"Life is the messy bits."
Clare in Letters to Juliet
Live To Your Fullest Amidst the Messy Bits
"Life is the messy bits."
Clare in Letters to Juliet
"Life is the messy bits."
Clare in Letters to Juliet
"Life is the messy bits."
Clare in Letters to Juliet
At DJ's Place, I specialize in helping women craft their most authentic and fulfilling lives, especially during or after a cancer diagnosis. My focus is on supporting women with cancer diagnosis walk through treatment without the need for addictive substances and to fill the days to the brim with meaning and joy.
Hello, and welcome to DJ’s Place of Wellness and the iCANsir blog
How did I get here and why a blog called iCANsir? I was diagnosed in 2016 with Triple Negative Breast Cancer. I completed what I call the “Grand Tour” of treatment; chemotherapy, surgery and radiation. I was extremely blessed with an amazing medical team, supportive loved ones, an encouraging work environment and Divine grace. Given all of this I arrived at my five year mark and formally graduated from my oncologist’s clinic in 2021 . Humbled beyond words by that, I ponder what I can do to help another going through the process. Starting this blog is one small element of hopefully giving back some measure of what I have been given.
And why iCANsir? Because in the face of cancer, there is a lot I CAN do. I struggle with the words survivor, battle and victim. They all sound like they are on the defensive side of life and I want to be on the offensive side. If cancer wants to tangle, I want to be the most formidable opponent I
can be.
The one hiccup I had in treatment process was that I became reliant on the benzodiazepines I had been prescribed for anxiety during treatment. It was a quietly creeping process, and I had a good deal of struggle getting off them. The upside is that as I read more about breast cancer and addiction I saw many similarities between the two in terms of both some commonly identified predisposing factors and in what a person can do to support the body’s ability to recover from both (for clarity I will focus on the cancer side of things, but feel free to substitute “disease” and it fits almost anything). In my world that looks like my nutrition, exercise, spirituality, support system, sleep and a few other things. In other words, I am just more mindful of how I am treating my body…and if that means more bubble baths, I’m all for it!
I have also found that I have a new vocabulary, “language” as it were, post-treatment and not everyone is fluent in that language. I want to build a community where we can all speak that language, and to help others become more familiar and comfortable with that foreign tongue. I will draw heavily in coming weeks from “Anti Cancer Living” by Lorenzo Cohen, PhD and Alison Jefferies, MEd. My overall curiosity in becoming on more intimate and empowered relations with the disease was originally sparked by “Anti Cancer; A New Way of Life” by David Servan-Schrieber. I humbly tiptoe onto the shoulders of giants, many more of whom I will highlight along the way, in sharing what I know and insights I have gleaned. My hope is that this community space will bring at least a bit of comfort, education and sense of agency for those going through treatment and in the new land after. There is a good deal we can do to make our bodies as inhospitable to cancer (dis-ease in general) as possible and to take charge of our lives in the face of upheaval. For me, that has been extremely liberating, comforting and has promoted healing in all areas of my life. The Land of the Big C is an odd territory in which no two people have exactly the same experience or outcome, and there is no crystal ball to help one discern what their journey will look like. Yet in that uniqueness is a strong common thread that unites us.
Again, thank you for joining me! I look forward to meeting others who speak this new language, and for those wishing to learn it. If you have any topics you would particularly like addressed, please let me know. I am very much looking forward to sharing the journey of life with you.
Shout Outs
· Georgianna Lane for the header photograph “Fourteen Trevor Place” (head on over to Etsy to see more of her work)
· Dr. Shagisultinova, “Nova”, for going the extra miles in terms of research and treatments
· Dr. Elise Kolva who helped me find a springboard through Purpose Driven Therapy
· My “Bestie” Tanjia at the breast clinic who made the first point of contact of my expedition so welcoming and comfortable
· Hannah B who walked me through “the valley” to get to a beautiful new land.
· Donna Z who has inspired me to be my best version of me and to live with great courage and to be OK that I am a simple human with all the complexities that entails
· My family, particularly my children, Andrew, Zander and Amanda for their love, support and encouragement
· Brette, My Twin Flame
· CC who has been a cheerleader for me from the beginning, through the darkness, into the light and in whatever comes next.
“Are you ready to not be alone?”
A friend recently uttered this sentence, and it bowled me over. I’m still not sure he realized the power of those words, at least the power they held
for me.
I have found so much comfort, friendship, laughter and love in my recovery communities and in supporting women going through cancer treatment that I can’t always recall with rapid clarity the time when that did not exist for me. It has taken me a long time to be ready to not be alone. It has required vulnerability, honesty, loads of therapy, and no small measure of unconditional love for me to become ready to not be alone.
For decades I THOUGHT it was easier to be an isolated introvert. I believe being an only child enhanced my ability to function in this way. And I thought it was easier for me to hide my fears, insecurities, heartaches, even concerns living in a cocoon. In recovery I was told to go to recovery dances and picnics. Ever fiber in my being recoiled.
And then came the cancer diagnosis. No running from that one! Cold caps didn’t preserve my hair, weekly chemo certainly cut into work hours, daily radiation for over a month was the final tap on my energy reserves. That was one thing I was completely outed on without my permission; nowhere to hide. In hindsight, I am glad I was.
In having to share my diagnosis and continue on in daily life, I was pretty much cornered into deciding how I wanted to define myself, to chart the course of my own life. I wanted to be treated as I normally would be, not as an invalid or someone facing the abyss. I wanted to laugh, to dance, to swing a tennis racquet. And I was blessed with people around me who respected that and allowed me to simply be me. And if I was too tired to answer a call or text, they understood. And that meant the world to me.
After I had completed The Grand Tour, I began supporting other women going through treatment as a “Mentor Angel” through Imerman Angels. To be allowed into that sacred place of a woman’s life, to be honored to share their journey and their fears and joys. An absolutely unbelievable privilege.
Most of my life I have not been ready to not be alone. That did not serve me well and when the time came that that isolation and life’s struggles turned into a personal Armageddon, I didn’t think there was a way back out. I didn’t think there could be redemption, forgiveness, healing. No, I needed to be alone with my struggle and darkness; I didn’t think I could share it. And then the burden of isolation became too much and in that aloneness I almost died. My biggest struggles happened to be with alcohol and cancer. Please feel free to substitute your in their spots and hopefully find relevance here.
I was at a turning point, and a stark one at that. I was either going to have to be vulnerable and let others support me, or cease to exist. I tend to be competitive, so the fact that cancer didn’t kill me got my feistiness up that I wasn’t about to let alcohol take away what cancer hadn’t conquered. Somewhere in there I became ready to not be alone. I let people in my sobriety circles know the real me, unvarnished and raw. And they got it, they had known the same feelings. And they loved me not in spite of it, but because of the authenticity I showed up with. It wasn’t that people had not wanted to in the past, it was that I wasn’t ready to let them in. And letting them in has made all the difference in my life.
Are we ready to not be alone? If you find yourself here, I have a hunch the answer is yes. For me, the engagement in a community is as equally courageous as it is liberating. I am comfortable (for the most part) with who I am, what my boundaries are, and my personal mythology. I am blessed to walk among others who wish healing for those hurting, and to embrace our perfectly imperfect selves. My challenges with dis-ease has made me ready to not be alone. I never saw that coming. Wow, what a blessing!
P.S. I still recoil at the thought of dances and picnics. I have just found other ways of building community in my life that are meaningful for me 😉
One of the most exhausting times for me in the entire process of treatment was when I needed to break the news to the people in my life that I had received a cancer diagnosis and would be going through the treatment Grand Tour. I didn’t broadcast it and told only those I felt needed to know. That said, it was absolutely exhausting to repeat the story, look at faces trying not to look shocked yet clearly shaken, and move forward with all I needed to get done that seemed to be coming at me at warp speed. If you are reading this you probably know the number of scans, blood draws, pre-treatment procedures, ultrasounds and, well, number of photographs that end up being take of your boobs (closest thing I will probably ever feel to being a centerfold) to know what a gauntlet the preparation for treatment is.
In hindsight, the blessing in the exhaustion was that I saw how loved I am. The downside was that it was absolutely draining. And a word from the trenches, at least my trenches, not everyone I thought was trustworthy with my personal information turned out to be so. The most appalling example of this was when a male coworker cornered me as I was trying to enter the ladies’ restroom and regaled me with the story of his longsuffering girlfriend’s struggle with the disease. This conversation (well, actually, a monologue) was wrong on so many levels and I could not imagine how he had found out such intimate details about my health in such a short time. It turns out that one of the people I thought I could trust implicitly was sharing the information with pretty much the entire office.
Then there was the camp of well-meaning co-workers who I believe felt I was far more comfortable with the diagnosis and process than I really was. Long story short, I had named my tumor Mrs. Kravitz (it was based on the character from the Bewitched television show who was nosey, intrusive and almost impossible to get rid of…quite like my cancer). A group of co-workers wanted to put together a surprise party in my honor to bid farewell to Mrs. Kravitz. Was I OK with people knowing what the coming months had in store for me? Yeah, pretty much. Was I comfortable having something akin to a bachelorette party for cancer, not really. Well meaning people, just not the kind of office politics I wanted to navigate at the time.
Oh, yeah, and suddenly the vast majority of people I knew became experts on the subject and suggestions for supportive foods and health products came pouring in from the four corners of the earth. From CBD to pine nuts, the need for natural hair color (mind you, I would soon have no hair) and what post-treatment prophylactic medications I should take (and since I am triple negative there aren’t any available😉). Between the love, support and well-intended pseudo-experts what emotional and brain space I had started to erode pretty quickly.
As treatment went on, I realized that I would not have the energy for the number of updates that even my closest circle of loved ones would want. I have found that this is a similar struggle with a good deal of people in treatment as we want to conserve our energy for the physical demands of the process, and also want to show gratitude for the love that flows in our direction. Unfortunately, there are times when I was almost too tired to respond to my children, let alone people one or two degrees removed from them. My solution was to construct a loosely formed phone tree where people were given carte blanchto share information with others that were in our circle. That way I only needed to share an update with a few people, and the information would disseminate out saving me physical and emotional energy.
All this to say that “breaking the news” can take a toll. I have met enough women who have struggled with a sense of guilt and not feeling “adequate enough” when faced with this new type of exhaustion that I just want to pause and affirm that it is a very normal part of the process. And that it truly is OK, in fact preferable, for us to take care of ourselves physically and emotionally as we face new and unexpected circumstances and challenges. Each phase of treatment had its own unique demands on my body, emotions, and spiritual resources. The communication exhaustion was one that I needed to manage and have boundaries around. It is its own little powder keg when the balance of time, facing the unknown, and having bodies that are going through vast changes all factor into our own personal well-being equation. For me it was one of the first steps in learning to create boundaries that would support me long term and to claim a degree of agency in my treatment and in what I wanted to curate as a meaningful life. Quite the balancing act…quite the liberation!
I have a friend who at one time worked in a hospital as a physical therapist. One day she was interacting with a patient who was dancing to the beat of a tune she could not hear. Eventually she realized he was dancing to the beat of his heart monitor. He was literally dancing to the beat of his own heart! He said he didn’t know what the tune was, but that he really liked it. In love with the sound of your own beating heart. Does it get more magical than that???
Ahh…if we all danced to the wondrous, uninhibited and absolutely unique beat of our own hearts! What is it that your heart is calling you to do? It doesn’t need to be major, expensive, or even social media worthy. Just the quiet whispers of your own heart.
For me, I found the answer one day while I was working with my personal trainer in the gym to strengthen what chemo and surgery and taxed. The overwhelming comfort of being in a gym, missing my childhood gymnast self, the little girl who celebrated the Bicentennial by making Betsy Ross hats and baking an American flag cake complete with blueberry “stars” to strawberry “stripes”, the same one who would get dolled up in her mother’s makeup to chase frogs came flooding back. I missed that carefree and creative person so much that I broke down in tears of gratitude that I had been given a chance to excavate parts of me that I had given up and had been chipped off along the way. And it was that moment when I knew I wanted to thrive, not just survive. I want at least a morsel of something in each and every day I have been blessed with that makes me feel like I am honoring the uniqueness of this soul, the inhabitant of this earth suit. And the path to the threshold between surviving and thriving has taken time.
What lessons were there in the dark days? That we have now, and how much more I do not know. That I can live a meaningful life in the midst of the unknown. That laughter is not just for those not facing challenges in the moment. That the passions of my heart are the essence of me, not luxuries. Ultimately, it looked then as it does now...a lot of laughter, appreciating the small wonders in life, a lot of crocheting, the occasional belly dance class, relearning how to accurately swing a tennis racket, the weekly British Rom-Com and a delightful amount of dark chocolate (moderation in all things). We have the power to pack our lives
to the brim, of what our energy will allow each day, of the things that make us feel alive...and in so doing grant others permission to do the same!
Go...dance to the beat of your heart!
Be careful what you set your heart upon, for it shall surely be yours.
-James Baldwin
I was just on a webinar where someone only recently diagnosed was wondering about what treatments for a possible…possible in the distant future…relapse of the disease should be. People I know call that “future tripping”.
I have spent days and nights in detoxes and treatment centers wracked with fear that I would never get my traction back in sobriety. Not understanding why I was still on the planet and not seeing a way to anything but a life of misery. Yet there were those around me who saw more in me than I could see, and walked with me, holding out the vision of a healthy me that they saw. I could finally glimpse that vision, and am beginning to live it (as in a toddler is beginning to walk – somewhat fledgling). And I can tell you with certainty that when I worry about relapse, that is where I end up. Face down staring at inevitable death.
From the day I was diagnosed with cancer, I could only envision a positive outcome. Perhaps a bit of denial, but that was all I could see. Were there moments of abject exhaustion when I wasn’t sure I could go on with treatment? You bet. Were there days I wept when I wasn’t healthy enough to receive chemo? Absolutely, and I wept bitterly. And the day I sat in the lilac garden in Denver City Park, alone with my God, on my knees sobbing with an ultimatum that if I needed to carry on, I better be given the strength? I still remember that in technicolor.
Whether it be cancer or addiction, or in my case both, or any other of life’s diseases and challenges, I only have the now to live in. And studies show that what we set our minds on we have a strong chance of manifesting. Is that to say if I envision the future life of a goddess that lives to be 102 I will not see a recurrence of disease, or that I will be 102? No. But I am sure going to aim for that. I will certainly miss 100% of the shots I don't take!
In the present moment I am healthy…cancer-free and sober. Is that a flipping miracle? It ABSOLUTELY is. So, I will get out my gratitude journal and see what I can “pack into the stream of life” today. Should something different land on my doorstep tomorrow, there will be time for those thoughts and people here to walk through it with me. But that is for tomorrow, not today.
And how did I get to this place? Divine Grace, a lot of therapy, and realizing that making true connections with others, sharing my common humanity and loads of laughter are where the real meaning of life are for me. And they can all be here, now, if only I keep my focus on here and now. And what a now that can create!
Let’s all set our minds upon the things we wish for and embrace the now we have, living as if the deepest desires of our hearts are there for the taking.
I just know I can’t future trip on the negative, nor do I want to. And I need to keep my mind on today, and only today, or I can land myself in a world of fear over things that never come to pass. Talk about wasted moments! And trust me, I can be really good at doing that if I don’t watch my thoughts.
So, for today, I want to pack loads into the stream of life. The things that fill my heart, hopefully touch others, and that usually includes laughter and flowers. What about you??? What do you want to pack into your day today?
Let’s all set our minds upon the things we wish for and embrace the now we have, living as if the deepest desires of our hearts are there for the taking.
“The fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself.”
Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
(a.k.a. J.K. Rowling’s pen)
Cancer. A word that so many avoid. A word so many fear. So much so, it seems, that when I was diagnosed, I was the only one to speak it. “Tumor”, “It is what we thought it was” and other words and phrases were used to replace that one word. And I came to find out why. When I began sharing my diagnosis with people I was met with many frozen faces, that deer in the headlights look that lets you know you have lost the communication receptor in the other person. Or, really, you have shocked them into looking into the face of their own mortality.
It might be a bit crass, but we all have an expiration date. Most of us prefer to pretend we don’t (and what an unwelcome reminder the pandemic has been that we do). That one single word is so loaded and can mean something different to everyone. And yes, I would say getting an A+ on a biopsy wasn’t the greatest A I have ever earned. There was certainly shock in the aftermath, and something I still am stunned I have experienced. Yet the more I get familiar with it, use it and get to know people who are or have been treated for it, the more comfortable I have become in having it as part of my vocabulary as well as experience.
I have found that understanding the disease has helped me in understanding that although unique in each person it does have common basic behaviors and weaknesses…much like a person who might come into my life; it is a brat, rude, intrusive, unrelenting, combative, brilliant, self-reliant, stubborn and most of all very, very crafty and tends to go absolutely rogue. In fact, if one were to say, “I have been diagnosed with rogue cells” people might just be intrigued rather than stunned. AND (spoiler alert) everyone has potential cancer cells in their body that have the potential to go rogue. Whoa…what? Yep, everyone. It is just a mystery as to whose are triggered and whose are not. There are many things, within the control of a mere mortal like myself, and available for free or at the grocery store, that can give our cells and bodies the best line of defense we can offer. It is this understanding, and these simple things, that have allowed me to become comfortable with the word cancer (you can imagine how much fun I am at a dinner party) and excited about what I can do to make my body an inhospitable host(ess).
Please understand that I do not believe I can cure my own cancer, make 100% certain it never returns, or that doing or not doing certain things caused my cancer. There will never be a defining moment or act that can point to precisely why I had cancer. I do know that I have some control in my life about how I support my body against something that is invisible to the naked eye, silent until there is a real problem and an absolute mystery as to when it might want to rear its stubborn head. There may also be an element of wanting to ignore my own mortality and doing these things make me feel a bit more immortal than I actually am. I also know that in the midst of treatment there were many things I had control of that helped me feel as if I were living MY life when generally it felt like a tidal wave had swept in and I was transported into a new and foreign world. I have learned even more in the post-treatment period that might have made things a bit calmer and more comfortable along the way. I hope that this will bring some readers a measure of comfort and calm that I didn’t realize my body would be so grateful for.
My basic understanding of cancer cells is as follows (as with everything in this blog, please do not take it as medical expertise or advice; that is what oncologists and medical support teams are for! It is simply my layperson’s understanding, and what has helped me comprehend what was happening in my body.)
Cancer cells are cells that have had damage occur to their DNA, their original and healthy selves. It starts with one little cell who now has superpowers. This cell can evade the body’s natural defenses against the proliferation of unhealthy cells. Cells begin to replicate based on this new damaged model and create a cluster of their own. They not only replicate, they become immortal in their existence as they do not follow the natural life cycle of a cell; they never die of their own accord like well-behaved cells do. These cell collectives can independently create networks of blood supplies all their own which provides the nutrition they need to continue their stealth mission. This creates a tumor that will evade eradication without an intervention of some sort. I see it as an independent continent that establishes itself in the body, plants its flag and defends its territory with terrific might. And not only have they created their own continent, sometimes cells break off and sail away into other parts of the body to establish colonies in previously uninhabited regions. These cells, like their original, can lie dormant or can go rogue and create a new continent of their own. My oncologist calls these “sleeper cells”. One of the goals of treatment is to eradicate these satellite cells as well as the main continent.
Talk about the ultimate DIY project! All that going on in my body with neither my knowledge nor permission. Like an episode of an HGTV home show, just without an exciting reveal.
So now I like to think of cancer as ill-behaved cells. As in raising children, I can do my best to coach them towards good behavior, what they decide to do as they mature is more up to them and me. And I much prefer naming cancer to euphemisms that only serve to soft-pedal something that is serious and needs strength to face.
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