my diagnosis of advanced cancer: how to help my kids

<p>thanks for all the good will :slight_smile: Very much appreciated.</p>

<p>here is an interesting get well message.</p>

<p>An acquaintance sent me a very lovely get well card. So, I called to thank her. </p>

<p>One of the things she said “Oh, you should remain positive. MIRACLES DO HAPPEN”. </p>

<p>She is a very kind and lovely woman, but probably not the deepest thinker
 </p>

<p>I would rather not have my rational optimism grounded on facts and research be trivialized in this manner.</p>

<p>This is precisely why I don’t want to go to cancer support groups. I feel the need to protect my brand of rational optimism and positive outlook from the clich</p>

<p>You are an amazing woman, sunrise! I’ve cried and laughed when reading your posts. You have unbelievable strength. Your sense of humor is something that I believe will continue to help you through this process. Many could learn a lesson from you. I can only hope that, if ever faced with such a thing, I can have half your strength. Thinking of you and wishing you the very best!</p>

<p>If you know any woman currently undergoing Chemo, please pass
the word to her that there is a cleaning service that provides FREE
housecleaning - 1 time per month for 4 months while she is in treatment.</p>

<p>All she has to do is sign up and have her doctor fax a note confirming the treatment. Cleaning for a Reason will have a participating maid service in her zip code area arrange for the service.</p>

<p>[Professional</a> House Cleaning Maid Services for women with cancer](<a href=“http://www.cleaningforareason.org%5DProfessional”>http://www.cleaningforareason.org)</p>

<p>This organization serves the entire USA and currently has 547 partners to help these women. </p>

<p>My family has donated to this org. Hope you are feeling 100% better soon!</p>

<p>thanks for letting me know about this house cleaning service. As for me, we have enough resources to take care of things of this sort, and I would rather have additional resources available to women with fewer resources than I.</p>

<p>I would like to donate to this organization, though. I assume I can follow the link and make it happen.</p>

<p>Again, thanks for letting me know about the opportunity so that I can be of help, however inconsequential it may be, to those who need it.</p>

<p>You are amazing!</p>

<p>“I would rather not have my rational optimism grounded on facts and research be trivialized in this manner.”</p>

<p>Perfect way of putting it! But I agree that it is the thought that counts, and your friend has a good heart. I enjoy this thread tremendously - now that I’ve typed it, it sounds strange, but it’s true. </p>

<p>somemom, I’ve also discovered audiobooks, and I agree that they are wonderful. I can play them on my phone. I download them from the library (5 mins) transfer them to my phone (30 sec) and start listening. I listen while doing boring housework, and while falling asleep.</p>

<p>I have struck a chord (personality and background/interests) with the OP and have been exchanging PM’s. One included a book suggestion some of you may enjoy- especially those with a math/science bent. Attitude makes a lot of difference in recovery- she has a great one. Looking forward to more humor. Also- please note, folks, getting cancer happens to rich and poor- not everyone needs financial help (as long as the Obama health care reforms stay intact). It is so nice she is thinking outside of herself and to those she can help with money.</p>

<p>The book suggestion. Just reading this library book copyrighted in 2010. “The Emperor of All Maladies, (subtitle) A Biography of Cancer” by Siddhartha Mukherjee. Fascinating story of how cancer treatments have evolved over the eons and well written. Gives insights as to how we got to today’s treatments- including nonmedical influences. Have to give my H credit for finding books and keeping them long enough for me to also read them (this was independent of this poster’s situation).</p>

<p>DH and I both read The Emperor of All Maladies. I agree, it’s fascinating.</p>

<p>Sunrise – Laughter (or humor) and love make a pretty powerful combination, and it seems that you’ve got both in spades. Sending good thoughts for you and your family as you continue to push through this.</p>

<p>This is such a wonderful thread, meaningful and uplifting to the OP as well as to many of us who post.</p>

<p>One small request
let’s leave opinions about Obamacare out of our discussion here. There are plenty of threads that allow for that debate on the Cafe. I’m sure we have such different political views here that it would be a shame for that to interfere with what is a very nurturing, supportive, and congenial thread.</p>

<p>Sunrise- have you watched the Big C on Showtime at all? We had free showtime this weekend and I watched the entire thing. It is Laura Linney Dx with stage IV melanoma and mixed in with all the cable TV usual stuff, there were just really interesting provocative points. I could really relate to the part where she was not ready to tell her family because she was choosing no treatment initially and did not want life to change and be about cancer. At the risk of spoiling, she did tell them eventually and that, too was interesting.</p>

<p>As I awaiting surgery with the oncologist and all, I definitely was not ready for life to change, I really did not want to talk to anyone about it as I was not ready to be changed to “cancer patient” That par resonated with me, DH and I had quite a discussion about it, he was offended on the DHs behalf and yet I could totally “get” the wish to delay making it real until it absolutely had to be real. I found, despite any silly stuff, it touched on many thoughts and feelings I had in 2010</p>

<p>In my case, keeping it quiet was simply not an option. An immediate surgery was of paramount importance, and now, how could you possibly sugarcoat a major surgery?</p>

<p>In addition to this, I made a very deliberate choice of letting everybody know about it. My disease is not something that will easily go away. It’s a fair thing to say, the survivor in my situation is someone who learns to manage the disease as well as she can as long as she can. Even after 20+ years of remission, you are not really considered cured given the nature of this type of cancer. It’s part of my life repertoire now, and it’s part of my identity. It sounds depressing, but actually it is not. All I need to do is to stay one step of this disease. Every year I am around is every year outstanding researchers are churning out breakthrough findings. How is it different from those who learn to live with diabetes and chronic heart conditions? </p>

<p>I would rather deal with it upfront, rather than have it consume other aspects of my life. Man up and move on, that’s my style.</p>

<p>Oh, I agree, I was thinking more of the time in between the first inkling and the actual surgery. No big deal, it was just a provocative show in starting conversations between several of us IRL who had dealt with oncologists and were debating the shows treatment of it.</p>

<p>Hey, anything to laugh at cancer, eh?!</p>

<p>Sunrise, I am on your side re: support groups. For some they are a godsend. For others, not so much. When you are educated, have access to resources online, have a good support system, and have good insurance and good docs, they are not as important. I would stay away for now.</p>

<p>Oh, somemom,</p>

<p>I hope I did not give the impression that I was “dissing” the choice of some people to keep it quiet for a while. One thing that I learned through this condition is we need to respect all different copying mechanisms: whatever works for anybody is the best for that person. </p>

<p>I did keep it quiet from my kids for a few days even after it became quite certain what I was dealing with based on biopsy and CT scan, and even after my husband I knew the imminent surgery. The reason was, my S1 was finishing his fall quarter and was taking final exams. I did not want to call him with “guess what”, when he was coming home two days before the scheduled surgery in time for us to have a family discussion face to face. This necessitated keeping it quiet from S2 at home. </p>

<p>There was such poignancy about the whole situation when we picked up S1 from the airport on Saturday - how bubbly happy he was talking about the Mediterranean and Northern Africa cruise trip that was supposed to start in a few days (of course, we had already canceled the whole thing a day or two earlier). That night we went out for dinner to celebrate S2’s full ride merit scholarship to his first choice school and his ED acceptance. We were all having a wonderful time, both boys talking about what they were going to do during the cruise. All throughout dinner though I was painfully aware of what would follow the dinner once we came home that evening. That dinner was going to be the last carefree family celebration dinner for some time to come. I experienced it as an intensely bitter sweet two hours with an aching sense of apprehension. </p>

<p>I felt like a grinch who is about to come and destroy the sand castle little kids are building on the beach. I felt vulnerable: was there anything ever in life that was rock solid? In a few hours, I will open my mouth and the reality of carefree routines of my kids’ life will be irrevocably altered, at least for quite some time. I did not want this power. I did not asked for it. If there is a cosmic overseer, is it how this being would feel, looking beyond the boundary of past, present, and future, and knowing what is in store of all of us, the cosmic ignoramus who are like little bugs on petri dish. Would this being feel empathy? Sympathy? </p>

<p>Mild boredom, perhaps? After all, as much as it was a major crisis for us, in the big picture of life, this is so mundane and trite - a genuine cliche if there ever was one. And, oh, how bourgeoisie it is for me to indulge in this! Simply because I can articulate it better, using quasi psychological terms and seemingly more sophisticated vocabularies does not make it any more special than what ails countless souls somewhere half way around the globe where they are facing a real danger of imminent death on a daily basis. </p>

<p>My cancer certainly made me a cheap philosopher, specializing in making much ado about nothing. Now that I think of it, I don’t know how all the writers and artists ever manage to produce their master pieces without the wonderfully inspiring catalyst that is cancer :slight_smile: Maybe they all had it, and did not know about it :)</p>

<p>^ Wow, you are such an amazing person! And such a brilliant writer. I just had to tell you that. You blow me away with your posts.</p>

<p>Sunrise, you are an amazing poster, I only wish I could express my thoughts (which are wonderful, like yours) as well as you do (which just never happens, I not that lyrical ;))</p>

<p>I can completely empathize with the thoughts you had during that meal and in the days leading up to it. It makes my heart flutter and my eyes prickle when I read your words, I can completely imagine sitting there at the table wishing there were a way to delay it just a bit longer. That is the feeling I related to in the TV show
they took it to extreme, of course.</p>

<p>PS: congrats to S2, I think I missed that point along the way, what exciting news for him! And your family.</p>

<p>glad you are feeling well. You are meant to write a book. You really impress me because I think how I handled things took me much longer. The first time I was 34 and different than my current age, but that kind of wisdom and insight does not come overnight. I have many of your thoughts now, but I thought it was because it wasnt my first time around. Perhaps it is age that helps. All your descriptions echo with me. I wanted to cry when you described the time before you told the boys. I have tears in my eyes now.</p>

<p>Speaking of the cancer support groups

 </p>

<p>Over the weekend, my husband I went to the dialog group meeting we used to attend most Sunday mornings. We are regulars there, and both of us gave a talk, in separate occasions. </p>

<p>As luck would have it, the speaker of this Sunday’s meeting was a oncology social worker of a non-profit organization whose missions is to help cancer patients by providing education, information, and support. A few women of the dialog group who are benefiting from this organization also gave “testimonials”. They were very emotional, crying, sobbing, and expressed how much they benefited from the cancer patient support sessions, and how they felt “accepted” unconditionally and without judgment. </p>

<p>After the talk, a couple of people in the audience who knew about my recent status asked me if I was planning to attend sessions provided by this organization. My answer is resounding NO. This is not the way I process my crisis. </p>

<p>As much as it may sound terribly elitist, I admit I have to be able to connect intellectually and cognitively before I can connect emotionally. This is why I could have never married a man of questionable intellect. </p>

<p>Attending support sessions where women pour out their unprocessed, unexamined, and un-introspected emotions without a filter is simply not the way I handle my problem. I would like to have my misery vetted, analyzed and researched. At times, I would like to be able to assess the situation as an outsider looking in with a certain level of detachment and objectivity. More than anything else, I would like to indulge in a maximum degree of black humor and macabre jokes at my expense. When I can’t no longer do that is when I am losing it. I certainly can’t do any of these with women crying and sobbing in support sessions about their condition. </p>

<p>Besides, watching women whose prognosis is twice and three times better than mine going all lugubrious and morose can’t be good for me.</p>

<p>So, no cancer patient support group for me. I will wallow in my misery with all the privilege and luxury of solitary introspection.</p>

<p>At the same time, I can see how an organization like this is an enormous source of support and assistance to women with a different orientation than mine. This organization will certainly be one of the places where I am allocating my charitable contributions this year.</p>

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<p>Sunrise, thank you! This is not elitism. You were not afraid to say what I sometimes think. My H is very grateful that I can speak his “language”, which happens to be the “language” I learned in college, too. Our dinner table discussions are never dull. I’m afraid that if I ever get seriously ill, I will not be able to find a support group that would not engage in self-pity and expressions of “unconditional love”. If I get mauled by a dragon, I will not feel the need to cry about the wounds and pain inflicted by the dragon - I will need a rational, emotion-free, step-by-step plan of how I can slay the dragon or help prevent future dargon attacks in any other way, so even if I never recover, others will not suffer the same pain. I do not hate dragons - they are a part of nature, but they’ll have to learn to feed elsewhere
</p>

<p>Maybe when you get your health back completely, you chould start a different type of a cancer support group?</p>