It's Over

I recently read that "spinning doesn't make you dizzy...stopping does." How often I watched my 11 year old spin her younger, 2 year old sister around as they laughed at the stumbles they endured while they regained their balance. I'm sure you know that feeling. You go so fast that the continuation of the spinning motion is instinctual. But, when you slow down, you find that gravity gets to you. You bobble, you try to regain your footing and sometimes you might even tumble to the ground. An interesting thing that I learned from watching this routine with my kids is that as they struggle to keep their balance, it is inevitable that they reach out for support, to hold on to something that will help them avoid the possible fall.

This year I feel that I did my share of spinning. It began that very first day when I was told by the radiologist that "they had distinct concerns about my mammogram and ultrasound," my head, as they say, started to spin. The whirlwind of those first two weeks was filled with endless doctor's appointments, tests, scans, results and finally the official diagnosis of Stage 3A breast cancer. The spiral continued throughout chemotherapy, with its poisonous results that broke down my body and sometimes my psyche in order to attack the cellular level of the cancer. The surgery followed and physically changed me forever. It was an event that also tried my threshold for pain. Finally, the cumulative effects of radiation tested my willpower to endure small amounts of irritation that compounded into extreme volumes of physical discomfort. Yes, I have been spinning for almost 11 months.

A couple of weeks ago, I finished my required 7 weeks of daily radiation treatments. After my final round of radiation at Arizona Breast Cancer Specialists I sat in my car and felt a wave of emotion that can only be described as dizziness. Clinically, the war, my fight with cancer...was over. I had crossed the threshold from present to past tense. I didn't expect, however, to feel so unsteadied and a lack of balance on such a momentous day, I don't mean physically, but mentally. I could not believe the treatment was finally over. I guess I felt like I had stopped spinning.

PJ was out of town, so I took my girls for a celebratory dinner. I arrived home to find my sweet Elli had made me a surprise "end of radiation" cake. She had cleaned and gussied up both she and her sister and was ready for our celebration. I told her it felt so strange to know it was over. In fact, once we sat down for our teppanyaki dinner at Benihana, the waitress asked each of the patrons at the table if anyone was there for a celebration of anything. I could not help it but say, "Why YES I AM!" and proceeded to explain the importance of that day. Let me tell you, if I still drank, I would guarantee that I would have received free drinks all night from all those around me who heard the story. Everyone wanted to help us celebrate. Throughout the evening I also received many texts and emails from PJ and so many others with kind words of support. This support was what helped me regain my balance. It was a great night.

Later, after the girls were asleep, I laid in bed and could not help but reflect on this incredible time of my life. I realized there really was no way to adequately describe the dichotomy of cancer. It was a terrible, horrible experience. If the disease did not kill you, there were times that I thought and sometimes hoped that the treatments would. Yet, when I think back, I would not want to give up the encounters that I have had because of cancer for anything. It was hard to believe what I had learned about myself, what I had learned about others and just how much I had learned about life. That night, I reread many of my posts, my journal entries and retraced this road in my head. I giggled a little as I recognized that so much of what I needed to know in life...I learned from having cancer.

I must not have listened in Kindergarten, because according to Robert Fulgrum I should have learned it all then, but I didn't. I liked to consider myself a "late bloomer." It took a whole life of experiences followed by the climax of cancer for me to recognize what I needed to know. A list formed in my head as I thought about the events of the past year. How could I have been so oblivious to the basic lessons of life that cancer taught me?

Cancer gave me the opportunity to learn that...
• Life is not fair, but fair is subjective.
• There is no "hell" in HEALTH.
• No matter how bad you have it, look around because someone else has it worse.
• You better like what's on the inside because all the things you may be confident about on the outside could be gone in a heartbeat.
• Service is a two-way street, you better learn how to give and receive.
• No one survives nor succeeds alone.
• Fear and Faith cannot exist in the same space.
• Survival like success is not an event, it is a process.
• Be careful what you teach your children, because they are learning from you even when you're not looking.

It was last May when I first wrote you as my valued business partner, industry peer, customer and friend. I told you that I loved the power of words. I said that some words defined lives and some words changed lives. I was determined not to be defined by the "C" word. My life was NOT going to be centered on fighting breast cancer; fighting breast cancer was just going to be another facet of my life. I know that cancer got in a few good blows throughout this fight, but I also know that it didn't define me. I can say without question, however, that cancer changed me.

One of the best compliments that I received from a friend early on was that when he heard that I had been diagnosed with cancer, he told me he started to tear up. But then he said he thought about it and really started to feel bad for cancer. He said, "Cancer didn't know who it was dealing with."

I kept this comment with me as a reminder that I was strong. Now, after all that I have learned, I feel that I can relate more to this statement, "You would think after everything you put me through, you think I would despise you. But, in the end I want to thank you, because you have made me that much stronger." (Lyrics of "The Fighter" Who knew Christina Aguilera was so astute! Ha Ha!)

My "spinning" stopped, maybe not forever but for the time being. I have had a chance to get my bearings and gain a little balance. Just as my kids reached out to try to keep them from falling, I reached out to you and the support that I received was overwhelming. Thank you, Don. Thank you for your help this past year, for your phone calls, emails, texts and prayers. I wish I could aptly express my gratitude.

Now I am ready to take 2012 by storm. I am back, eager to move forward and assist you with your success. Please let me know if there is anything that Greg and I can do for you or your clients.

Have a GREAT weekend.
Amy

Courage is looking fear right in the eye and saying, "Get the hell out of my way, I've got things to do." - Author Unknown