Breast Cancer: Mood Swings, Lifestyle Changes, and Filling the Voids

MOODS:One of my favorite books (and movies) is, “The Shipping News.” The opening line from the movie is, “I’ve been given to the wrong family at birth and somewhere in the world my real people longed for me.” This epitomizes my sister’s view of her life in our family. She coped through convincing herself that she was an orphan.

Not me, I know I was born into our family. Just like the story, our family dynamic can be viewed as depressing, but it's really a tapestry with many layers of drama and comedy. And, although I feel I’ve been robbed of my self-esteem, I know I can gain it back. It’s all fixable – through that connection with my restless spirit I can open up and surface as a woman who understands my own possibilities and strengths.

The setting for the story is Newfoundland – which is a beautiful, fascinating place like no other on earth. It's a harsh environment where it's said you can encounter rain, hail, storm, and snow in a matter of 6-minutes. The locals even joke about the 4 seasons of Newfoundland: Fall, Winter, Misery and Summer.

Emotionally, I’m Newfoundland -- I'm not easy to live with as oft times I'm an emotionally harsh environment! But, I’m learning to embrace my moods and stop apologizing for them – for they are me and I am them!

SCARS:I just finished an article entitled, “Scars Fade,” in Fall 20086issue of Every Woman magazine. Some women view themselves as ‘scarred forever,’ or that ‘their bodies have let them down.’

I view my scars very differently. My scars are a sign of healing, hope, support, and purpose. I feel that I've let my body down! But, each time I view my scars (or, get a twinge of pain), it strengthens my resolve to take better care of myself. The marks on my skin are reminders of my gratitude for the many people who provide healing, hope and support.

Just like the yin-yang tattoo on my left breast, the surgeon-made ones on my right breast remind me that I am an integrated spiritual being of mind-body-spirit. My body cannot betray me and I cannot betray it. My mind cannot betray my body; and, my spirit is not "out there" someplace. As I meditate on this, I become more centered in my life.

Namaste,
Michele

A Glimpse Into My Past

Still in search of "dad's nipple," I attempted to get information from his most recent doctor ... Dr. Tietze (yes, it's pronounced teats!), but the information is too old to retrieve. About dad's doctor's name, this really is a strange mix of coincidence ... my mother's maiden name was Titman, my father had a mastectomy, and his doctor's name was Teitze ... now, I have breast cancer! Hmmmm!

I got a "how are you doing call" from my sister last night. It's always great to hear from her...we laugh together! We ended up talking about memories of our past ... why are some things so difficult to delve into? Why do they make me sad? Perhaps it was the dysfunction of the family or just the thought of how quickly time goes by. Talking with her about it is sometimes better than therapy.

Memories of things that seemed to normal at the time are bizarre in present light. Our parents didn't buy their first house until I was 12, so during the "rental times" we could not have dogs or cats ... but, we had a bird! Buddy Boy -- a little green parakeet.

It's very difficult to walk parakeets, and they're really not too adept to learning "tricks." We, of course, figured we could teach him to talk. I think we taught him to say his name...but mostly he just spit a lot! Not unlike most of our stuff, he was just slightly defective. Sometimes we would let him out to fly around the house, but he suffered with a mild case of diarrhea. Obviously we didn't let him out too often!

His "problem" could have been caused by the trauma induced by my brother and sister when they decided to put him into an empty potato chip bag to see if he could "peck" his way out. I was mortified! At this point, I believe, they sat me in the sink full of dishwater ... threatening that if I told mom and dad I would suffer a far worse fate. Hey, maybe I'm gaining some insight into why I've blocked out many of my past memories!

My Chatty Cathy doll had a speech impediment ... not a stuttering problem, just a slight hair lip. This was probably caused from upon being asked if I wanted her for Christmas I responded with repeated,"would, I! would I!" (resulting in her "hair lip, hair lip!") Sorry, bad joke...not very PC, and not intended to offend anyone.

I was a very imaginative child (oh, let's call it what it was ... I was a strange little kid). Since I couldn't have a real dog, my sister drew a collie onto a piece of cardboard box ... a pretty good likeness to Lassie, I must say! One of my favorite shows! I would run around the house (and, yes, sometimes even to outside) with this 2 dimensional cardboard dog ... one side colored the likeness of a beautiful collie, the other still bearing the printing from the box ... Charmin! But that didn't bother me...this was my dog, my pal, my friend. He was, of course, a fair-weather friend because he tended to disintegrate during periods of rain!

After moving from that phase, I decided on a career in musical theatre...that would be my front porch! I would bellow out tunes from the "HMS Pinafore." I really needed to be watched...why did they even let me out of the house?

I would play one-on-none basketball ... and, would lose every time!

I was a very active child...and for the most part had a fun childhood. Even if I inherited a mutant gene from my father, at least I also inherited his mutant "humor gene!" That's what keeps me going! Thanks, dad! -- By the way, is that "felt?" (one of his many great lines ... he would feel the material on your shirt and ask, "hey, is that felt?).

He would also put a small mirror in his hands and come up to me and ask, "hey, want to see a monkey?" ... then he would open up his hands and ... well, you know the rest!

Shortly after he passed away I was looking around his tool bench and found a small dime store photo-booth picture of me...goofy grin, cat's eye glasses and all! It made me laugh and cry at the same time...he used to tell me he kept it there to "keep away the mice!"

Another thing that keeps me upbeat is listening to Steve Martin cds. I've started playing them in the car...he's always made me laugh. Not only does his humor make me happy, but it takes me back to those times when things seemed so much more simple and carefree!

So, keep smiling and keep laughing...life's too short to be taken seriously!!!

Namaste,
Chele

Pet Therapy

Another "bad Monday." The emotional drain of trying to locate information about my father's surgeries, flashes of excerpts from my pathology report that float through my, worries about treatment options, angst about genetic mutations, recurrence and general panic about what the future has in store for me sent me into a tailspin.

We are blessed to share our house with several cats and dogs...each one a blessing in their own right. As I'm writing this blog, my short-legged, slightly plump black cat, Gus, is sitting on my shoulder. He's my "mantra" cat, with a very loud, soothing purr. I call him my "hat cat" because I usually awake with him sleeping very near my head.

My true caregiver and spiritual guide is Shelby, our 9-year old Golden Retriever. Dr. Jean Houston, renowned scholar, philosopher, and teacher describes the spiritual quality of pets in her book, "Mystical Dogs."

Shelby is very attentive to my emotional needs and sensitive to my crying, but above all else, she keeps me in the moment. Her therapy methods are simple ... she just simply "is." When I pet her she helps me slow down my breathing. When I look into her soulful eyes, she calms down my "chattering mind," and brings me back to the awareness of the now -- no worries about my cancer, treatments, prognosis, finances, work issues, or relationship challenges -- just the experience of interacting with her.

And, her love is unconditional. I once saw a poster that read, "Your dog loves you even when no one else does." Amen!

Namaste,
Chele

Bits and Pieces

MOOD SWINGS AND WAITING:
I've been having a few really bad days lately. Monday was cloudy and I was extremely weepy. Maybe I'm just feeling sorry for myself, or maybe it's that roller coaster ride of emotions during the waiting period. Nearer to my doctor's appointment (Wednesday) my mood changed.

By Wednesday, I was on top of the world. It was just a post-operative check-up that resulted in more waiting. My next appointment, with the oncologist, is September 28. Put up your hands, folks, it's time for the ride to take a dive!

We're still not certain if I'll have chemo or just radiation. To celebrate this possibility, I went out and purchased some hair color and razors!

IN SEARCH OF DAD'S NIPPLE:
I thought that I didn't have a hereditary risk factor, but I may. My father had a breast removed in 1960 (possibly male breast cancer?) and a testicle removed in 1966. (go ahead, giggle here) Of course, there's no one left who knows the specifics of these surgeries ... dad father passed in '93, and mom left this dimension about 3 year's ago.

In talking with my sister (who convinced herself she was an orphan in order to cope with the "family dynamics")didn't remember much either. We decided that, unless dad owed money to a loan-shark and missed a couple of payments, there was probably the possibility of cancer.

During my mother's days of mental clarity, told me the "testicle incident" was my fault. Apparently, I kicked him when I was a toddler. "Feet of Fury," eh? She, of course, spent more time describing the "expensive" hard-soled shoes I was wearing than the medical facts.

Now, let's do some math...I was born in 1956, and supposedly began walking at eight months ... so I'm probably wearing these until I was three...that's 1959. He didn't have surgery for "blunt trauma" until 1966???? Come on, mom, you can do better than that...how much more are you going to blame on me?

YIKES, she told me she didn't want a third child (me), now she's telling me I was responsible for my father losing a testicle? My mother, folks, the Queen of Tact!

Looking into my past is like opening Pandora's Box...

EMOTIONAL KICK TO THE GROIN:
Speaking of "kicks to the groin," I sustained an emotional kick when I read my pathology report. As mentioned previously, I have a crush on my surgeon ... then, I read the section of the path report entitled, "Physical Examination." In this section I'm described as: "Reveals a well developed, well nourished, obese white female appearing her stated age." OH MY GOD! No mention of my sparkling personality and dark, sensuous eyes? Anything besides this very clinical description of me? Maybe just a footnote that, "perhaps I saw her on a off-day!" Does he realize how harsh the lighting is in his examination room? Plus, I'm wearing that stupid gown with a small print pattern. Everyone knows that "larger women" should wear clothes with large designs. That gown also was a light blue...and pastels DO NOT blend with my skin coloring! Is that noted in the path report???? Of course not!!!

Is a path report like my credit history? Can I submit a note of explanation to accompany it???

Namaste,
Chele

Today's Rambilings ---

Yesterday was a bad day ... no particular reason. Yes, it was Monday and a little cloudy, but nothing really happened. And, that's my point ... when "nothing" happens, my mind takes over and starts it journey down that slippery slope of doubt and fear!

It's a new day, and I thank God for it! Here's where the support system is so very important!

My husband, Frank: he's absolutely wonderful! He's not a mushy kind of guy, but has a great sense of reality (at least as it relates to others) and a wicked sense of humor. I know he's suffering in silence because he doesn't want me to become more upset. Thank you, Frank, for being there through all of the ups and downs of our life. We've known each other for 28 years (will be married 23 years on September 22).

My sister, Suzie: She has a very high-stress job, family challenges, and her own health concerns ... but she contacts me regularly and I know she's there for me! Just a note or a call from her makes all the difference in the world! I love you, Suzie!

Our friend, Sam: Sam's wife, Marla, is a breast cancer survivor ... and believe me, her journey through this disease was not easy. He recommended humor..."What you need to do is forget about the what-ifs...they will just drive you crazy...You need to laugh..I'm serious...they say...laughter is the best medicine...and they're right...Marla and I decided early on that we were going to laugh about things...and that's what we did...we laughed throughout the whole chemo experience. It helped a lot and I truly believe that is one big reason Mar is 100% cancer free now!!!!! So, you need to just laugh a lot...forget the what-ifs...please, it's the best medicine there is!!!" You're so right, Sam...that's what I've always relied on...you're message helped bring me back to that reality! God, bless you and Marla!

My friend, Susan: She always sends through email poems and jokes that give me that emotional boost I need, at just the right time! She's part of a group of us who have been friends since junior high, and stay in touch to this day. Thank you, Susan, for your emails...keep 'em coming! Thank you, also, "group" Susan, Kathryn, Cindy and Emma ... that you for your prayers!

My therapist, Mimi: Thank you for helping me to understand myself and understand that, regardless of my past experiences, I'm strong and can meet my challenges.

Today's "Daily OM" message: It's an inspirational message site nurturing body, mind and soul, and today's is one that spoke directly to me...and helps me to understand the root of my suffering ... my own mind!

The "Daily Word" archives: This resource is filled with thousands of positive affirmations and inspirational messages that I rely on "religiously!"

Unityonline.org: It's filled with audio affirmations and provides prayer support ... hundreds of thousands of people holding me in healing consciousness ... I can't even wrap my mind around that!

So, the point of all of this is that I have to force myself to bring my mind back to reality. The Buddhists call what I'm experiencing, "groundlessness," the reality that nothing in life is permanent. And, until we experience this, we cannot understand ourselves and live life without suffering. It doesn't seem logical, but I'm starting to "get it!"

Thank you all, those I've named and the many others that I've not named, for all of your support and prayers. God bless you all!

Namaste,
Chele

Letters From My Father

According to my chart, "Coming under the influences of Pisces, water and religion or spiritual matters are likely to have an untold influence on you."

Today's entry is just a stream of consciousness about things that have happened to me of a spiritual nature. As they occurred I thought nothing of them, but in retrospect, they indicated those "spiritual matters that have an untold influence on me."

My father passed away in November 1993, therefore, I find fall a very sentimental time. He suffered from a stroke and lived in a world beyond words for several months. It was then that I realized that the time had come for a new phase in our relationship and that I could communicate with him without words.

He always gave great hugs, and passed along that passion for hugging to me. He was a tall, lanky man, and when he hugged me I truly felt safe. My father passed away in the early morning hours, alone in his room at the nursing home. I will forever regret that I didn't stay the night with him, but somehow he was hanging on until until we left. That night, during that moment between not really sleeping but not fully awake, I felt one of his comforting hugs one last time.

Since his passing, and during particularly difficult times, he continues to speak to me and reassures me about life and life's outcomes.

My father worked for the United States Post Office as a letter carrier for 30 years, and believed in sending letters! I'm thankful that he passed before e-mail technology, as I he would have embraced it and I would have missed out the connection I have with him through his handwriting. He was old school, always wrote with a fountain pen, and had beautiful handwriting.
Frank and I moved to Wisconsin for a 2-year job transfer stint in 1990. During that time my father faithfully wrote letters to me practically every week ... a note, clippings from the Topeka Capital Journal, church bulletins, and always with a handwritten note.

I didn't realize I'd saved them, but during a particularly challenging (and rainy)period several months ago, I had to move some old boxes in the basement which had been saturated by leaks. In typical fashion, Frank and I argued over the situation and I was ready to chuck them all 'sight-unseen!' Most of these boxes, I thought, had been around forever (from Topeka to Milwaukee; Milwaukee to Lawrence; and Lawrence to Kansas City) without even being opened! In addition, we've accumulated boxes from when Frank's parents passed. I was p*ssed! "We have all of this clutter, and we can't get rid of it because there might be something there in there we'll need!!!!

Going through one particularly saturated box brought tears to my eyes. Near the bottom was a stack of letters tied together with a ribbon ... they were letters from my father! I began to cry at just the site of his graceful handwriting. As I stopped to go through them, I felt the rush of emotion and memories flood over me. That's when I came across the one that stopped my heart!

April 30, 1990: Dear dogs, cats & people: Everyone asks about you guys -- it
really makes church start a little late. Mom won't write because she won't have
anything to say on the phone. Ha! Ha! Santa Fe laid off 52 more employees
(mostly management). Wish all these big employers would need help and couldn't
get any. Take care, you guys, and let the good times roll! Love, Mom & Dad.

Not a particularly insightful letter, but it was the ending that got me! At the time this letter was written, he was going through physical challenges and shortly thereafter he was diagnosed with carotid artery blockage . His stroke resulted from the surgery to eliminate the blockage.

After reading the note, I realized the strength of my father's love for me. He was going through some frightening personal health challenges but could still write to me (without complaining) and leave me with his profound advice, "let the good times roll!"

After I received my breast cancer diagnosis, I was in the basement and became distracted by a box that looked like it was about to topple over. Rather than just moving the box, I decided to go through it, as it was marked, "Michele's Memorabilia." As I pawed through old cards from my 18th birthday, and other miscellaneous stuff, I found a letter from my father. This one was sent in 1980, it was simply a cartoon he thought I'd like. But, on the back of the envelope, was a big red sticker with white reverse type, "HANDLE WITH CARE."

You're right, Dad, I do need handle myself with care. I also know that you're right there with me with those big loving hugs and supportive words to keep me going. While I do expect to see you again, I hope you don't mind that I want to put that off for several more decades! I know you understand and want the same for me, too!

Thank you, Dad, for everything! And, many blessings on your soul!

Namaste,
Chele

My Gift from God -- My Nurse Navigator

Along with friends and family, my nurse navigator, is truly a gift from God!

Hopefully, anyone dealing the breast and other types of cancers are familiar with this term. If not, let me tell you about them (and, mine, in particular).

The "technical" definition is, "The Nurse Navigator provides consistent care to the patient from diagnosis and treatment to recovery. They are knowledgeable about pathology and treatment options and support the physician's decisions and serve as liaison to other specialists in the patients care."

Pretty impressive, eh? Well, there's so much more!

I had no idea what to expect when I first received my diagnosis...I only knew fear. Shortly after my first appointment with my surgeon I received a message from this very cheery person named, Donna, who identified herself as my nurse navigator. I had no idea what this was, but she sounded like a person I wanted to talk with.

Mere words cannot explain how she lifted by spirits, answered questions (sometimes having to answer the same question over and over again), and let me know that we would get through this together!

I love my husband, have a crush on my doctor, but I would be totally lost without Donna! We can talk about everything...including instructions on how I was to "frost my nipple" prior to surgery. And, she's not just a voice on the phone...she's there at the hospital, too.

Just recently we discussed the possibility of my need for chemotherapy and it's effects, especially hair loss. There's nothing we can't talk about, and she has an endless supply of resources to help with any given situation.

Breast cancer is so frightening, the waiting between reports and doctor visits can seem like an eternity, and many of the procedures are not pleasant. But, I'm truly blessed with all of my caregivers...and Donna is at the top of my list!

Namaste,
Chele

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow!

I'm not really sure where to begin...a lot has happened since my last post.

I received the path report from the surgery, a little worse than expected, but still very good (I think). The report showed Stage I, which means it's "real" cancer. Rather than DCIS (which is non-invasive), I have invasive ductal carcinoma, or IDC.

My doctor says I'll probably have to have chemotherapy ... that's been a very difficult fact to accept.

But, of course, I'm in the waiting-period, again! My appointment isn't until next Wednesday, and I'm feverishly searching the Internet for any answers I might find. I know I won't, I only find more frightening or confusing information. I might as well be going to the "psychic hot line!"

I've spent my morning trying on hats and scarves to determine if I'm going to be the lady with the wig, hat, or scarf. Nothing looks good, and it just makes me more depressed.

Will they recommend chemotherapy or not ... if so, I will lose my hair...but what else will it do to me? I'm not prepared for set-backs, I don't want to slow down, and I don't want to get fatigued and depressed.

I awoke from a dream last night, crying and sobbing. Although the dream wasn't about losing my hair, it was very symbolic of loss. I dreamt that Frank had signed on to play baseball for the Texas Rangers and was going to leave without telling me. When I confronted him, under a freeway bridge, he just said that it was something he had to do and needed to do alone. I was just left standing their sobbing...

I'm not a person who knows how to interpret dreams, but according to the Dreams Dictionary: Abandonment symbolizes that I will live a long life, leaving behind an old self...release from old self; Baseball symbolizes future prosperity; Frank (the Husband) symbolizes partnership and commitment; Bridges symbolize overcoming problems/connectedness; and, Crying symbolizes emotional wellness.

WOW...I'm was thinking that it represented the fear of loss and feelings of being alone with this disease. And, not just the worry about losing my hair, but the fear of losing of a part of me and losing control.

Yes, I was down today...and missed out on a beautiful Friday! After interpreting my dream, I'm feeling much better! I think it's time for me to play-in-the-mud and do some pottery. It's my activity that requires concentration and centerness; if not, everything falls apart. That is so very much like my thoughts about my cancer. If I don't concentrate on the now, everything in my life could fall apart. I suppose in that sense, I do have control. It's just understanding what I can and can't control.

Namaste,
Chele

I Have a Crush on My Doctor

Is it because they're working to save my life, or because they've seen me naked?

Or, is it just me?

I've spent the better part of an hour searching the web for anything remotely close to what I've experienced. Failing to find anything, I've concluded that either (1) I'm suffering from an extremely severe emotional problem; or, (2) people aren't forthcoming about their feelings. Actually, I did find ONE -- God bless you, sister!

I truly debated whether or not to publish this post. Against my better judgement, I'm going to do it. But, I must first explain that I'm not a stalker nor a sexual deviant. So, here's my confession:

My good friend, Doug, knows that I usually end up getting a crush on one of my doctors. I'm not talking about my general practitioner, she's great! And, I've never had crushes on my dentist or ophthalmologist...but give me someone who cares for my heart or my breasts, and I'm melted butter!

Several years ago I was diagnosed with mitral valve prolapse which required a couple of cardiac catheterization procedures. I loved my cardiologist...he cared for my heart. Yes, I realize I'm talking about the blood pumping one and not the "feeling heart," like the little red ones with the frilly borders...but, to me, there is no difference. I loved going to see him, but he was too successful, and through the use of medications my condition improved and I no longer have a need to see him.

Along comes my breast cancer diagnosis. Once again, I'm in the midst of a full-blown infatuation for my surgeon! As I went on and on about his compassion and caring to Doug, he simply rolled his eyes and said, "Well, get over yourself, honey, that's his job!"

But he is a wonderful man who takes time to explain things to me, answer my questions thoroughly, and gives advice and recommendations to help me understand my DCIS and it's implications! And, he has very soft hands.

Perhaps it's simply that both of these doctors were interacting with me during very difficult times in my life about potentially life-threatening conditions. Or, perhaps I'm just a horny ole gal who has been married too long and just likes to flirt with them!

I'm in awe of doctors and their ability to heal, nurture and maintain professional integrity. I'd never do anything to compromise my care, as that is my main concern (and, I trust, that of my doctors). It's simply that I'm trying to get a grip on the reality of my breast cancer diagnosis and, at the same time, trying to overcome the emotions associated with the disease. It's possibly a diversion tactic to keep me from thinking about what may happen.

Whatever the reason, I just know that I owe my life to both of these men --- so how can I not feel a special bond with them?

Namaste,
Chele

P.S. I want to share my " Notes from the Universe," that I received today:

"There is no choice you've ever made, nor any you will ever make, that will limit you as much as you may fear. Nor even limit you at all. The Universe"

How cool is that? Thoughts become things... choose the good ones!

A Pause from My Cancer (Menopause, That Is) ... "a walk down mammary lane"

As I mentioned before, I hadn’t had a mammogram since 1999. I've spent the greater part of those 7 years (15 to be exact) working on my "head." I religiously see my shrink and therapist, take my meds for emotional ups and downs, and try to quell my nagging, age-old question, "what's wrong with me?"

I "turned" 50 in 2006 (sounds like spoiled food, doesn't it?). I’ve "gone through" menopause (finished it up about 2 years ago--check that one off the list of major life accomplishments!) And, that's what I'd like to address today.

Webster's online dictionary defines it as follows:
"Menopause Noun 1. The time in a woman's life in which the menstrual cycle ends.

Etymology: Menopause \Men"o*pause\, noun. [Greek expression month to cause to cease. See Menses.]

Do a Google Search for it, and you find 12,400,000 results!

Look through the Wikipedia information and you're ready to off yourself!

However, now that I'm "through it," I narrow my searches to "Post Menopause." I'm happy to report there are only 2,740,000 results from that Google Search!

Here you'll find sites that ballyhoo the "the joys of post-menopause!" According to one site, "No more hot flashes, no more Kotex or Tampax, no more worry about pregnancy ... most women find their voice and have no qualms about raising it!" And, apparently, I'm "entering my second act!" Yikes! I really didn't spend that much time on my first act ... and, are you telling me my life is only a 2-act play? I should have spent more time auditioning for the actors!

Anyway, it goes on to tell me that I can spend more time on myself, go back to school, pick up a paint brush for the first time (obviously not referring to the one I currently use on the house and garage!), or try a musical instrument (like, "one time at band camp?"). Many of the examples site women who have resigned from high-level jobs to open a speciality cafes that sell organic coffee and green tea; others enrolled in a theology school to "satisfy their spiritual quest;" and, still others pack up their husbands and begin treks through Europe!

"Post-menopausal women are not going to be invisible anymore!" Damn, I was really looking forward to that invisibility thing...kind of like Harry Potter's invisibility cloak -- way cool! After reading one of the questions in the FAQ section, "How do I prevent growing facial hear in menopause?," I'm thinking I really want to be invisible!

So, I've been waiting for those wonderful moments of inspiration and insight, the wild abandon of not worrying about getting pregnant (but you still have to have sex to get pregnant, right?), writing my first novel, painting, meditating, practicing yoga and Tai Chi, spending time at an ashram; all-in-all, attaining enlightenment.

Looking back through my life, I realize that most of those highly anticipated “firsts” just didn’t measure up to the hype of the expectation. It seems like only yesterday that I was anticipating my first period. After seeing "the movie" in my 5th grade year and receiving my little book entitled, "Growing up and liking it!" (including the promise on the very first page that, "The fun is just beginning!" -- followed by photo after photo of young women dancing, shopping, cheering at football games, going to proms, chatting with their girlfriends, playing at the beach, playing volleyball....because, the FUN NEVER ENDS when you start your period!), I thought "WOW, lay it on me...I want to start this menstruation thing!"

That was in 1966 -- I didn't start until 1971 (the beginning of my quest to find out, "what's wrong with me?"). Needless to say, my experience didn't quite measure up to the girls in the photos of my "book." I had horrible acne, constant worries that I'd start my period during at school and not realize it ... only to be object of laughter and ridicule as I walked down the hall unaware that I had this huge blood stain on my skirt! I stopped wearing white, and always carried a sweater to wrap around my waist ... just in case!

Because I loved to swim, I battled my mother (and my body) over the use of tampons. Between worrying about my mother's warnings that they would (at the low end of the "Lola Worry Chart") at least cause cancer and above all else "break my hymen," and the fact that I couldn't never get the damned thing in place properly ... I hated my "new little monthly friend!" I felt cheated out of the experiences of life that I enjoyed before "Growing up and liking it!"

And, where were those wonderful breasts I was supposed to start sprouting? I actually stuffed Kleenexes in my bra (removing them from the box, of course). Although this didn't help my figure, it did come in handy during the cold and flu season!

Needless to say, I've not felt that wonderful joy that comes with saying "au revoir" to my menses. I've felt old, dumpy, lumpy and tired. I've put on over 100# since my "first period," experienced watching the painful illnesses and deaths of parents, close relatives and friends. I can't seem to get out of debt and release myself from the constant fear of job and benefit losses. My mother is currently in a nursing home with severe dementia, and I'm struggling with unresolved issues in our relationship. As a result of weight gain, menopause and anti-depressants, sex is a distant memory. To top it all off, I'm a perfectionist and never feel that I'm doing "enough."

But, I’m always the optimist (please don't laugh ... truly, I am!). I've had the good fortune of working with an organization called, "Unity." This non-profit organization is based on affirmative prayer and positive thinking. I've learned so much about "letting go, and letting God." I emphasize "learned," because until my cancer diagnosis, I hadn't really experienced it.

I offer a link to, "The Daily Word," an inspirational word and affirmation for each day. We also have over 80 years of archived affirmations and messages on their website. This has truly been a God-send as I struggled through the waiting and worrying since my diagnosis.

I've also found other sites of great help for information and inspiration (all listed on my blog page). A couple of my new favorites:

For good scientific information checkout The Discovery Channel Health website.

For post-menopausal inspiration, go to the article entitled, "Aging 20-40-60 Rule") on
Shirley MacLaine's website.

So, I've realized that all the worries that I had before my cancer diagnosis really don't amount to that much. When faced with a situation that's outcome I know is totally out of my control, each day I live the practice of "Let Go, and Let God!"

Today is a beautiful late summer day, and I thank God for it, and for everything I experience. I thank God for all of the experiences of my life, because I've learned not to question, "Why me...or what's wrong with me?" -- but, "What am I to learn from this experience?"

It's a much better way to experience life!

Namaste,
Chele