Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts

Monday, December 18, 2017

2018: Working Toward a Better Tomorrow

Thomas E. Ricks wrote in a brief post on the Foreign Policy website on December 6:

"People stuck inside tragedies often make the mistake of thinking they are nearing the end when they are only in Act 1. And that is where I think we stand, still at the beginning of this long ride. All around us, the selfish and malevolent are thriving, flatterers are rising, and good people feel simply powerless.

What especially bothers me is this: For about a year now, I've feared for the future of our country, for the first time in my life. But lately, on top of that, I've begun to suspect that I won't live to see the final act."

Mr. Ricks accurately describes my feelings about the past year. I have become increasingly concerned that we are being led down a rabbit hole from which we will never dig out. Regressive and harmful policies are being championed, the truth is being obscured and denied, compassion is lacking, and political polarization is widening. I am filled with despair. 

I was filled with a different kind of despair fourteen years ago today when I was diagnosed with leukemia. December 18, 2003, was a terrifying day, but as scary as that experience was, I maneuvered through chemotherapy and bone marrow transplant over the next six plus months with much optimism because I've always been an optimistic person—it's who I am, or was, anyway. It saddens me that my optimism is being overshadowed by pessimism. I have become jaded and have engaged in behaviors detrimental to my well-being, trying to anesthetize myself from the ugliness and ignorance so prevalent nowadays—or so it seems. 

Yet, the world has always been afflicted with conflict, illness, and inequality. We are just more intensely aware of it because of the 24/7 news-media cycle. It's not only traditional media, but social media has made us all journalists and opinion writers. False information is easily spread and when it is proven to be a lie, retractions are rarely made, so the lie remains and becomes truth to many, which is toxic and destructive to a democratic society.

I am hardly alone, I know, as 2017 is coming to a close. I refuse to go through 2018 consumed with the anxiety and rage I've experienced this year. It is unhealthy and does nothing to help right the wrongs I see occurring in the world. Therefore, I have printed off Mr. Ricks' short post and will keep it with me as a reminder to not fall into the trap of despair, thinking nothing can be done and that our country is stuck heading in a direction I, and many others, find reprehensible.

Anger and anxiety will fuel my desire to fight harder to create a world in which I want to live: One that respects everyone's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; a world where more people vote and engage in their communities; a country where people have enough food, adequate healthcare, decent housing, and effective public schools that help all children thrive, especially in our rapidly changing world where automation and artificial intelligence will continue to replace the human workforce, presenting ever increasing challenges to people's financial well-being and thus, their quality of life; a world that cares about preserving wildlife, protecting the environment—land, air, and water—and yes, mitigating the negative impacts of climate change; a world that works together to tackle problems, not scapegoat others or narrow the field of opportunity to only the wealthy and well-connected.

That's a tall order. There will never be true equality; that is impossible. There must be incentives to encourage innovation and entrepreneurship. I believe in capitalism, just not crony capitalism. I believe we must have robust competition. Competition is a quaint concept anymore as mega-mergers and consolidations in the fields of media, healthcare, air travel, and communication (to name a few) have squelched it, giving consumers less choice, not more. 


This is a lot to digest, and so much more could be written. However, I leave it here for now: There are solutions out there, and they are where my focus is going to be in 2018. As for my anxiety and anger, it's time to start meditating again. I found this practice to be effective during my cancer treatment period. In fact, I did it so regularly that even amid the fear and uncertainty of that time, it was the most calm and centered I've ever been—before or since. Maybe it's time to reread Rebirth and remind myself of all the strategies I used to heal myself, especially emotionally, which is what I most need now.

So, I will breathe slowly, in and out, focusing on my breath, calming down, and appreciating all I have this holiday season. I am grateful for my friends and family, especially having watched my nieces and nephews grow from babies to the amazing young people they are today. Both my parents are alive, which is another blessing. Their presence in my life is never taken for granted. This cancerversary, I commit to making changes that will contribute to better health, physically and emotionally. I leave you with this from Rebirth (2nd edition):


"Perspective is the most important lesson learned during my cancer experience. I may still lose control from time to time, but I manage to eventually put it into the right context. For example, a few years post-transplant when I was back in the work world, while walking up Park Avenue to the office, sheets of rain flooded the streets and sidewalks. I was gritting my teeth and growling under my breath because a frigid temperature and harrowing winds were compounding my misery. Overwhelmed by these external and internal dramas, my irritation intensifying, I forced myself to stop—literally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk (a major faux pas in New York City, by the way)—take a deep breath and ask myself: Would you rather be out in this crappy weather or in a hospital bed receiving chemotherapy? (Yes, I actually used the word "crappy.")

The answer was a no-brainer. My mind-set swiftly shifted and a smile formed on my face as I unsuccessfully leapt over an expansive, ankle-deep puddle, soaking my feet in the process. I was out in the world living my life. It was exhilarating and wonderful, despite my cold, wet feet." 

Have a wonderful holiday season.

Cheers!

Saturday, June 01, 2013

Celebrating my Second Birthday Today...Nine Years Since BMT

Today I celebrate my second birthday. I am nine years old. The anniversary of my bone marrow transplant is always a time for celebration, even if it’s only me celebrating. It is amazing to me that it has been nine years. I remember it quite vividly, yet at the same time, it seems an eternity ago. So much has happened in the nine years since I wrote the following:


Excerpt from Rebirth:
June 1, 2004 - Tuesday, Transplant Day (Rebirth Day)  Day 0

As the day wore on and the time approached for Barbara’s stem cells to be transfused into me, sorrow replaced anxiety. I am losing a part of me as her stem cells replace mine and begin producing her blood in my body. My blood type will change from O- to O+, which is Barbara’s blood type. This changing of blood type is somewhat unsettling to me. However, I also view this day as one of rebirth—another birthday to celebrate. It is extraordinary how this whole bone marrow transplant process works. It is truly miraculous. And not only is this a physical rebirth, but because of all the self-reflection and positive changes I’m attempting to make in my life, it is a spiritual and emotional rebirth as well. So despite feeling melancholy over what I’m losing, there is excitement and anticipation about what I’m gaining. I thank God for the new stem cells that will generate new and healthy blood in my body and grant me a second chance at life.

Around 3:30 p.m., Dr. Hsu, another physician in Dr. Goldberg’s oncology group, administered the blood transfusion. The transplant was a slow intravenous infusion through my catheter of the bone marrow collected from Barbara. Karen B was already stationed at my bedside and Karen waltzed into the room just minutes before the doctor began the procedure. The transplant, which took all of twenty minutes, was uneventful except for an intense scratchiness in my throat caused by the preservative in the blood. I was given Benadryl prior to the transfusion, which quickly sent me off to la-la land. Meanwhile, my sister and friend sat vigil, watching my blood pressure rise and fall, sometimes significantly, on the monitor. The nurses assured them that this was normal.

Andrew and I - he made his First Communion in 2012
My nephew Andrew turns nine in August; his age is a reminder of how many years ago my BMT took place. In a way Barbara gave birth to both of us in 2004—she was my bone marrow donor while pregnant with him. There is a very deep connection between me and that little boy, who is gorgeous and smart and funny. 

I feel lucky and so blessed to have not just lived, but thrived these past nine years. I don’t know why I survived and other cancer survivors I’ve known did not. All I know is that my life is a gift, and with that gift comes a responsibility to give back. I also try to enjoy and appreciate every day I’ve been granted since my cancer diagnosis. I wake up every morning, giving thanks for another day on this glorious planet, even when I’m highly disgruntled with current events in this country and around the world.

The biggest life lesson from my cancer experience is that not one of us is guaranteed tomorrow, so don’t put off doing activities, taking trips, or being with the people who are most important to you; or taking a risk to accomplish a long-desired goal that you have been too scared for one reason or another to pursue. Life is scary; taking risks is scary, but I’ve found those risks to be worth it.

I hear people lament all the time how life is not fair, and ask why do bad things happen to good people? Life is not fair—bad things happen to good people and wonderful things happen to terrible people; sometimes there seems to be no justice. However, and as much as I want justice, fairness, and equality to prevail, what matters is how you play the cards you are dealt. Do you fall apart and live with anger and fear, or do you embrace [accept] what is and figure out how to live your life in the best way possible for you and for those who interact with you at any given moment?

One of my favorite stories that Thich Nhat Hanh includes in his book The Miracle of Mindfulness is Leo Tolstoy’s “Three Questions.” Versions of the story vary slightly, but it is summarized below an the excerpt  from Rebirth.

April 6, 2004 – Tuesday

In The Miracle of Mindfulness, Thich Nhat Hanh recounts a story by Tolstoy about an emperor searching for the answer to three questions:

1. What is the best time to do each thing?
2. Who are the most important people to work with?
3. What is the most important thing to do at all times?

The answer is this:

Remember that there is only one important time and that is now. The present moment is the only time over which we have dominion. The most important person is always the person you are with, who is right before you, for who knows if you will have dealings with any other person in the future? The most important pursuit is making the person standing at your side happy, for that alone is the pursuit of life.

Often we forget that it is the very people around us that we must live for first of all.

Nine years later, I try to remember the answers to those questions and to be present whether I am with work colleagues, friends, or family members, especially those nieces and nephews whom I was not sure I’d live to see grow up, or even see some of them born. I love being an aunt. 

Today, as I celebrate my second birthday, I give thanks to all those who helped me through that difficult period: my amazing family and friends (many of whom are my "framily;" thanks Karen Burke for the new word!); my doctors, the nurses and aides at Hackensack University Medical Center--they were top-notch, caring professionals; and the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, which has a special place in my heart, and the other cancer support organizations who work tirelessly to support survivors and their caregivers as well as to fund research to cure cancer.

Here's to the next nine years!