Choosing Happiness

Today, March 20, 2015, is the third annual International Day of Happiness, as decreed in a proclamation from the United Nations in 2011.

On the surface, it might sound a little silly or even preposterous, considering the state of the world and the suffering so many people endure in their personal lives.  Wars and partisan violence rage and people experience inexplicable heartbreak every day.   There is injustice, disaffection, poverty and hunger right here, within blocks of my home.  My sister is gravely ill and I have experienced a series of misfortunes over the past decade that are surreal in their number and impact.

But today the United Nations implores us to take action to be happy, with this year’s theme being to achieve happiness by focusing on your connection with others.

I have had to face many challenges in my lifetime.  I discovered early on that you could choose to give in or you could fight.  By nature I am stubborn and I usually choose to fight.  On one hand, this is not a particularly positive trait to have.  It is not easy for me to give in on anything.  It can be very difficult to admit when I am wrong and to say I am sorry.  Being stubborn means you often will stay in a bad situation because you refuse to acknowledge you cannot fix it.  You tend not to make the healthier choice of cutting your losses and moving on.

But on the other hand, being stubborn also means stepping up to a challenge and overcoming obstacles.  It means pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and getting on with it, which I have had to do more times than I can count.  And it means tenaciously holding on to good things, like hope and friendship.  Even though I can’t get out very easily, I work at keeping in touch with my friends, my loved ones.  I am so lucky to still have friends in my life that go back to my earliest childhood.  And I am so blessed to have my wonderful cousin, who has always been there, like a big brother.  And, despite being estranged from some of my beloved children, I will never, ever, ever give up on them or stop loving them, no matter what.  The absolute happiest moments in my life have all involved them.

I have discovered through my stubbornness that you have a choice in life.  You can be happy or you can be miserable.  I have been both.  Happy feels a whole lot better than miserable, despite the fact that it can be harder to maintain.  It is very, very easy to sink under the weight of the terrible things that happen to us.  On the surface, it might seem I don’t have a lot to be happy about.  And it is true, I am only human and I wobble constantly.   But the recommendation for today, connect with others, is the key for me.  My friends, my children, my grandchildren are my lifeline.  Just their voices are enough to lift my spirits.  And they are so good to me.  We all need that.  We human beings need to be kind to each other, to stay connected.  Connection feeds itself, it is like ripples on a pond.

 

If only people could stay connected, on a global level things could be so different.  Even as I type that, I realize it sounds not just naïve, but downright simple-minded.  I know that concept doesn’t take into account mental illness, natural disasters and other things we have no control over that cause great suffering.  But the song is so true, from South Pacific, you have to be taught to hate and fear:

You've got to be taught

To hate and fear,

You've got to be taught

From year to year,

It's got to be drummed

In your dear little ear

You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught to be afraid

Of people whose eyes are oddly made,

And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,

You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late,

Before you are six or seven or eight,

To hate all the people your relatives hate,

You've got to be carefully taught!

(Songwriters: Rogers and Hammerstein/to hear it sung, follow this link here)

  

We are not born hating, we all know that.  So why haven't we been able to fix it in all the thousands of years the human race has existed?  Peace could be possible if we were more connected by understanding, compassion and acceptance.  We are born with the capacity for happiness.  It is others who take it away and it is others who can maintain or restore it.

I pray from the bottom of my heart that all of you reading this have or can find happiness.

I leave you with the prayer from St. Francis, which I believe to be a formula for connection and, ultimately, for happiness:

 

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,

Where there is hatred, let me sow love;

where there is injury, pardon;

where there is doubt, faith;

where there is despair, hope

where there is darkness, light;

where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master,

grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;

to be understood as to understand;

to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;

it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;

and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

Fighting Fear

Went for a routine CT scan last Thursday, routine as far as keeping an eye on the liver tumors, which have mercifully been shrinking.

I tried to put it out of my mind.  I believe if you imagine negative outcomes, they can become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  I hadn’t heard from the doctor by Monday but around 7:30 that night I got a call from the local hospital’s scheduling department saying that my oncologist had ordered a PET scan, which is a more intensive and comprehensive diagnostic test.

It was too late to call her to get details and but the implications were not good, something must have shown on the CT scan. Because I didn’t know what the results had been, I assumed the worst.  I assumed worse than the worst. All my carefully organized positive thinking flew out the window so fast I am surprised the glass didn’t break.  I was a MESS.   I had hours and hours to agonize over what had been found and each hour had me escalating fear and anxiety exponentially. 

  

One of the hardest aspects of not having a significant other is having no one to share the burden, to talk you off the ledge.  It doesn't help having my little dog, because she acts sadder than me when I am upset.  The cat only cares that I sit still and provide her with a comfortable spot to sleep on, so  that is not exactly comforting.  On a certain level, I absolutely do believe God is with me and loves me and symbolically holds me in His arms.  But when push comes to shove, there is nothing like a flesh and blood person sitting in front of you encouraging you to calm down.

As early as I could, I sent my daughter a message asking if she could give me just a little bit of her company.  I hate to ask.  She works nights and has two little ones.  But she was over within minutes, after getting my precious Maddy on the bus for school.  Her quiet, sensible cheerfulness made a difference immediately.  We called the doctor’s office to see if we could get some details, but she was with patients and I had to leave a message.  My daughter had to get going before I got a return call, but her visit had made me feel so much better. 

 

I didn’t hear from the doctor until late that evening!  This was a first where I had been left hanging this way, she is usually incredibly responsive and considerate.

 

It was not the dire news I had envisioned.  But it wasn’t exactly good news either.  There has been some change in the tumors and she wants a clearer picture, hence the PET scan.  She wants to discuss the possibility of Radio Frequency Ablation again.  That procedure had been considered last spring.  But it requires general anesthesia.  Because MS has partially paralyzed my diaphragm, undergoing general anesthesia would result in me being on a ventilator to breathe for me for the rest of my life.

I have been blessed with the most incredible network of loving friends.  But it is hard to stay strong when you are alone at three o’clock in the morning and your mouth is dry with fear and dread.  So it is back to the drawing board.  I have set myself up a regimen of prayer and meditation.  I am focusing on healing and reinforcing confidence in God to ease my fear.  I need tangible bolstering, so I am listening to affirmations, reading affirmations and setting my timer to regularly remind myself to pray and listen.  I am a walking Affirmation.  I am willing myself to eliminate fear from my consciousness.

When my youngest daughter was an adorably sweet and funny nine year old, she regularly drew me pictures to post over my desk at work.  I still have some of my favorites.  One said how much she missed me when I was at work and she wished she could be with me “the hole day”.  lol  Loved that one.  But the one I framed and have truly cherished all these years, even before I got sick, is this one.  It shows a tiny stick figure in a boat on the sea, buffeted by wind, waves and tornadoes.  Two large hands are stretched out over the figure and the words say “God will always protect you!”:

I have it in front of me now, my much needed reminder.  Please Lord, I pray, let me feel your comforting presence around me.

Amen.

Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

From the Deep End

It has been a rough couple of months.  And, as usual, my unhealthy coping mechanism is going to ground.

But writing this blog has been one of the most fun and rewarding things I have ever done and is definitely something I am not giving up on.  I have been jotting down a few ideas for posts and as I feel better I will work them up and get them on line.

I had the surgery to remove the malignant tumor from my breast last week and followed up with my surgeon yesterday.  I cannot say enough good things about her.  The first surgeon I saw had me frantic with fear due to my complicated medical history.  When I met with Dr. C. for a second opinion, her down to earth, direct manner was instantly reassuring.  She was frank about concerns over potential problems, but expressed confidence in managing them.   At the hospital for the surgery, I continued to be just bowled over by her easy going presence.  She was relaxed and cheerful and hands on, no chore was beneath her.  She even helped out pushing my bed to the OR, rather than waiting for the one whose job it was.  You just couldn’t help feeling assured by her all-around niceness.  I actually asked her if she had been a nurse before she was a physician, she was so unassuming, the antithesis of your usual I-Am-God surgeon.   She laughed and ascribed it to her upbringing and OCD.  More reason to love her.  She makes you want to be her best friend.  Or maybe marry her.

Not to be left out, my anesthesiologist was outstanding as well.  His clinical expertise combined with incredible compassion truly helped in easing my considerable fear of the anesthesia, in light of my lung complications.

Anyway, the follow up appointment was a mixed bag.  She got the whole tumor, which turned out to be the size of an egg.  While there were cancer cells in the margins, she believes she got it all out.  That was the good news.  I was surprised and dismayed to learn that after discussing my case at a meeting this week, the team felt chemotherapy could be necessary.  But with all my health problems, I might not be well enough to withstand it.  That was upsetting on both levels.  Then there is the radiation, which is the usual protocol after a lumpectomy.  I was really keeping any thought about the whole process at the back of my mind, it was just too much to take in before the surgery.  But now that it is imminent, the reality of what a trial it will be began to hit home.  Radiation is done five days a week, Monday to Friday, for six and a half weeks.  With my mobility issues, this is going to be tough.  It will be a challenge getting me there, it will be a challenge getting me on the table and it will be a challenge for me to lay on my back for a prolonged period of time.  As with everything else in my life, this will be really complicated.

Then I have the gall bladder issue.  I still have a biliary drain in, a constant source of discomfort and worry about potential infection.  But we dare not attempt the surgery, because God forbid I have complications, it will delay the breast cancer treatment again, as it has been delayed over the past months by all my health crises.

Sigh.

I am working at staying positive.  For one thing, I have a group of incredible, wonderful, loving friends behind me.  I am inundated by cards, phone calls, visits and well-wishing on Facebook. I am humbled by everyone’s faithfulness.   I feel as though I owe it to them to keep upbeat.  If they have confidence in me, who am I to be gloomy?

Did you like what you read? Let others know. Thanks!

On Being Unemployed

I have been out of work for ten months now. It has been an ordeal.

Not working means not having money for things like…paying the bills.

I’ll bet you thought I was going to say something like not having money for going to the movies or buying books or going out to dinner with friends. Well, that is correct. All those things are out as well. Things that were part of my life before. So now I have this idea that I am being punished for having been so shallow and self-indulgent, because I know it was a privilege to have those things that I never gave a second thought to. I irrationally think maybe I’m being penalized for taking my luxuries for granted.

No, more than anything, being unemployed means you cannot pay the bills.

It means you no longer even answer the phone if you don’t recognize the caller ID.

It means when the plumber, the nicest man in the world who has been doing work for you for years, fixes your disgusting outflow pipe you ask him if you can pay him the following week. But then you forget because some new disaster has arisen. And he sheepishly shows up at your back door one day and at first you are confused and think he has stopped by to say hi which would be very odd and then you are horrified to remember you never paid the man and you write a check for $240 even though you don’t have it.

It means eating almond butter for breakfast, lunch and dinner some days. But that is ok, because you like almond butter. It is full of protein and lots of lovely fat.

It means going to the neurologist, feeling so, so sick, and having a GREAT BIG NOTE on your chart that you have to see the billing person before you see the doctor. The billing person, we’ll call her Mean Petty Little Cow, is a 20-something snot with a flat affect and a personality disorder. She treats you as if you have just robbed the Bank of England with a machine gun and taken out 20 people because you have a balance of $115. She sneers (literally, I am not kidding) when you offer to pay half and lectures you on financial responsibility. This despite the fact you spoke to someone else the week before offering to make payments and they said that was fine. And then to add to the humiliation, when you finally are allowed to see the doctor, you can’t stop crying.

It means owing everyone you see money.

It means not being able to pay your mortgage and watching your beloved home slip further and further out of your grasp.

It means holding your breath for so long you almost forget how to breathe.

I’ve sent out hundreds of resumes. And it’s a good resume. I have a Master’s Degree and years of experience. But I have had six interviews in ten months and no offers.

After months of worrying, sleepless nights and enough nervous energy to use up a bazillion calories (although I still stay fat), all of a sudden one day the worrying stops. It could be the decades of therapy. It could be the Cymbalta. But it also could be that I am just incapable of worrying for one more second about something I have absolutely no control over. I am simply worried out.

Just because I am not worrying [as much – I will never completely stop worrying, sheesh] does not mean I don’t care. It mostly means I have stopped bursting into tears in public. I still think about my dire financial state almost all the time.

At physical therapy the other day I was doing leg curls designed to strengthen my legs. My mind was focused, as usual, on my problems. So this was me:

Legs up: Can’t pay the mortgage.
Legs down: What am I going to do?
Legs up: Can’t pay the mortgage.
Legs down: What am I going to do?

It was quite the depressing little rhythm I had going. All the while I am idly looking around the room, watching the other patients, looking out the window, looking at my feet going up and down, when my eyes rested on this:



And I thought, why on earth is there a bottle that says “PRAYER” at physical therapy? Spray prayer? Is it a joke? And then the light bulb came on. The bottle actually said “SPRAYER” but was turned so the “S” wasn’t showing.



So I took it as a sign. This is the action I need to take. There are no easy answers or solutions. Nothing is going to fall into my lap. Therefore, I have been praying more. Not for specific corporeal things, but for support and direction and strength and courage. I think we all need these things the most. Everything else can slip into place with those gifts.

Good thing the bottle didn’t say “TAKE THE GAS PIPE”.