found out this man had terminal cancer and was undergoing regular chemotherapy treatments. My friend asked him how he managed to be so happy and spread so much joy under those circumstances. The man quoted Romans 12:2 from the bible, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is – his good, pleasing, and perfect will.” I forget the rest of the story, actually, but that was enough for me.

We are all terminal. My official diagnosis does not state that I have a terminal illness, and I’m sure many of you have not been diagnosed with a terminal illness. But as we live, we are all terminal. We may not know when or by what means we will die, but we most certainly will die. A few months ago, a dear friend asked me what I want my legacy to be. How would I want to be remembered after I die. The story I heard this morning reminded me of that conversation, and of my answer. I want to be someone who delivers a message of hope and joy under all of life’s circumstances. I would like to share my experience, strength, and hope with others and be a light of love and joy. I have not been making that conscious choice on a daily basis lately. Instead I have been conforming to the pattern of this world. I have been conjuring up anxiety about my future and focusing on what I perceive as missing from my life.

Some Christian friends have told me that they find comfort in knowing that after death, they will be in the kingdom of heaven for eternity. It’s not death that I fear or struggle with, it is the living day to day that I struggle with, that I am anxious of. It is in living day to day that I worry about paying the bills, eating enough and the right kind of food, performing well at work, and wondering if I will ever find lasting love. Then sprinkle some brain tumor on top. It’s like Miracle-Gro for anxiety.

So, yeah, sign me up for some of that transformation by the renewing of my mind, please. My attitude and outlook need some refreshing and uplifting; only then can I hope to be refreshing and uplifting to others as I so desire.

Thank you for reading… more will be revealed.

Dawn

Deciding to live

It just occurred to me a few minutes ago, after returning home from walking Saffie, that I had decided to live as though I’m living again. I wanted you to be the first to know!

I don’t understand what happened to me just over a month ago. When I received the follow-up call from the neurosurgeon’s nurse that my MRI showed no tumor growth, the best possible outcome that I could dare hope for, I spiraled down into melancholy and despair. Some unseen balloon inside me was popped and my faith and hope leaked out.

I stopped researching, stopped writing, stopped reading other brain-tumor patients’ blogs. I ran out of energy to care. I had given up on living, and was just existing.

It did not help that I couldn’t sleep. I was physically exhausted since I had been doing the most labor-intensive work than I had done in 20 years, cleaning animal kennels 40 hours/week. However, the anxious little hamsters in my head ran around on their wheel all night long, assaulting me with “what ifs” and “why bothers”.

Last week, I finally gave myself permission to not criticize myself for wanting to do nothing except sit on the couch and eat my non-dairy ice cream and binge-watch a TV series every night after work. I finally let myself off the hook for no longer giving a shit, for not doing the things on my list, for letting my dishes pile up in the sink, for having no plans for a secure future. I let myself off the hook for not meditating enough, for not eating healthy enough, for not trying medical marijuana, for not visualizing the tumor shrinking, for not praying enough or the right way, for not having faith that I’m going to be healthy, and for feeling anxious and depressed after hearing that this fucking tumor did not grow.

So what shifted? Did I finally sleep enough? Finally watch enough streaming TV? Spend enough hours scrolling through Facebook instead of meditating? Did all of that not giving a shit finally force me to let go of my insane desire to control what’s going on in my head?

I really don’t know. Yesterday after work, instead of coming home and binge-watching tv while binge-eating ice cream, I took my dog hiking in the mountains. Today, instead of napping, I hung out with a friend I haven’t seen in a month, and spent a couple hours studying for a course I started a year and a half ago. Then it quietly occurred to me, a few minutes before writing my first post in over a month, that I feel like I’m ready to live again instead of just existing in fear of this thing in my head growing.

It’s nice to be back. I’ve missed me. 🙂

Thanks for reading… more will be revealed!

Dawn

When life hands you lemons… Compost.

I woke up feeling defeated this morning. A little downward spiral began yesterday afternoon actually, after a visit to my work-place where I am on a leave of absence from. I have been in limbo between wanting to go back to work and trying to get hired in a less-stressful department. I was hoping for resolution yesterday, but instead I was told that they would let me know in about two weeks. The un-knowing is very unsettling. As is the being-broke.

My next MRI is in two weeks, which will let us see if Bob is growing. I feel 95-98% certain that Bob is behaving, but I don’t have a crystal ball and cannot assure my supervisors that I am not going to need to take time off for a biopsy and therefore get back to work as a reliable part of the team.

I took my defeated ego to bed for a nap yesterday afternoon, and if I hadn’t made a commitment to myself to go to boxing class in the evening, then meet some lovely friends for dinner, I would not have gotten back up until this morning. Was that me, just yesterday morning, who felt such faith and trust that everything is working out the way it should? Well, F that person, this person had decided to wallow in the shallow mud of self-pity for the rest of the foreseeable future, or at least until boxing class, where I could imagine that I was beating the crap out of Bob with my fists.

I do not like the see-saw of emotions, of faith/non-faith, of gratitude/self-pity, of patience/impatience. This battle of ego and acceptance sucks.

This morning, I woke up on the self-pity side of the bed. I pulled on my sweatpants, t-shirt, and baseball hat (my pre-shower uniform) and leashed my dog to walk to the nearby coffee shop. Since I feel like crap and can’t go to work, I may as well sit outside and study.

Walking past an alley just a block from my house, I saw a barrel-composter with a “Free” sign taped to it. I dragged my confused dog back home, drove my Element back, wrestled the thing up onto the back gate, and drove it home, with all the excitement of a child on Christmas morning.

My roommate was in the kitchen making breakfast as I burst inside with my new and improved attitude exclaiming, “I found a free composter!” I am glad to tell you that she seemed as pleased about this as I was. I told her about how my mood and attitude had been until seeing this gem, and she said, “keep calm and compost.” Yes, that! I think we’ll have some t-shirts made.

More will be revealed…

Love, Dawn

Boxing with Bob

Have you noticed that when people survive life-threatening (perceived or real) situations, they suddenly start running marathons or climbing mountains? I have always been curious about that, whenever coming across an inspirational story about a survivor of some disaster who went on to achieve an awesome physical feat. Me, not so athletic. Hate the gym, running makes my knees hurt, I find cycling boring (shhh, don’t tell or I’ll get kicked out of Colorado) ain’t nobody got time for that. Aside from “hiking” (really just a stroll in the woods with my dog), I’m basically a slouch, thank you very much.

And then, there was Bob. Ok, it took me seven weeks after the discovery of Bob to find the motivation, but it was there, covered over by mountains of anxiety and the incessant need to sleep through my feelings.

I took my first ever boxing class this evening! I know, I’m amazed at myself too, and I know me better than you do. I felt so intimidated when I walked in, especially having gone alone (well, Bob’s always with me, so I guess I’m never alone.) But I was warmly welcomed and introduced. When asked about any medical conditions I laughed and said, “Other than the brain tumor, my left rotator cuff is a little tweaked.” Laughing while mentioning having a brain tumor really throws people.

I feel stronger already. As a friend said later, punching the sh*t out of something is very therapeutic. I’ll definitely be going back for more. Taking action to get stronger in body, mind, and spirit is life-affirming and gives me some sense of helping myself to heal.

Thank you for reading. More will be revealed…

Love & Light,

Dawn