2009 Resolutions

New Year's is a little over 2 weeks away, so I've been thinking about next year and what tweaks and adjustments I want to make.

There's something about turning 50 this year--coupled with being a BRCA-carrying, two-time cancer survivor with a recent MRI exposing a "suspicious spot" on my leg bone--which makes me think seriously about how my days are numbered. I realize that I've not only lived over half my life at this point, but, also, that I can't necessarily count on living a long life since I've battled cancer twice. Yes, I'm aware that none of us knows how long we have, but cancer makes you more aware of this little fact.

So, peering into 2009 and beyond, here's what I want for my life:

ONE. I want every day to matter; every interaction with others to matter. I don't have time to waste. A day to waste. A relationship with another human being to waste. I want every moment to be lived, every connection with another person to bring life and meaning. This means changing my Tasmanian Devil-like behavior in which I buzz through life in a whirlwind of activity.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Take last weekend, for example. On Saturday morning, we had a security system installed. It was supposed to take only a couple of hours, but I happened to ask the young guy installing the system about his family, and as a result, my husband and I ended up doing marriage counseling with the installer for over an hour. It threw us off our schedule for the rest of the day, but he seemed so eager, so desperate, for advice.

After he left, I rushed off to visit with a former coworker, who had almost died this past year from complications from cancer surgery. Instead of my usual Saturday of errands and chores, I simply focused on spending time with her. And, it was time well spent. We reflected on where we've been with cancer and how life is precious--sharing in a way that only people who've been to hell and back can relate.

On Sunday, we baked Christmas cookies with two teenage brothers (yes--teenagers!) because for some odd reason, we are considered cool and hip enough for them to want to hang out with us. Two teenage guys=flour and cookie dough all over the kitchen floor and every utensil used. Yet, despite the mess that had to be cleaned up, I loved the laughter and they loved the attention.

As I reflect on this past weekend, I didn't accomplish a lot in terms of house & yard projects. Yet, I feel like I connected in a powerful way with others. And that makes me think that my life counts. That I can provide love and hope and joy to others, and that's really all I want for my life.

TWO. I want to stop living in fear. In addition to the economic calamity that pervades everyone's life at the moment, I'm scared that cancer will be discovered in me again and my life will be cut short. And, at the same time, I'm sick of worrying

I want to walk into the future with courage...accepting whatever comes my way. Dealing with life's challenges with power, rather than being the helpless victim. I'm tired of being the scared little mouse, scurrying to hide in a hole somewhere. I want to face life head-on. Of course, that doesn't mean that I won't have my meltdowns, pity parties and moments of angst. But after that, I want to get up, dust myself off, and move forward with boldness...tackling what life has in store for me.

THREE. I want to extend grace to others, being more forgiving and patient, more giving and kind--which will be a major challenge, since I'm often gnashing my teeth in frustration with the world in general. But, so many people have forgiven me for my mishaps and offenses, and extended grace and love and kindness when I needed it most...and I realize what a gift that is.

So, these are my goals for 2009 -- to embrace life more fully and powerfully than ever before, knowing that each day counts. To live with purpose and not waste a day with childish attitudes and ridiculous actions.

Other than these goals, the only other thing I want for 2009 is a great dye job. After all, if you're going to have a new boob job, you have to have great hair.

A Gift to Myself

What does a girl do when she's facing a potential crisis involving a dubious spot on her MRI? She gets a face lift.

You heard me. A face lift. But not the kind involving a scalpel...I've played with way too many knives this year. I'm talking about a non-surgical face lift. Yes, there is such a thing.

This procedure uses micro-current technology, which stimulates & energizes cells in your muscles. A "wand" is traced over your face at varying levels of electricity to strengthen and tighten your muscles, giving you a natural lift.

In case you think this is some witch doctor sort of thing, you should know that this technology has been used for years among physical therapists.

Of course, I only trust my friend, Chrissy, owner of About Face Skin Care (www.aboutfaceskin.com), to conduct this procedure since she's a former plastics nurse. Now, she runs a successful skin care business in which the products and services are only available through medical personnel.

It takes a dozen times for you to reap the full benefits of this technology, and I'm not quite half-way. However, I'm already seeing an improvement in my reflection. I figure, if my attitude doesn't improve while I wait for the next MRI, at least my appearance will.

My New Companion

I arrived home this afternoon to find a message waiting for me from the bone cancer specialist who had viewed my MRI.

He said the MRI "wasn't specific for anything, although it would be a good idea for me to come back in 8 weeks for another MRI to evaluate for any changes."

Don't you love doctor-speak? But, after all these years, I've gotten pretty good on deciphering it: They can't say for sure it's not cancer. "Evaluating for any changes in 8weeks" means, "We want to see if that area grows."

However, I have decided not to respond with Fear...Instead, I've moved on to Panic.

It makes sense that the word "panic" derives from the mythological god, Pan, the creepy little creature who roamed the countryside. With horns, cloven feet and a tail (inspiring Christian images of Satan), even his mother ran away at the sight of him.

One description says, "His unseen presence aroused feelings of panic in men passing through the remote, lonely places of the wilds." This captures how I feel right at the moment. I'm in the wilderness with an eerie unseen presence hovering about me.

I decided to not tell my husband about the MRI. Or my parents. I've seen the toll that cancer and my BRCA surgery took on them this year. And, they can't do a thing but stand helplessly by, worrying about someone they love. Why drag them to hell and back if this turns out to be nothing?

So, I worry--rather, I panic--alone.

If you have or have had cancer, you understand this roller coaster ride. Every test has the potential to expose something bad. And with MRI technology, I've been told that often "too much" shows up on film, adding to the confusion. Much of the "extra stuff" is nothing at all. But, then, as we cancer people can attest, the strange thing they see on an x-ray can turn out to be something with a very nasty name.

So, Pan has entered my life for the time being...but I'm not telling my husband. Although I'm sure Pan will expose himself one way or another in the next 8 weeks as I wait for the second MRI.

Sizing Up the Situation

I've had so much plastic surgery at this point that when I die, I won't be buried or cremated. I'll be recycled.

This was my thought after meeting with my reconstruction surgeon, who felt like my breasts needed to be a tad bigger...just a tad. He said it would look better for my tall frame. But, he left the decision up to me...which is good since I'm the one buying the lingerie.

Of course, my husband, Gary, was no help. He agreed with the surgeon, and described his preference by cupping his hands in front of him at arms' length. Funny.

But, he also said the choice was up to me. Thank you. (I'd like to point out, by the way, that my female friends say my breasts are a normal size...but, that's what I get when I have two men weighing in this matter.)

So, I choose small (excuse me, normal) because I've known too many women who have chosen breast reduction and feeling "free" for the first time in their lives. Well, I'm feel free now...why be encumbered?

My surgeon advised me to think about it over the next couple of months...since I might change my mind. Okay. But, I wouldn't bet on it.

Putting Myself Together Again

Now that I'm five months out from two massive surgeries involving lots of moving parts, I'm feeling the after-effects these days. Somehow I went into surgery fairly young (okay, middle-aged) and came out of OR 30 years later.

I'm sore, stiff and achey all over. If you're a Baby Boomer, you might remember the Samsonite commercial from years ago. It showed a gorilla throwing around a piece of Samsonite luggage in his cage, demonstrating that it was impossible to break open. I suspect that's what the surgeons did to me. I think they also beat me with a wrench...kind of like I've seen mechanics do when they're peering under the hood of a car. At least it feels that way.

And, with all the slicing and dicing of my muscles, my posture now resembles one of the early stages of man you see on the evolution chart.

Then, there's my fragile emotions. I thought I was handling everything just fine --facing the fact that I'm a BRCA gene carrier, undergoing the knife, discovering I had fallopian tube cancer growing inside me. My emotions have been pretty even keel. That is, until something goes awry.

For example, a couple of weeks ago, I received a call at work from a friend's father. She had not shown up for her flight, which had left over 2 hours earlier. She didn't answer her cell phone and no one could reach her. This was highly unlike her, especially since she was speaking at a major conference. I'll skip all the details, but her parent's concern became my panic, as I spent the following hour trying to track down every place she could be. The only thought that came to me during that time was that she was in a wreck on the side of the road, and I'd be going to her funeral that weekend.

Her father called two hours later, saying she had been booked on an earlier flight than expected and was all right. I hung up the phone. And burst out crying.

I react like that whenever anything out-of-the-norm happens--I envision death and destruction and devastation. In other words, I'm not the way I used to be. Physically, or emotionally. So, this is my time to put the pieces of my life back together. That's what you do after surgery.

Physically, I'm doing water aerobics classes and pilades to stretch my body. I'm taking Vitamins B, C & D. I drink cod liver oil each morning. My diet and lifestyle habits have always been Jack LaLanne-approved, but I've stepped it up. I'm paying even more attention to nutrition, as I now consume mostly dried beans, nuts, seeds, grains, vegetables and fruit, and minimize meat & dairy. I eat as much fish as Flipper, and try to buy organic and fresh food whenever I can. I exam each package label like Sherlock Holmes, looking for the dual villains of hydrogenated soybean oil and high fructose corn syrup. And, I continue to drink the same amount of water that travels over Niagra Falls daily.

As for my nerves, I'm spending time processing my thoughts with friends, taking long walks in nature, journaling, connecting to others, praying. I know it will take time for me to reclaim my former life in which my body moves more freely and my mind responds in a calm and collected manner.

But, then again, that may be expecting too much. After all, as a poster child for type-A personality, I've never responded in a calm and collected manner my entire life.

The Waiting Game

Some people have created masterpieces in the same amount of time I've spent in doctors' waiting rooms. I'm sure I could have written a best-seller if I had spent that time at the computer rather than in the waiting room.

But, here I sit once again. For 2 hours. I even made a 7:30 AM appointment. You would think that would get me into an exam room fairly quickly. Instead, I watched an entire waiting room full of patients -- and I'm sure a few people from off the street -- get called into exam rooms before me. So, I sit...and wait.

Cancer treatment is one that requires long waits. You can expect to wait between 1 to 2 hours before seeting a physician or getting a test. I remember the waiting time for radiation was the worst. It averaged 2 to 2 1/2 hours each visit.

So, my advice is to come prepared: bring a book, magazines, journal and/or a friend to talk to. That's what I do. Now, if I just would bring my laptop, then I could pop out a best-seller one of these days.

Fear Is Another 4-letter Word

The Exorcist was the last horror movie I've seen since high school. I decided after watching Linda Blair throw up, scary movies were not for me. After all, life is scary enough without adding make-believe to it.

But, isn't that what we do with fear? We create worst-case scenarios in our minds...and most don't ever come to pass. Yet, we live with these torturous thoughts plaguing us for much of our lives.

These days, especially, you can't get away from bad news--from Wall Street tanking to company layoffs to war in Iraq and terrorism hovering. And then there's cancer. What's a girl to do?

I need an angel to appear and say, "Fear Not!" But, then again, if an angel appeared, I'd freak out.

My fears and worries have worn me out. So, just for today, I'm going to take a deep breath, and put my faith where my angst is, and focus on my life at-hand, rather than all the scary, awful potential things that could happen. Because many scary, awful things have already happened in my life, and I have survived.

The reason I have endured many scary, awful things is because they are real -- and humans are designed to handle reality. Fear is not reality. It's a possibility that may never happen. And humans weren't designed to live with "what if?" but rather "what is."

I need to live with what is real and true. And what's true for today is that I'm alive and life is good for millions of reasons. That's what I need to focus on -- being grateful for all that I have been given, rather than worry about what might be. Because choosing worry over gratitude is a waste of life.