I’m a Weeble

I don’t remember the last time I got really good news from my oncologist. Just when I think things are going well, BOOM, something gets in the way. So far, the only progress that has been made regarding my health has been made by the tumors, which continue to get bigger and have gotten more aggressive recently. Almost every time I have gone to the doctor in the last few months, a bomb has dropped and my spirits drop with it. There have been times when I thought I would never regain my positive outlook on life, or even stop crying for that matter.

In August, I was taken off chemo after just barely starting because it was doing too much damage to my liver and bone marrow. The news was devastating to me – how was I supposed to fight cancer without any treatment? I felt like a soldier without a gun. I usually try to be stoic in the doctor’s office; however, this time, the news was a little more than I could handle. I crumbled – and, once again, I thought there was no way I would be able to crawl out of the depths of my disappointment. But I did. I’ve discovered I’m a Weeble.

People of a certain age remember these egg-shaped character toys that featured the tagline, “Weebles wobble, but they don’t fall down.” There have surely been times during the last two years that I have been parallel to the floor, but somehow I keep returning to an upright position. I’m not sure why this is. It most likely was the way I was raised. My father had a wonderful, positive outlook on life; he expressed his faith through his actions every day.

In a post last year, I talked about denial, optimism, and faith – a combination that I believe are characteristics of Weebles, at least they are for this Weeble. Denial comes in handy when I look in the mirror and don’t see a sick person, and I’m as active as I ever was. A stranger would never know what’s going on inside my body. In fact, I refuse to identify myself as being sick and have banned the word from my friends’ vocabulary, as well. Don’t get me wrong – I am not pretending that I don’t have terminal cancer; however, it doesn’t need to be my main focus in life.

I think that denial helps me be optimistic. I have found that once I absorb the bad news from the doctor’s office, I can pick out a nugget of news that is positive, making the bad news fade into the distance of denial. Yes, I had to have a lung resection, but two of the tumors taken out were the biggest ones at the time. Yes, I have a lot of tumors, but there aren’t any new ones. Yes, the tumors have gotten bigger, but now I’m eligible for a clinical trial. I can hang my hat on those nuggets and be optimistic again, hoping for the best.

Then, of course, there is faith. Once shattered when I found out the cancer has returned, my faith is stronger than ever. For the first time, I intimately understand something my father always said: “I don’t worry because I’ve turned all my troubles over to the Lord. If I’m still worrying, I haven’t truly turned them over.” I don’t know if I’ve quite done that; however, I do know that I have a calmness that I haven’t experienced for a long time.

I hope the Weeble in me continues to do its job – just wobbling, but not falling down.

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Queen of De-Nial

Just call me Cleopatra. While I’m regaining my footing after receiving the recent news of my cancer returning, I’ve decided to hang out with one of my old friends – denial. I’ve always been pretty good at not focusing on negative things because I am, by nature, an optimist. However, I have wondered if sometimes my optimism wasn’t really denial in disguise. In a post last year, I pondered the point at which positive thinking turns into denial. I also wondered if denial is a bad thing if it keeps your attitude positive, or, in my current case, helps my positive attitude return.

Now that I’ve gotten past the awful chore of telling family, friends, and coworkers about my cancer recurrence, the shock I’ve been experiencing the past three weeks is starting to subside, and I’ve decided that denial sounds pretty good to me. Added to this is the fact that I haven’t really been myself since my father died; I have felt like a big piece of me is missing – like I lost my sparkle. That light got even dimmer when I got the news about the cancer. Hell, it pretty much went out. But two weekends ago when my sister was visiting, I found myself laughing a little more and crying a little less. It felt good.

The time between now and the start of chemo may very well be the best I ever feel, and I don’t want to spend that time dwelling on what’s to come. Physically, I feel great, so it’s becoming easier for me to just pretend that life is normal, and, quite frankly, I think that’s OK. There will be lots of time for reality checks in the coming months. My last post was based on the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and I’ll borrow from that classic film again. At one point, Clarence turns to George Bailey and says, “You see, George, you’ve had a wonderful life. Don’t you see what a mistake it would be to throw it away?” Amen, Clarence!

Embracing denial doesn’t mean I plan to avoid talking about what’s happened or pursuing some steps that I need to take, such as looking into getting a second opinion. And I still get sad, often. My mind cannot automatically turn off thoughts of what is to come. However, I  don’t want this yucky situation to be the axis on which my life spins right now. I’m also aware that denial is not just an old friend, but also the first stage of grief, so perhaps going from shock to denial is just a natural progression.

In any case, I want to be able find my spark again; maybe if I get some fresh air, take a deep breath, and allow some oxygen in, it will ignite. As for the cancer, for now I’ll evoke another famous film character, Scarlett O’Hara: “I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day.”

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Hi, God. It’s Me, Ann.

Are you there? Hello? Hellooooo? Of course, I really do know He’s around — somewhere; however, my faith has been shaken to the core the past week. As a result, this post is especially difficult to write. Since I started this blog a year ago, I’ve shared many views on life as I journeyed through a nine-month battle with cancer. I have written a lot about faith, optimism, affirmative prayer, living for today and not worrying about the future, and counting one’s blessings. Just last month, I wrote about looking for the silver lining when life knocks you down – using God’s study guide of faith to pass life’s exams.  However, right now, this “glass half full” gal is seeing the glass half empty.

You see, last week I was told that my cancer has returned and spread to both lungs – an “incurable” condition, according to the doctor. Translation: I’m terminal. The doctor says the average life expectancy for someone in my condition is 18 months. Bummer. I imagine I know what you’re feeling right now as you read these words, especially if you know me. Stunned . . . shocked . . . sick. That’s how I felt. I didn’t expect that news either, and I deeply apologize to the many of you who are finding out about my condition this way. Telling people has been extremely difficult. After the recent losses of my father and brother, I feel like I’ve been kicked while I’m down. How much is one person supposed to take? I feel deflated and defeated.

I truly – deep, deep down truly – thought I had beaten cancer. I thought I was going to be a beacon, the shining success story that could inspire others who might face the type of rare, aggressive cancer I had – correction, have. I didn’t want that for egotistical reasons, but rather so that something good might come of a bad situation. I thought that was the purpose behind my first battle – that God was giving me the gift of words to start this blog and provide encouragement to others, people who were not just experiencing cancer, but also any difficult situation.

The first time I found out I had cancer, I thought, “Why not me? What makes me so special that something that horrible couldn’t happen?” This time, however, I am indulging in the classic “Why me?” question. I thought I had done everything right last time. I maintained my faith – in fact, it got stronger – and I shared it with others. I tried to face my challenge with poise and optimism. So I feel slightly abandoned by God right now. Yes, I know, saying that may be perceived as blasphemous by some. I rather feel like Pinto, Tom Hulce’s character in the classic movie “Animal House,” when his date for the toga party passes out in his bedroom and an angel appears on one shoulder and a devil on the other, resulting in a tug of war to decide what he should do next. My mini angel and devil certainly aren’t uttering the dialogue they had with Pinto, but they’re there nonetheless – arguing acceptance and anger, patience and indignation, faith and doubt.

I’ve always felt like I had a personal relationship with God. My prayers have often taken the form of a conversation. And just like you experience a range of emotions with a close friend, including frustration, so have I expressed, and am expressing, that emotion with Him as well. I’m not going to feel too bad about that, either, for even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, asked God to let death pass Him by and later cried out on the Cross, “My God, why have you forsaken me?”

I can’t begin to fathom why this is happening. As I have said in other posts, I don’t believe God causes bad things. I’m disappointed He didn’t step in to stop this from occurring, though. Once I adjust to this news, I will, hopefully, be like Job, who accepted numerous sorrows without losing faith. Right now, however, I’m more like David, when he entered the cave – afraid and lamenting.

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Optimism, Denial, or Faith?

Ever since I was diagnosed with cancer, people have commented on my “positive attitude.”  Actually, people told me this a lot even before the cancer.  It’s true that I (almost) always try to look at the bright side of things; I strive to find that silver lining to each dark cloud, so I approached cancer like I would anything else in life.  It has made me wonder, however, what positive attitude really is.  I believed my cancer was gone before the tests said so and I believe it won’t return – is that optimism, denial, or faith?

I admit to being a Pollyana.  If you’re not familiar with her, she is the star of a self-titled children’s book about a little girl who always found something good in every circumstance.  Through the years, the name has been given to those who are optimistic, and sometimes it’s used in a negative sense to describe someone who refuses to accept negative situations for what they are, which leads me to denial.  At what point does positive thinking turn into denial, and is denial a bad thing if it keeps your attitude positive?  Whew!  Quite a conundrum!  Then, of course, there is faith – believing in what cannot be seen, letting go and letting God.

I’m definitely am optimist.  I believe people are raised in environments that will determine whether they are an optimist or pessimist.  I was raised in a family that was told to “roll with the punches” and I choose to look at the world in a positive light.  I also believe optimism is something that can be learned if people are open to the possibility.  Recently on Facebook, I’ve seen a “7 Day Positivity Challenge” popping up on my friends’ timelines.  I think that’s wonderful!  I don’t like being around negative people because, quite frankly, they are depressing, which can rub off on those around them.  Just recently, someone told me I shouldn’t consider myself cancer-free because the cancer will always come back, even 20 years later, and will return with a vengeance.  How disconcerting!  I don’t want to hear that, even if there may be scientific evidence to support the claim.  This is a perfect example of cognitive dissonance – hearing something that disagrees with what you believe.  It can literally cause physical stress, and I certainly don’t need that.  Doubt can bring you down.

I do sometimes wonder if my optimism borders on denial.  More often than not during the last 10 months, I did not focus on having cancer, even when looking at a bald head or a big scar.   I’m not sure if that’s denial or simply choosing not to think about negative things.  I do know that I have a strong faith, which has helped me not to worry because I knew God had a plan even if I didn’t know what it was.  I have always trusted that the parachute would open.

So, are optimism, denial, and faith three separate things, or do they intertwine somehow?  They seem like they should be different.  The definitions I came up with are that denial is refusing to acknowledge a negative situation; positive thinking is acknowledging the situation, but focusing on the positive and hoping for the best; and, faith is acknowledging the situation and knowing the best will happen.  That said, I can see myself across the entire spectrum, so maybe they’re not distinctive after all.  Perhaps it doesn’t matter how I categorize it as long as I keep doing it.

“… there is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it” — Eleanor H. Porter, “Pollyana”

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