Persistence & Perseverance

There are times in life that will try our patience and our fortitude. Trials that beset us, frustrate us and oftentimes force us to change plans or directions and sadly at times, to say there are no options left. If we are lucky (blessed might be a better word), we learn ways to manoeuver around those obstacles and challenges.

Once again today I find myself challenged by social media, when I was informed that my ability to like or comment on people’s posts on threads was restricted. Even creating a post of my own was impossible. When I first rejoined threads in late spring, I had this same issue. I let them know that they had made an error in the little box provided and tried to figure out how to circumvent this restriction. An internet search taught me how I could still post within that restriction, and I remembered how to do that this morning. I persist because it’s what I know how to do, although I didn’t always.

I learned a great lesson about persistence from my older son, who as a child of 4 was determined to make a friend of a boy who lived across the street. Repeated rebuffs didn’t stop him from trying. He would knock on the gate at that house and be told by the other boy to go away, he didn’t want to play. Home he would come, and I’d suggest just playing around the house for a bit and within 5 minutes, off he’d go to that other house, knock on the gate to be sent home once again. I don’t recall how many tries my son made to be admitted into that backyard, but I watched each time, hoping he’d either admit defeat and find peace, or granted entry to what it was he was hoping to find. I think both of us jumped a little with joy when we saw that gate finally open.

Perseverance came to me through cancer treatment. Chemotherapy was a challenge to say the least, but I was blessed in that I was never ill and never missed treatment. The “red devil” (doxorubicin) is so toxic that it is injected into a vein in the hand by the nurse wearing protective gloves. I had 4 of that, one every 3 weeks and other than losing all my hair, no serious side effects. Taxol, after the red devil was finished was a large bottle of nasty that took almost 4 hours to drip. 4 of that once every 3 weeks. Worst side effect - intense bone pain, managed by Tylenol 3 and 2 days of remaining prone or sleeping on the couch. Neuropathy is a major side effect, and again I was blessed that mine was minor, though persists somewhat to this day. It was radiation that taught me true perseverance.

Chemotherapy didn’t upset me the way that radiation did. I needed 30 hits of that, 5 days a week for 6 weeks. The zapping lasted all of 10 minutes. But I almost quit before I even had the first one. Arriving at the Princess Margaret Hospital in Toronto for that (2 choices for radiation in the region at that time - Sunnybrook or PMH and my doctor chose PMH) was anguish. At the hospital where I had chemo, so much else was happening including babies being born. It wasn’t just about cancer. Princess Margaret is all cancer, all the time and it is an incredible facility. The fact that the machines break down all the time, all day long, means that my 4 p.m. appointment was pushed to almost 7 p.m. and as I sat there waiting with dread I nearly bolted, deciding I’d just not do radiation. In near tears, I phoned a friend who was still at her office in the area. She arrived within minutes and sat with me to keep me in that chair until my name was called. If you have a friend like that? Cherish that person. And I figured out that if I made all future appointments for first thing in the morning, the machine hasn’t had a chance to wear out. That meant getting up at an unholy hour to get to the hospital, but I did it for those 6 weeks. And the bonus was having the remainder of the day free for other things.

Being frustrated in my movements by a social media platform pales in comparison to being stopped in my tracks by a life threatening disease. There is no comparison. I can live without social media. But I’ve learned through the gift of experience that there are options and ways around difficulties and obstacles thrown in my path. The possibility to say “I’m done” and move on to something else or the possibility to keep fighting for what I know I can do or what I want. I’m like the gum stuck under a shoe. Once I’m there, I’m hard to get rid of. So, I will persist and persevere with this social media platform until the day I decide there is something better waiting for me elsewhere.

Suspended

Waking in the early hours of this morning to learn that my social media accounts on Instagram and Threads have been “suspended for violation of their terms” was a bit of a shock to say the least. I post very little on Instagram and while I am prolific on Threads, there is nothing I can think of that would prompt a suspension. Perhaps someone doesn’t like my content and reported me. It happens to others — as I’ve said before — why not me.

It reminds me of my childhood. I was very quiet in the elementary years, for various reasons and one of those was because in my home, if you spoke out of turn or spoke up, a reprimand was sure to follow. So my sister and I learned about silence. And staying under the radar. There was a day when I was in grade 2 when two girls in front of me in the line to enter at the bell were talking and laughing. The teacher on duty looked towards us and she wrongly called me out and told me to step out of line to await her reprimand. I admit I was shaking when she did that because I knew she was wrong and then I cried because the two girls who were guilty of this “crime” did not take responsibility. Worse than being wrongly accused I was afraid because I would now be late for school. I didn’t know which offense to be most frightened about. When I pled my case and was taken to my classroom, that lovely woman stood up for me, explaining it would be almost unheard of for me to be talking when I was not supposed to. An apology was issued to me but I never thought well of Mrs. Young afterwards. Imagine I still recall the lasting impression she made on my life, and I can recall how that incident felt all these years later. To this day I do not take kindly to being falsely accused of anything.

I think of all the people who are wrongly or falsely accused of crimes they didn’t commit. Or a faux pas that might land them in difficulty.

I don’t know what I’ve done to have a social media account suspended. I hope that it’s been a clerical error or a glitch in the system. But I know that it’s not the worst thing that has ever happened in my life and I’ll carry on. There are other ways to communicate in this world.

In the meantime, I await the appeal I have filed.

Remembrance

Autumn brings the fall of leaves, and the descent into the darker days and longer nights. A time to look inward, to prepare for the fallow time after the harvest.

Leaves fall. It is the way nature works. The tree has fulfilled its purpose and now must plant seeds for renewal and growth. We are no different. There is a cycle to life that follows its own course although unlike a tree that works through a yearly cycle, we do not know how long that cycle will last.

We spend our lives chasing the dream. Chasing money or fame. Chasing after the material things we believe we need for life to be successful, or worse than that – to be happy. We need to support ourselves; we need to have dreams, we need to have goals but not to the degree that we lose ourselves in those pursuits and forget about relaxation, time spent in nature and most importantly developing and nurturing relationships.

Conduct your life in a way that aligns with how you hope to be remembered.  I have been reading heartfelt tributes for a man whose years on this earth touched many of the young minds that he taught over a lifetime career and each one is a ringing endorsement of his wisdom, his empathy, his intelligence, his character, his sense of humour and his encouragement of their efforts – the possibilities that were in the path of their futures.  They referred to him as “a legend” and he was. They may have been in his classroom for one year. He might have coached or tutored them. But they have all remembered this man fondly as he was and how he connected with them and share a deep sadness that his time on this earth has come to its final curtain.

We have one life. No matter how long or how short it is to be. It is a gift. Unwrap it carefully and then go and spend it wisely.

Listening

We listen with our ears, but can we also listen with our hearts? Are words the only way we communicate with one another? Can we pick up a subtle signal, a change in mood or demeanour and understand what is happening with someone else?

My sister and I were quite different personalities, which is true of all siblings. I was older, she was younger. She looked to me for cues and signals – I had walked the terrain for almost four years before she arrived therefore in her mind I ought to have known where the path was smooth and where to watch for the landmines (sometimes I did not know). Along with that, for the entirety of her life she expected that I, better than anyone else, would understand her emotions – without having to communicate verbally. That is a tremendous responsibility for a child. Much too often, to my regret, I was not equal to the task.

On occasion when she was upset about something and I neglected to ask the reason, indignant accusations of me of being selfish and not caring flew. I would remind my sister that I had talents, but mind reading was not one of them. On other occasions thinking I knew my role, I would ask the cause of the unhappiness. Those occasions would result in shouts to mind my own business. It was a tango we perfected throughout our lives with me never quite managing to keep up with the beat. The rare occasions when we were in tune with one another meant we were hearing the same song.

My sister’s death at a much too early age meant the two of us not experiencing the joy of being able to grow older together, or the possibility that life might have become more of a waltz than a tango. She never knew that I had with time and maturity the chance to perfect my listening. To stop listening just for words, but to realize that listening can happen through the heart. Silence offers the possibility to completely understand the people we love and care about through knowing who they are, not what we expect them to be through our eyes. There are times when words fail to materialize and what remains unspoken is what we are hoping someone else can hear.

As the older sibling, expectation by our parents and to a degree my sister, to be the leader and the teacher did the two of us a disservice. I learned that an older sibling does not have to be a leader in all things. Siblings are meant to walk side by side sharing what each knows to better enrich one another’s lives. I took those lessons my sister taught me, enabling me to be a better parent, with the wisdom and understanding to know and interpret my children’s silences through knowing what makes them so unique, seeing where they might trip and fall, what strengths they possess and where weaknesses require additional time and care.

I never needed to be able to read anyone’s mind. I needed to know how to listen so that I could truly hear. I needed to know how to read a heart. I wish I had been better able to read my sister’s. Hopefully, somehow, she knows that.

Reflex

As October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, I am leading off with this.

As part of my birthday celebrations in late 2004 my friends surprised me with a gift certificate for a local day spa. Surprised as much as I am not really a “spa day” kind of person and they had gone to a great deal of thought and considerable cost to think of an idea that would be something I would never treat myself to. I graciously accepted the gift and then put it away thinking I would get around to using it at some point

Early in the new year I remembered the gift when I came across the birthday card and saw it peeking out. The idea of wasting the money did not sit well so I looked at the brochure that accompanied it to see what I might choose to do when I made an appointment.  A manicure seemed straightforward as I often treated myself to those but what jumped out at me was a session of reflexology.  I can be a little adventurous at times so on a whim decided to take the plunge and discover what that was all about.

The darkness of a winter evening had just set, and candles were glowing in the quietness as I made myself comfortable on the table.  The reflexologist introduced herself to me then covered my body in a warm blanket, leaving just the bottoms of my legs and feet exposed. She then proceeded to explain what she would be doing, how each section of a foot connects to a specific part of the body from the sole of the foot to the top of head. As she worked her way around each foot it would relax the entire body and not to be surprised if at any point during the hour I fell asleep. Naturally, I was tense and decided I would not fall asleep with zero awareness that my attitude was defeating the purpose of the reflexology.

As soft music played in the background, Felicia set to work and talked about each area of the body as she gently massaged my right foot. There was a moment where she took a deep breath and said, “the right side of your chest is really quite angry.” Typical of me, I thought “why is my chest angry with me and what have I done to make it so,” not associating the word angry with inflammation or injury.  She did ask if I’d had an accident, but nothing came to mind. And again, she stressed how angry that area was to her touch.

And while I did not fall asleep, I was most definitely in a very relaxed and drowsy state and remember little of the rest of the hour, but that angry right chest comment stayed with me long afterward.

A month later I had an annual physical and my doctor did a thorough breast exam as part of the process. As I had had a baseline screening done five years before, she noted in my chart that I was due for another so gave me a requisition to book a mammogram. As with the spa gift certificate, I put it away thinking there was time to do that as the physical exam produced no concerns.

Until the day I saw it on my desk and thought I should make the appointment. Off I went to that appointment in the early morning hours of May 4, 2005, and after I left the hospital, these words started flashing in my head “that’s an angry right chest”. Six hours later I received a phone call from the doctor telling me that the radiologist had seen a number of calcifications that he did not like the look of, he needed to run more tests, and an appointment for the following morning had been made for me. I knew in that moment what that “angry right chest” had been telling me. And while I had not had the confirmation or heard the words “you have breast cancer,” I knew it. I call that day the mammogram that saved my life. I came to learn that I had an aggressive 2cm tumour that could not be felt by physical examination, which was growing quickly and already on the move to the lymph nodes. Had I waited any longer than I did I knew the outcome would have been much different.

The body knows when something is off kilter, and it will tell you in whatever way necessary until you pay attention. I called mine the great slap up the side of my head. The key is to listen, to know your body, and to understand that universe has a way of getting messages to you. Call it intuition or a gut instinct. What you do with that knowledge is key to better health and wellbeing as well as in my case, survival.

The possibility of choosing to act or to remain ignorant and not knowing what the message might be is ours to make. No one else can make it for us. In the case of breast cancer, this disease affects women primarily, but men can also develop breast cancer. Know your body and trust your instincts.

Resurrection

Many years ago, post cancer treatment and trying to figure out the path forward into wholeness, I decided to blog my way through that period. It started as a healing journal about where I’d been, what I was learning and hopefully, as a guide to where I was going.

At that point in time, blogging was experiencing a surge in popularity. I found myself part of a community that was about life other than cancer.  While I wrote about cancer, about fear, about recovery, about gratitude and hope, I bonded with artists, writers, photographers and other creatives where expressing myself through creativity became a large part of the healing journey. In the process of my own writing, I was learning new skills not just in an artistic sense but in coping with the hardships and uncertainties of life.  That I developed a large readership surprised me, but it kept me going because I hoped my voice might be one that made a difference for someone else.

And the day came when I stopped blogging.  It wasn’t a conscious decision; it just evolved naturally.  It wasn’t just me – most of the people I became friendly with during that period also stopped.  It was as if there was a community outpouring of togetherness that served its time and the world moved on.

The need to write, to express my views, to share what I know (however little or however much that might be) has resurfaced.  It was dormant, perhaps resting to gain strength, but the urge to express myself the way I have always been able to do best has had a resurrection of sorts.  Blogging may not be having a resurrection but this is the best platform for me at this time in my life.  It feels good.  It feels right.

When I first received the breast cancer diagnosis I would often ask “why me?”.  During the treatment and what I was learning about myself, about life, about everything around me I had an epiphany.  I stopped asking “why me?” and started saying “why not me.” Flipping that thought from negative to positive I believe played a tremendous role in my healing.

To make this blogging resurrection complete, I’ve even gone back to the title of my original blog.  It was where I started all those years ago because it was what I was looking for.  Life isn’t only about what happens to you – it’s about how you choose to look at it.

I still believe that life holds everyday possibilities.