School Days

As my grandchildren prepare for a new school year, I remember my own school days and the excitement surrounding that first day.

In 1952 those of us starting first grade were truly novices. We didn’t have the advantage of pre-school, Mothers-day-out, or even kindergarten. If we knew our alphabet (and most of us did), it was because our parents taught us – not because they wanted us to get a head start, but because parents were expected to teach us the basics. There were no readiness tests or entrance exams because there were no private schools in our working class town. No one considered holding a child back until he was “ready.” If you turned six before 1953, you started first grade in September of 1952.

No one sent home a list of school supplies. We showed up on the first day with the requisite pencil box, milk money tied in the corner of a hanky, and a sack lunch. There was no dress code. The girls wore dresses; boys wore shorts or pants with shirts tucked in. Everyone wore anklets and some sort of practical oxford. We were neat and clean, faces shining, clothes ironed, and hair combed in honor of the special occasion – the first day of school.

Parents didn’t have anxiety about which teacher we would be assigned. The school only had two first grade teachers and our parents didn’t think they had a choice. My best friend and I were assigned to Miss Korb, a spinster who seemed ancient to me, but was probably no more than forty-five. She was of German descent; I think she may have studied under Hitler. She was mean as a snake and put up with absolutely no nonsense. One day I got a bloody nose in her class but sat at my wooden desk and bled all over my saddle shoes rather than incur her wrath. But Miss Korb got the job done. We all learned to read about Dick, Jane, and Spot.

My grandchildren pose for their “first day” pictures – taken with a digital camera rather than a Brownie. They are weighed down with their monogrammed back-packs filled with 150 dollars’ worth of required supplies. Tennis shoes have replaced the saddle oxfords; designer duds have replaced the pinafores. One thing remains unchanged – the excitement of the children as they enter the hallowed halls of learning.

Cancer and Anger

People dealing with chronic illnesses (and cancer, thankfully, has become a chronic illness for many lucky ones) are often expected to put on a happy face to greet a world oblivious to their problems. Is it possible to maintain a civil attitude and pleasant outlook when you are living with daily pain?

It’s tough to play the “glad game” when your joints are aching, your neuropathy is in full force, or your head is throbbing with another migraine. If, in fact, Pollyanna were to suggest that you look on the bright side, you might want to land a punch in her ever-pleasant puss or mow her down with your motorized walker.

Most of us don’t fall short in putting on a happy face, rather we overdo it and put on a happy face too often. Everyone I know (my husband included) who is living with pain and fatigue, doesn’t complain enough!

Anger is a normal reaction to a situation in which we feel a lack of control. The problem arises when anger is expressed inappropriately or when it is not expressed at all. Anger suppressed becomes depression. “Doctors are just beginning to understand how dangerous internalized anger is. Repressing it, internalizing it, turning it back on ourselves, swallowing it, storing it within us, inhibiting it, burying it, ''eating it,'' "stuffing it," can have catastrophic results for our health.”

How then can we get rid of our pent-up anger and not alienate everyone around us? Here are a few suggestions—not shoulds-- which only add more guilt to the load you’re carrying.

1.Don’t keep your happy face on all day. It’s exhausting. Holding anger in, repressing feelings drains us of energy that we need to cope with everyday activities. Find a safe place to express your feelings without fear of judgment—a support group or a friend you can phone.

2.Set aside a reasonable amount of time each day to vent, complain, cry, or shout from the rooftop. When the time is over, pick yourself up by the bootstraps and move on.

3.If you’re having an especially bad day, indulge yourself without guilt. Stay in bed. Read a book. Sleep.

4.Remember that you have a right to your feelings and a need to express them. Don’t suffer in silence, but be prepared for some negative reactions if your family is used to your “stiff upper lip.”

5.Laugh. Bill Cosby said, “Through humor you can soften some of the worst blows that life delivers. And once you find laughter, no matter how painful your situation might be, you can survive it.” 2 Whether laughter actually plays a role in healing has not been scientifically determined, but few deny its beneficial contribution to well-being. Norman Cousins, a writer, editor and humanitarian was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis, a painful and progressive disease of the connective tissue. “Nothing is less funny than being flat on your back with all the bones in your spine and joints hurting,” he wrote. Convinced of the benefits of laughter, he developed a program of humor therapy—surrounding himself with positive people and a diet of funny movies. “It worked,” he said, “I made the joyous discovery that ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep.”

6.Try Laughter Yoga. This doesn’t mean that you try yoga and the class laughs. Laughter Yoga is a variation of yoga introduced by a physician in India that is now practiced in fifty-three countries. Laughter gives the participants a sense of control over their disease. If your community doesn’t offer this program, try Pilates or regular yoga. Both are stress-relieving and body strengthening.

7.Take control of your thoughts. There are many things beyond your control—your mind is not one of them. In Philippians 4:8 Paul tells us, “Whatever is true, whatever is pure, whatever is lively, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” If this weren’t possible, God wouldn’t expect us do to it. But He made us with the ability to control our thoughts and direct our minds even when we can’t control our bodies. As irritating as Pollyanna might have been, she was onto something.

Once you have given vent your feelings, indulged in some laughter, and focused on the positive, you might find it easier to meet the unrealistic expectations of friends and relatives. If my suggestions don’t work, I recommend knocking Pollyanna to her knobby knees. It may not be an appropriate expression of anger but I guarantee it will be satisfying.

An Oasis on the Cancer Journey

“Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee: because he trusteth in thee” (Isaiah 26:3).

Jim and I are at a place I never expected to be—an oasis in the midst of a long and arduous cancer journey. To quote Jim, “I never thought I would hear the words, ‘cancer free’ in my lifetime."

For the first time in eight years, the giant who has been living in our attic shows no signs of awakening. I’m not sure he’s dead, but he seems to be in a deep coma—hopefully fatal. Of course, we have daily reminders of the damage he has done. Neuropathy, osteo-necrosis, daily injections of Lovenox, Melatonin and Metformin pills—still a small price to pay for extermination of the beast.

While we are enjoying the respite, I have not forgotten what it is like to live in the giant’s presence. Updates from the McRaes and others, remind me how difficult it is to watch, wait, and wonder whether the cancer is gone, or still at work beneath the surface, creating a maelstrom of destruction. The sheer normalcy of days between scans is bittersweet, because we don’t know how many normal days are left.

Is it ever over for those of us who have learned that cancer is a sneaky foe, striking where and when it pleases? Those who have learned that our prayers aren’t always answered the way we would like? We who have observed firsthand how unfair cancer can be? We have seen suffering up close and personal and aren’t eager to sign up for another go-round.

One of the benefits of facing the death of a loved one is learning to appreciate each day for its previously overlooked blessings. And yet, when the specter of death hangs over us, when fear of recurrence surrounds us, the blessings are difficult to see. No matter how great the resolve to live in the moment, I have yet to find someone who can keep the resolution. Fear creeps in, robbing us of what joy we might have.

My advice to those in the throes of a cancer battle: Keep focused on the positive. Denial is sometimes a necessary and useful coping mechanism. Follow Paul’s advice to the Philippians. In the first part of Chapter 4, Paul tells us how to achieve “the peace that passes understanding.” We are to be thankful for all things and take our requests to God. Verse 8, perhaps less quoted, elaborates on how to achieve this peace that is beyond human comprehension—peace in the face of overwhelming fear, like a cancer recurrence.

We must come to God with grateful hearts, lay our requests before him, AND keep our minds on that which is “excellent and praiseworthy.” When Satan pummels us with fearful thoughts and plants seeds of doubt and fear in our minds, we can counter attack by focusing on “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable.”
When I was overcome with fear about upcoming tests, I asked myself, “What is true? What do I know?”

I don’t know that the cancer is back; I don’t know that the cancer will kill Jim; I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

But I do know: God wants the best for me. He has always proved faithful. He is a mighty God, more powerful than any disease. Nothing can separate me from His love.

Remember that our tomorrows have already passed through God’s hands. He waits there for us ready to carry us when we cannot walk. “Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.”

Scanxiety Revisited

I have lost count of the times we have made this trip to Houston over the past eight years. Thirty, maybe? I'm not complaining. in fact, I'm grateful that Jim is alive and able to get here. We have hit every season and most holidays. While it is not a "home away from home," we have established a comfortable routine some of which is enjoyable.

Today we braved the heat and walked to Rice Village for a late lunch and dessert at Ruggles. We topped the afternoon off with 90 minute foray in the second hand book store. The eight books we bought served as hand weights for the trip back to the hotel. If I were trapped alone in a n elevator (one of my fears)I could survive if I had just come from the bookstore. I could probably even endure solitary confinement in enemy territory (another fear) if my captors threw in a book every day or so. I'd prefer something other than political propaganda, but if that's all they offer, I hope it's well written.

I've already finished one of the books, Very Nice Ways to Say very Bad Things: An Unusual Book of Euphemisms. The thesaurus for every writer who has struggled with the right words for a delicate subject. Funny, but I doubt I'll use any of the bawdy alternatives in my upcoming articles.

Also bought: Game Change (an inside look at the 2008 presidential campaigns), Every last One by Anna Quindlen, Somewhere Inside by Laura and Lisa Ling, Backseat Saints by Joshilyn Jackson, and a few books on writing. I hope they are engaging enough to distract me from the real purpose of the trip.

Those of you who read my book will understand when I say that I am holding at Code Yellow.I'd like to think that I've made progress in handling the pre-scan anxiety. More likely I'm in denial--which is exactly where I'd like to stay. Thank you very much. I'm quite comfortable here with my head in the sand. My rational mind is telling me that the cancer has not had time to outsmart the last round of drugs,so we're safe for a while.

I hope the anxiety level will hold through Tuesday when we get results. Unfortunately fear is like grief. We never know when it will overtake us. I just have to keep my mind on what I do know: God is in control and God is good.

Ten things Not to Say to a Caregiver

1. "God never gives you more than you can handle."
If you say this to a caregiver, you are implying she/he should be able to cope with whatever comes his way. God frequently gives us more than we can handle so that we learn to depend on Him.

2. "My dad (mom,friend, uncle) died from this kind of cancer."
Not what the loved one of a cancer patient wants to hear. Don't even mention death to someone in the midst of cancer battle.

3. "Did he smoke?"
Why do you need to know? Will it make you feel better if the patient got his "just desserts." No one deserves lung cancer--or any other kind. Maybe you're hoping to find a cause that exempts you from contracting the disease. Give up. No one is exempt.

4. "How long did they give him?" or "What's the prognosis?

Again, none of your business. Besides no one knows the answer.

5. "You should try alternative medicine. Chemo is a killer."
Trust me. Better minds than yours are developing treatment strategies. Pumpkin seeds might have helped your yeast infection, but cancer requires big guns.

6. "You should go to ________ for treatment."
Don't use the word "should" with a caregiver. If you have personal, positive experience with a reputable physician or treatment center you might pass on names.

7. "God will heal you--if you have enough faith."
Say nothing to add to the already heavy burden of the caregiver. This philosophy implies that the outcome of the cancer is directly proportional to the faith of the patient or his loved ones. Bull feathers!

8. "Everything will be all right."
Are you omniscient? Do you have ESP? A crystal ball? Then don't make predictions. Early in the cancer journey, the only "all right" I could have accepted was complete--and fast--healing.

9. "I know just how you feel."
I doubt it.

10."You just have to have faith."
Where might I get some?

Living on the Edge--Part 2

Life after middle age can be an exciting adventure.
1. Explore your God-given passions. Pour yourself into life with abandon. Sarah Young in one of her devotionals says, “Out on a limb with me [Jesus] is the safest place to be.” Step out on that limb if He is leading you there.
2. Dare to be uncomfortable. Start small. Brushing your teeth with your non-dominant hand opens new pathways in the brain—so I’ve read. Sit in a different spot in church. You won’t die. Ask someone you’d like to know better to lunch. Open yourself to criticism.
3. Try something new. Join a book club. Join the choir. Audition for a play. Put yourself out there. Expand your territory. No one ever died from embarrassment.
4. Explore a hobby. Life is full of so many possibilities. A sport? Scrapbooking? Antiquing? Blogging? Hate sports? Buy a WII.

Don’t let life pass you by while you sit on the sidelines paralyzed by fear of failure.
Take a risk. Buy green bananas.

Living on the Edge

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp -- or what's a heaven for?" Robert Browning.

I am not a particularly adventurous person. I have never wanted to travel to exotic places, eat unfamiliar foods, climb glaciers, or jump out of airplanes. I am not a thrill seeker. I don’t skate on thin ice, ride on bald tires, or swim in the ocean at sunset. I don’t invite catastrophe. Although I respond well in a crisis, I wouldn’t go out of my way to create one.

My idea of living on the edge is eating raw cookie dough (I knew the appeal before Ben and Jerry), riding in the parking lot without a seat belt, or taking cough medicine beyond its expiration date. And once I belonged to a glue sniffing club.

Let me explain that last one. As an only child I had a variety of rather strange pastimes one of which was putting together model airplanes and boats. I had a best friend who was equally imaginative and definitely more adventurous than I. We had no idea in 1956 of the dangers of glue vapors. Sniffing anything--except maybe Vicks Vapor Rub—was a completely foreign idea. We just knew that we liked the smell of model airplane glue. So we formed a club. (We had exclusive clubs for everything in those days.). On rainy afternoons when we were tired of comic books, we would go into her grandfather’s radio room and squeeze small puddles of the stuff onto paper and inhale the fumes. Neither of us suffered any brain damage—well, sometimes I wonder about her.

If we had been warned about the dangers of glue sniffing, I assure you I wouldn’t have sniffed. I’m rule governed—a natural born referee, playing by the rules and expecting everyone else to do the same. My daughter cringes when we line up for a sale at Tuesday Morning, knowing that if someone dares to cut in line, I will glare at them, daring them to make eye contact, so that I can direct them politely, but firmly, to the end of the line.

My mother always said “Let a word to the wise be sufficient.” And I pretty much heeded those words, not wanting to learn anything the hard way. My only rebellion consisted of keeping library books beyond their due date, swimming in the gravel pits when my mother strictly forbade it (I never dove just jumped), and parking on lover’s lane with my boy friend. I figured I could handle the danger in the car, and was willing to risk the dangers outside the car.

I do sound boring, but before you mark me off your list of people you would like to know better, I’d like to say that though I am prudent, I am courageous when called to be. Courage is not lack of fear but acting in spite of fear. Think of all that you failed to accomplish because you were afraid. Winston Churchill said, “Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”

I like to think of myself as a calculated risk taker, willing to step out in faith and risk ridicule, failure, or disappointment to accomplish a worthwhile goal. This behavior gets more difficult as we grow older and more set in our ways. Too often we get in ruts that inhibit our growth and self actualization.

When Jim was diagnosed with cancer we evaluated our lives and decided what was important. What things did we love to do? What did we hate doing? Could we eliminate some of those things that caused us stress and unhappiness to make time for new endeavors? When faced with a terminal illness, you realize how short life is--too short to let fear prevent you from pursuing your dreams.

In my next blog entry, I will tell you how to get out of your rut and make positive changes in your life.