Five years ago....

Five years. It has been five years since my cancer diagnosis. Five years of re-imagining my life, redefining and focusing on what is important to me and my family. Because tomorrow is not guaranteed.

Sunday, July 24th is known as my “cancer-versary”. A date my wife finds odd and a bit unnerving to recognize. For me, the date signifies a definable mark. The date of my cancer surgery in 2017 that removed all signs of the disease from my body post chemotherapy. 

This year, the date also signifies five years post diagnosis and NED (no evidence of disease).  For my type of breast cancer, Triple Negative, five years out also represents a clinical milestone in the lowering of the probability of re-occurrence. So, the date symbolizes an end as well as to a beginning for me. An end to a mindless sense of comfort surrounding my good health. I will never again take for granted waking up and feeling well. And a beginning to what I define as important or significant; or perhaps better put, what I left undefined as important and significant. An end to allowing undue stress and pressure to build and an end to an air of invulnerability.

I am scared. I am scared. I live with a past cancer diagnosis and I will always be scared. I have learned to say that out loud and to lean on my family, my friends, and my physicians to hold me up.

I am also present. Present in today. In the now. And now, today, I am healthy. I am happy and I am strong. Learning mindfulness and practicing it every day has been my saving grace. I am aware of when stress is building, and I am intentional about the work required to release it.

Ok, stay with me here….If you have  ever sold a home, you are familiar with the scenario where you are told by your realtor that this needs to be fixed, that needs to be replaced, you need to give the place a fresh coat of paint, etc. Essentially, making the place better before letting it go. Why do we do that? Why are we ok with living in a home that could use a “sprucing up”? Where we know stuff should be better, but we do nothing about it until we are about to sell it, to let it go?

I have an innate desire to serve. I am wired by nature to be a caretaker. I have served my country at the highest levels of government, on Capitol Hill and within the White House. I have stepped up every single time I have been asked.  And this has not always been healthy for me. It has at times
brought imaginable stress and undue pressure. It is what I believe culminated in my cancer.

As a result, I left working full time after my diagnosis, yet I was called back to my career full time - albeit a less stressful version - less than 2 years later. My wife and I uprooted from a place we had called home for 30 years to be closer to my brother and his family because she knew that would be good for me. To start anew.  And why? Because why not? We could. We had the means. But we what we may not have is time.  

We have since purchased a second home in upstate NY to be nearer to her family because it is good for her, and me. I take a daily measure of my stress levels and I work with intentionality to reduce it. I make conscious decisions on what I do and for how long I do it. I am trying at all costs to avoid having to say that “due to my health I need to step away from this”. Instead, I step away now while I can. I take conscious control over my life and how I wish to live it out. I take in every sunrise, every sunset, every rainstorm. With awe and joy. 

And I have hope. Hope that I have a tomorrow. Hope that the tomorrow brings me peace.  

It is everything I wish for you as well.

So, happy “cancer-versary” to me. 

Keep rooting for me. #FuckCancer

 

A Note to My Niece

 Dear Sweet Pea –

Yea I know. I don't know why I call you that. It is just that "Sweet Pea" has been my nick name for you since your birth. I appreciate your allowing "its" existence even into your teens. I am hoping you will always accept it. My mom called me "Mouse". When I would ask her why, she couldn’t explain it either. I stopped asking her once I realized the “why” was not as important as the “how” hearing her call me that made me feel. She was the only person in my life who ever called me "Mouse". Not my brother, my grandparents, not any friends, nor my father ever called me that. This tells me she only used the term when inside our safety cocoon of me and your Daddy. No one else in our family ever used the term. And just a very few people ever heard her say it. And so, whenever I heard her say "Mouse", I lit up inside. I felt loved…special. I hope "Sweet Pea" does the same for you.

This note is written to you during your 16th year, on the day of my 57th birthday, 1 day from the date our country hosts its 4-year presidential inauguration, all of which falls 4 days short of my 4th anniversary of being diagnosed with cancer.  Little did I know that four years ago as I was exiting my 53rd year, I would be entering my second chance to get life right.  A second chance because a cancer diagnosis can bring your life into focus in an instant. What I felt important in my first 52 years fell quickly away to just the core of living. Being mindful of where you are, of what you are experiencing. Walking in the rain and not getting wet. Experiencing cancer allows you to appreciate walking across the street for ice cream on a cold, rainy day. Cancer gave me, at least, a second chance to get it right.

So, on this 4th Anniversary - a day I feared I might not reach - I want to share with you a bit of wisdom I've gleaned during my second chance. 

Your life will be full of joy and heartbreak. It just will. 

In your first 16 years in this universe you have already felt the joy and the promise of life. You are loved, safe, well-fed, and cared for my two amazing dads. You are surrounded by a village of people who love and care about you. Sadly, you have also been witness to the pain, sorrow, and hate of life that a global pandemic, inequality, inequity, disinformation, and radicalization can let escape from under a rock. As they say, democracy is not perfect. In fact, much like life – it’s pretty messy. 

In addition to wanting so badly to live long enough to see democracy turn the page of another inauguration - a course correction of sorts - I have spent considerable time during the last four years of this second chance-life identifying and focusing effort and energy on what on life’s expedition I am able to control – have some influence over - and then homing my skills in the healthy processing and managing those things. you know, I meditate every day. I make it a point to hear the birds, to feel the breeze, to see the flowers. I am hopeful I remain healthy. To be present of mind. To breathe. Learning how to be mindful of the space around me and accepting that space as it presents itself on any given day. 

I have learned that how you move thru the challenges, how you experience disappointment, as well as how you acknowledge and celebrate the triumphs is what is of life's significance.

Believe in the power of being more present with the experience of change - the experience of life. In lieu of immersing into the "what ifs" and "what might happen". Be intentional about your awareness of the here and now, it will help bring into focus what is important. Practice to be more deliberate about what you focus your precious attention on - and what not. This has played a large part in my survival. To carry additional burdens that exist only in your mind, the burden of what might happen, is harmful to you and to those around you. And, in fact rarely changes outcomes.

As you know for the past four years, the url for my blog has been – now cover your eyes – “fuckemboth.com”. One of the “both” obviously being cancer. The other being the basis for the first. I have said to you before, I believe the stress and gut-wrenching heartache I personally felt as a result of the 2016 presidential election, coupled with my inability to manage and process the emotions and physical indicators that that event created in my life, produced a toxic mix within me that rooted itself in cancer.

Now four years later, as I join the nation in marking an official end - by swearing-in an official beginning - there are many emotions and thoughts. The date this nation inaugurates its President every four years, January 20, forever signifies an anniversary of an event I did not know I would live to see again. I am grateful to witness the end to what - due to its beginning - created such an important and horrific life milestone for me. And now - onward! I am marking, in part, my new beginning by unveiling the new url for this blog: www.ISurvivedEmBoth.com  

And so, Sweet Pea, as we both enter our next milestones (your next sixteen years, and my next four years 'til the next presidential inauguration), know this. Life is gonna be really blissful at times and really shitty (excuse me) at times. You may or may not have much control or influence over some of what will come your way. But no matter what life throws at you, I implore you to live it. Every bit of it. Endeavor to recognize the good and the bad. Go get your milestones, celebrate them, and move onward.

Hopefully you never have to go through an experience to earn an extra chance, so live like this is your one chance. Bravely, experience – really FEEL – the experience of what life throws at you, what life offers you, and what you make of life. Be mindful, be intentional, most of all be kind. Life is suppose to be experienced fully, truly, and completely. I plan on being right beside you, for each and every milestone ahead of us. 

Love,

ME

The Power of Blue Sky

 

Those who have followed my cancer journey know that I have a strongly held belief the results of the 2016 presidential election – and my emotional reaction to it – was a contributing factor in my cancer diagnosis just some 30 days following.

And so, on this election day now four years later, as the anxiety and uneasiness builds, I remind myself of how much I’ve changed – not just the fact that I now live with having a cancer diagnosis - but because of it, I’m a stronger person, a more grateful person, and a more hopeful person. A person with a bigger mental toolbox, capable of withstanding life’s heartbreak and despair.

I meditate every morning, every day. I focus on being mindful and in the moment and not take the dark path into the unknown and scary. I remind myself constantly of the “blue sky” theory that tells me no matter how dark the clouds, or how shitty the weather seems, above all that is clear, blue sky. It’s always there. A constant, no matter what. So, focus on the blue sky. Breathe to the blue sky.

But yea, I’m anxious about the 2020 results. I understand the importance of electing leaders who you respect and trust, and who bring dignity to the office. And I realize the consequence of not doing so is devastating. I recognize the power of stress and bad juju on my physical and mental health. And so I’ve tried to consciously put myself in a “self-care bubble” for days leading up to this day. And I’ve pulled out every coping skill that having cancer has given me. May it be enough.

Focus on the blue sky, America. Breathe. Vote. 

 #KeepRooting4Me #Grateful #Hope