5 Things Chemo Taught Me
My cancer diagnosis back in April of this year was an unexpected gift in many ways. Perhaps most glaring was that it forced me to take a forensic inventory of my life—and how I’d been living it up until that point. It crystalized the things that were and are truly important. It has invited me into more personal integrity—alignment with my deeply held values. It convinced me there was no reason to sweat the small stuff—adulting means we have more responsibility, more to live for, more to lose, and more to let go of when it ceases to serve us.
I’ll never forget the day after I was diagnosed with breast cancer. We attended a friend’s over-the-top gorgeous wedding outside of Nashville. I had no idea what the course of treatment would be at that time. All I held to that day was the certainty that my story had taken a dramatic shift to the tune of that terrifying “c” word.
I savored every single minute that day. I got to dress up (which is my spiritual gift), hugged and kissed my 2-year-old when we dropped him off at my folks house on the way, sipped champagne, and held my husband’s hand tighter than I can ever remember. I even got to slow dance with him. As my cheek pressed up against his crisp suit jacket, I cried hot tears of joy, gratitude, and fear all at once. I’d been given another day and the days of taking this beautiful life for granted passed right then and there. That was another gift I’d been granted: perspective.
From where I sit today, eight months later, the lens I look through isn’t fear, it’s sheer possibility. I’ve undergone a bilateral mastectomy, a brutal recovery, countless doctor visits, smaller procedures, and chemotherapy. I’ve lost my hair completely. I’ve lost the illusion of invincibility. But I’ve gained so much more. I’m pretty sure my heart grew. I know my faith did.
Along the way, especially during chemo, I learned five things that I believe we can apply in the face of any challenge. I want to share those things with you today.
Guard an open mind: Keeping an open mind in the face of adversity is necessary. We will never be able to predict the future and going to the worst-case-scenario is futile as a result. Though oftentimes we slide right into a fight-flight-or-freeze fear response, practicing curiosity is everything as we start to thaw out.
Life is hard—it’s our attitude that makes it a bit easier: At my last oncologist appointment, my doctor told me something that I’ll always be grateful for. She told me that in all her years as an oncologist treating cancer patients of every kind, I was in the top one percent whose chemotherapy experience seemed easy and even inspiring. She attributed that to my positive attitude every step of the way. I’ll tuck that away in my pocket the rest of my days and forever swear by the power of a positive attitude.
Protect your time and energy: It is totally okay and even necessary to pull back from our normal responsibilities during difficult seasons. One way we do this is by setting boundaries around our time and energy. For me, my immunocompromised state required this. However, it was a lesson either way. I learned to let my “no” be as good as my “yes” without guilt. I encourage you to do the same!
Self-care pays off: It’s no accident I started the Practice, my enneagram-based self-care business, the same year I got cancer. It was a lesson in synchronicity. I have been practicing self-care (especially meditation, exercise, therapy, etc. ) religiously for decades. I witnessed first hand how every single time I showed up for myself over the years paid it forward to undergird me in the most physically and emotionally daunting season of my life. Practicing self-care will always serve you when you need it the most.
Let people support you but not always advise you: People are well-meaning. I do believe this. However, each of us has a unique story and process. There’s no one size fits all. Take the advice of others with a grain of salt and as a gesture of support. My chemo experience, (that 1% situation my oncologist observed) was not informed by the stories of other’s experience with cancer. And boy am I glad!
I suppose another gift cancer gave me was a nudge to return to a lost identity—an artist. Life is simply too short to dry up creatively. Writing is my first passion. Self-expression through songwriting and recording is something I stopped pursuing in my mid-thirties. This next year I’m making some changes though. I can’t wait to share some projects with you in January.
Thank you for accompanying me through this incredibly wild ride. I hope and pray your journey unfolds in beautifully unexpected ways…and where there is suffering…I pray God’s grace surrounds you. Life is a constant gift waiting to be unwrapped. Let’s open it up with childlike wonder this season.