Contrasts and Opposites

This morning as I sat at the counter and sipped my coffee, I looked into the sun room and these beautiful spring flowers stopped me. This blooming garden was sent to me by my friends at the College of St. Catherine. The day it arrived, it was a basket of dirt. There was nothing showing and receiving a basket of dirt made me laugh. Now, 3 weeks later it is an incredibly beautiful assortment of blooming spring flowers...tulips, daffodils, hyacinth and iris. All of my favorites and it is as fragrant as it is beautiful (Thank you again my friends!). As I admired it, I was struck by the contrasts it has created. First, it was nothing more than an basket of dirt. Now it is a basket of beauty. Secondly, it creates a stark contrast with the view beyond the windows. It is on the table in our sun room which is open again now that the temperature is above zero. Beyond the beauty of these spring blooms lies acres of white and in front of a door, a snow drift about 36" tall. What a contrast to the view in the sun room. Even Olivia decided to stop and enjoy the fragrance of these blooms.

The contrast between the inside and the outside of this room made me start thinking about all of the ways in which contrasts and opposites present in our lives. I then started thinking about hearing my cancer diagnosis for the first time...somehow this always gets back to cancer! What a contrast these words created in my life. At one year (to the day) after my weight loss surgery, I was thinking about the improvements in my life. I was 90# lighter with a cholesterol of 155. I didn't ache anywhere even after skiing in the mountains all day or stopping 39 shots on goal. I could shop where I wanted to and buy what caught my eye and was pretty. I felt more attractive than I ever remember feeling. And then suddenly, the words on the other end of the phone changed all of that. While that tangible things were still true (my cholesterol is still 155...or maybe 160 now that the Girl Scout cookies have arrived) but the other things may not be so true any longer. I have now gone through a tremendously disfiguring surgery with the loss of parts of my body. So many questions are now running through my head...what will chemo bring? What about my future beyond chemo? While my partner still love me and want to continue to have a life with me? Where will I fall out in the statistics of breast cancer...the lucky 94% who live cancer free 10 years out or the not so lucky minority.

I think more of this is in my control that we imagine. Cancer sucks. That will always be a reality but there are a couple of ways I can view this disease. I can take the news in and lie with it in a sobbing ball in the dark. I can embrace it, tune out those around me who love me and allow this potentially terminal illness to become who I am now. Or, I can challenge it. I can learn all that I can. I can surround myself with light and information and healthcare providers who are my allies in this battle. I can choose to fight.

I am an obituary reader. It started after my Dad died and so many people learned of his death through the newspaper. I read them because I want to know if someone I know needs to know that I am thinking about them. I am particularly drawn to those obituaries of young people~you know, like my age. I read them searching for the cause of their death. Often, it is cancer. Frequently in these obits are the words "courageous" or "brave" associated with their battle of the disease. Before I knew I had cancer myself, I couldn't imagine how someone could face such a horrible disease in a courageous way. I think I am learning what that means now. I think that is the other side of one's choice with regards to cancer. I can choose to allow it to take my spirit and maybe my life or I can choose to fight it courageously.

I want my obituary, if it is related to cancer to say that I was courageous. I want that to be the true about me and my relationship with this disease. I don't want to be a coward, crying in the dark. Sure. I've had my moments...many of them. But thus far, they are moments. Memories of some of them will stay with me forever, like hearing the news of my cancer while waiting for the oil to be changed in my car or looking at my incisions for the first time.

There is no doubt that cancer is a dark disease. Each of us who is given this diagnosis will react differently to the words. There is no right way to be a woman with cancer. This is an individual as we are. For me, I choose to try to be as courageous as possible. I want to be the opposite of the woman who is crying with despair. I choose to live long.