Avoiding the “Spinach Effect”: Not Letting Cancer Define Me
It’s an honor to host Tracy Seeley, author of My Ruby Slippers: the Road Back to Kansas on her book tour this week.
Avoiding the “Spinach Effect”: Not Letting Cancer Define Me
I used to think that mentioning my breast cancer at a social gathering was a bit like having spinach on my teeth. I might have brilliant things to say about a movie I’d seen, or a funny story to tell about my garden. But I feared that people would see only that shred of dangling spinach. They couldn’t hear beyond the “cancer, cancer, cancer” ringing in their ears. They couldn’t see me.
So I decided I wouldn’t talk about it. After finishing treatment in September of 2002 (surgery, chemo and radiation), I wanted to be more than my cancer. I’m a writer, a reader, a thinker, a teacher, a friend, a gardener, a lover of walks. I like sewing and art and good food and cats. I care deeply about the state of our beautiful, blue planet, and the lives of my daughters and friends. So when anyone asked about my health, as they would, I’d say, “Thanks for asking, but I prefer not to talk about it.” And then I’d switch the subject.
But then I started writing My Ruby Slippers. Writing a memoir might seem a funny thing to do for someone dedicated to privacy. But I thought I could pull it off: write my own story without including the cancer part. You might guess this didn’t quite work. Cancer had reshaped my view of the world. It had changed me. So how could I leave it out? After writing 100 pages of a cancer-free first draft, I knew I had to start again.
Writing My Ruby Slippers let me tell the story of my going back to Kansas, which was the story I wanted to tell. That journey had led me to reconnect with and heal a difficult childhood and reconcile myself to the place I’d grown up. But writing also helped me include my cancer story as only one aspect of my life, not the defining one. It allowed me to frame my cancer on my own terms instead of the fearful terms that others might use. I began to see my writing as a way of helping others see beyond the spinach on my teeth.
As I write in one section of My Ruby Slippers, cancer “whatever else it might be, is also a Rorschach test, a screen on which other project their own fears of mortality….If they would be afraid, I must be. If they would feel the chill of shortening days, I must wear a sweater.” But that’s not the way I see this disease or the way it feels to me. It’s not a dark cloud or a dangling sword; and it’s “not the house I live in…it’s simply the road I walk.”
My cancer metastasized in 2006, and is now my chronic companion. I mention that with some trepidation, because saying the words still feels like spinach in my teeth. But I tell you this because even though the cancer road will not end for me until, well, it ends for good, that’s still not where I dwell. For along that road lies a host of wonders, relationships, pleasures, and the full complexity of me.
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Tracy Seeley lives and writes in Oakland, California, with her husband, filmmaker Frederick Marx and three formerly feral cats. An avid if amateurish organic gardener, she longs for a flock of backyard chickens. In her free time, she’s an English Professor at the University of San Francisco.
http://tracyseeley.wordpress.com/ http://myrubyslippersthebook.wordpress.com/
Win a copy of My Ruby Slippers
If you would like to win a copy of My Ruby Slippers, simply leave a comment below and tell us has a diagnosis of cancer defined you in some way? Or is it something you would rather didn’t define you?
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I loved this post and would love to win a copy of this book..for the title alone (being a bit of a ruby slippers and all things Oz fan!) I haven’t had breast cancer, but I can relate very much to what the author is writing about in terms of what going home means to me.
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What a great post – in an age when privacy has been eroded and a diagnosis of cancer makes you fair game for every platitiude and advice and comment going, it is wonderful to read this and to see it is ok to say, as the author has, I would rather not talk about it, thank you very much!
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What a beautifully written post – like Tracy, I don’t want to be defined as a person with cancer, I want to be me – I am still me!
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Actually, I do feel my life has been defined by cancer, or rather transformed by cancer. It allowed me to give myself permission to explore ways of being more creative in my life – I took a photography course and it led to a whole new career for me.
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I am proud to say that my life has been changed by cancer. I will talk to anyone about it if I think that it will bring about more awareness of the signs to look out for in terms of the disease.
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Cancer gave me a new focus in life and while it doesn’t define who I am, it was the catalyst for change I needed in my life, and for that I am grateful
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I am so impressed by this post and this author, and would very much like to read her book – she is a refreshing change from either the misery cancer memoirs or the yay! cancer is a gift memoirs we are usually faced with. Her attitude towards cancer really resonates with me.
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I AM so much more than my cancer – thank you for reminding me of this today!
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So much of what Tracy is writing about resonates with me, particularly the bit about other people projecting their fear of mortality onto you when you have cancer!
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There is no question that cancer profoundly changed my life – I eat healthier, take more exercise, try not to sweat the small stuff. Cancer has given me more than it took..but I know that I am the lucky one who can say that and not everyone is so lucky.
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My cancer has made me more compassionate and more appreciative of the time I have left. I realize now that I am not invincible. While in some things I might be more careful, overall I’m more willing to just ‘go for it.’ You never know if this is your last chance to do something.
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what a great expression – and yes, the “spinach effect” does seem larger than life sometimes. You feel that even whispering the cancer word makes people fall off their chair! The process of how to incorporate this in your memoir is very interesting, and the fact that this is ultimately a part of your life story, but not the defining element is a great way of putting the spinach in its place! thanks to you both 🙂
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Ah, yes I identify with Tracy’s story. I was diagnosed with breast cancer 2 years ago, just before my 52nd birthday. A perfectly healthy, virbrant and active woman. Doing everything right said the doctor, except you have cancer. Now I didn’t have to have radiation or chemo and I am grateful for that. But I lost my breasts. And I don’t talk about it much but once in a while a friend will introduce me as a ‘survivor’ and that always surprises me. In my head I’m thinking ‘oh yeah, I guess I am, but that’s not all I am’. After I was diagnosed I started writing and drawing and all sorts of creative ideas began pouring out of me. Some switch has been turned on and I am much more satisfied with my life. Now, my home is a bit messier, friends much closer, family more important, and I look forward to each day.
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Having cancer has helped me realize what is truly important. Spending time with family and friends is now my number one priority.
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My cancer was a great teacher. It taught me gratitude, hope and that not everything is within my control
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My cancer today is only a small part of my identity. It brings me close to others who have lived in cancer world. I shake it until I get my blessing. I don’t want it to be who I am. I am more than my cancer.
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As most of you know by now my biggest life changing event was when my daughter Hannah died before birth. I love the spinach in the teeth metaphor though my experience was more like feeling like a leper of old with people avoiding me once they found out that Hannah had died. In the early days many people only relaxed in my company when they realised I wouldn’t talk about Hannah.
Now I choose when I speak of Hannah and when I don’t, rather than allowing other peoples’ fears to dictate.
I love what Tracy says that cancer is not the house she lives in but the road she walks. I often see myself as walking a road along with so many others whose babies have died too soon.
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Having cancer does not define me but what it has done is make me take stock of my life and where I was going with it. My cancer was caught very early, and that has taught me how very fortunate I am, and to value that good fortune and each new day of my life.
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As others have already written here, while cancer does not have to define your life, it can be a great wake up call to live the life you really want to live!
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Cancer made me face up to the many things that were wrong with my life, and fix them.
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Cancer has been a blessing in many ways to me. It stopped me in my tracks and I quickly learned to let the little things go, and SO many things I spent time worrying about and fretting over were little. It has allowed me to focus on what’s really important
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Having cancer has turned my life upside down. My happiness is deeper, my sadness is more profound, my tolerance for the trivial is gone.Each day is a gift but my knowledge of my mortality has been hard to face.
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Love it. So so so true. The comments – I can relate to them all. I don’t mind talking about my cancer at all but one thing that bugs me is when people start to ask how I got it (yeah, if I knew that I’d be receiving some kind of nobel prize mate!), and proceed to tell me how THEY think cancer is formed. Aside from that, it’s given me a new lease of life … pun intended!
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Love it. So so so true. The comments – I can relate to them all. I don’t mind talking about my cancer at all but one thing that bugs me is when people start to ask how I got it (yeah, if I knew that I’d be receiving some kind of nobel prize mate!), and proceed to tell me how THEY think cancer is formed. Aside from that, it’s given me a new lease on life … pun intended!
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My cancer is terminal and I have no choice but to let it define how to live my last days
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I am in the middle of treatment, so right now, cancer defines every waking moment of my life. I look forward to the day when it won’t..hopefully
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I wish it didn’t..but my life has become defined by cancer – by fear, anxiety and depression
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Wow, excellent post and comments!
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My cancer made me a better person. Stronger. Wiser. More compassionate. More appreciative. I am happy to let those values define my life
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Having cancer forced me to make a decision whether to live in fear for the rest of my life or embrace the life I chose LIFE!
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I am not the one with cancer, but my friend has just been diagnosed with breast cancer – this post is a great lesson to me in not letting it define who she is – she is still Laura, mother, sister, aunt and my very best friend.
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Fantastic post! I was diangosed with cancer 4 months ago and while I am not happy not to let it define me…it seems friends and family aren’t. it pees me off to see their attitude towards me change now that i have cancer and see through their eyes that I have someone become “poor Suzanna with cancer”
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cancer has taught me to live in the present. I don’t need to worry about what happened yesterday or what tomorrow may bring – that is how it defines my life and for that i am grateful
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cancer is something I have to deal with, it is not who I am!
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I never thought I would be speaking in public, let alone, about CANCER! But here I am, five years later, talking to groups about breast health and surviving cancer – so I guess you can say cancer defined my life and gave it a whole new meaning.
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my cancer doesn’t define who I am, just what I am living with
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My cancer does NOT define who I am. It has taught me to appreciate the time I do have.
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My cancer taught me that most things in life are out of my control. My cancer taught me to let go of the things I can’t control.
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My cancer gave great clarity to my life. Before cancer, I had to decide what was going to be my priority for the day. After cancer, I know what it is!
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I am not defined by “what” I do…or by “who” I believe I am…but, I am defined by how much of myself I invest in those who love me. My cancer is not me. My work is not me. The only me that exists is the ME I have established in the hearts of those who I love and spend my valuable time with and that I am working on making the best me there can be!
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My cancer is not me. I have cancer. It doesn’t have me.
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Having cancer has given me the insight to see what was/is truly important and how to not waste time
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Having cancer changed my outlook, my wants, my desires. It changed my friends, it changed everything in my life.
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Wow! What a great response to Tracy’s guest post – thanks for all your comments everyone!
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It took me a LONG time to talk about my cancer, to tell those in the workplace that I would not be working for a while because of cancer. When I left, most people didn’t know why, but before I could return to work, I developed lymphedema, so the sleeve told my story for me.
I can talk more easily about my cancer now, but still there are those whom I wish didn’t know. I find myself reassuring those who find out about the cancer by asking about my compression sleeve, telling them it is ok, I’m ok.
I AM ok, I just have a different outlook on life, different priorities, different passions. But deep down I am still me. I still love, laugh, cry, etc. – but with a different twist to it all….
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What a fantastic response to this terrific guest post. I don’t have cancer so don’t feel able to comment beyond saying – I would still love to read this book 🙂
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There was a book published a few years ago “I got cancer but it ain’t got me” – that just came to mind reading today’s post and the many comments.
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I love the title of this post – the spinach analogy made me smile 🙂
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So, so true!
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What a terrific post – real food for thought here as I struggle with finding meaning in my recent cancer diagnosis
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I found your blog when searching the internet for a forum to help me deal with the post treatment blues, well more than blues, depression, sadness, and loneliness i feel now that my breast cancer treatment is finished. I just want to say how helpful and supportive it has been – you provide such great information and a real sense of community. This is my first time commenting..not just because I would love this book 🙂 but because this post really helped me so much today to realise that I may have had cancer, but it doesn’t have to define who I am or what I do with my life. Thank you!
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Loved, loved, loved reading this wise lady’s perspecitve and all your comments today!
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Terrific guest post – but then what else would you get from the wonderful JBBC…(will flattery help me win a copy of Tracy’s book??)
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I gained so much from reading this and other’s comments – I thought cancer had to define me – but I see now that this doesn’t have to be the case.
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Ah, yes I identify with Tracy’s story. I was diagnosed with breast cancer 2 years ago, just before my 52nd birthday. A perfectly healthy, vibrant and active woman. Doing everything right said the doctor, except you have cancer. Now I didn’t have to have radiation or chemo and I am so grateful for that. But I lost my breasts. And I don’t talk about it much but once in a while a friend will introduce me as a ‘survivor’ and that always surprises me. In my head I’m thinking ‘oh yeah, I guess I am, but that’s not all I am’. After I was diagnosed I started writing and drawing and all sorts of creative ideas began pouring out of me. Some switch has been turned on and I am much more satisfied with my life. Now, my home is a bit messier, friends much closer, family more important, and I look forward to each day. Oh, and I am raising a few backyard chickens.
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I think it is often the case that others wish for your cancer to define you even more so than you do yourself!
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Food for thought!
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So many wonderful comments here–thank you for these glimpses into your own cancer stories.
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“She had to learn it for yourself” – I have the ruby slippers on my fridgerator (well – a magnet not the actual slippers.) and they remind me that the power is always within you to find your way. That was never more true that after my own diagnosis with Breast Cancer. I still use the ruby slippers to remind me that I can learn my way back to myself. I would love a copy of Tracy’s book.
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Great piece! I’ve got to read this book – this completely resonates with me. I too struggle with the balance of telling my story vs. not letting cancer suck the air out the room. Often people will tell me about a difficulty they’re having then say that it certainly doesn’t compare to what I’ve been through. I always, always tell people that my story doesn’t trump anyone else’s, but it doesn’t seem to work out that way.
Katie
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Too many of your comments to respond to personally, but just want you all to know I have read each and everyone of them and am so moved at your response. Thanks again everyone and I will be letting you know who is the winner of the book in a few days time, so keep those comments coming.
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I’m so glad to see this post. I have many people in my life who have had cancer, and I’ve seen the opposite in a number of them – they DO seem to let it take them over and define so much of what they become, and I find that sad. Thanks for sharing.
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understood your view. as a breast cancer survivor it seems when people ask how you are they excpect to hear all the medical aspects not just fine thanks.
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Having cancer resulted in my decision to start running – and I love running. Running defines me lately, but I suppose it was the cancer that led me to that.
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I love this post by Tracy, I especially love how she said it, cancer is “not the house she lives in ..but the road she walks.” I had been struggling for a while to not let my cancer diagnosis and quick recurrence (metastasis) define me. I was finally able to embark on that new journey after my most recent doc appointment when I entered a new phase of wellness. As my car’s GPS would say, cancer has caused me to “recalculate’ the roads I am traveling on for this journey called life, but it is not the final destination.
Deb
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So great to see you here Debbie and what a great analogy – life really is all about recalculating..being flexible and open to changing routes! I am also thinking of the name of how you renamed your own blog “Life is Bigger Than Cancer” and how well this fits in with these themes.
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Deb, I love that analogy of recalculating your roads. And I’m loving being part of the community here today. As many have noted, cancer can be a life-changing teacher. It certainly makes us sharpen our focus on what really matters and what we want to do with our one and only life.
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My diagnosis hasn’t defined me but it’s definitely become a part of who I am and I wouldn’t change a thing because it’s broadened my horizons. It served as a wake-up call and got me to focus on what really matters. It gave me my poetry back. It brought me into this wonderful community of women and healthcare professionals, both online and off, and gave me a lifelong appreciation of the art and practice of medicine and the resilience of people facing illness.
Wonderful writing, Tracy. I look forward to reading your memoir.
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I don’t know if my diagnosis (September 2010) has defined me or the treatment, the lack of energy, the hair loss and other physical changes – it’s hard not to focus on the diagnosis with the treatment “in your face.” I do think I am more patient with my daughters (5 and 7) and I’m no longer sweating the small stuff. I also try to live in the now and no longer say, “someday, I’d like to…” If there is something I want to do or see, I make every effort to make a plan for how I will do or see those things.
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You know I suppose I want it both ways. I’ve been blogging extensively about my cancer and there are days I want to talk about it to anyone who will listen. But there are other days when I want to talk about anything but my cancer.
I was at a wedding recently and I was dressed up and pretty and wearing my wig and feeling good and I just wanted to enjoy the moment and bask in the happiness of the day but all the people at my table wanted to talk about was my cancer. I was very uncomfortable because it was supposed to be a nice break from cancer treatments and seriousness and I’m sure not everyone at the table wanted to listen to me talk about cancer all through dinner.
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I think it must be a little like being a celebrity Carol Anne (albeit a strange kind of celebrity) – there are times when you want the press attention and then just times you want to be treated like an “ordinary” person but your “public” don’t always get that!
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This sounds like a great book. I would love to read it!
Cancer doesn’t define me, but it is certainly a part of ‘my definition’ now.
There have been more than a few times when cancer did indeed feel like spinach stuck in my teeth. I will remember this analogy fondly from now on!
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Yes, me too Nancy – don’t think I will ever look at spinach in quite the same way again 🙂
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Great post! Cancer doesn’t define me, but avoiding recurrence has become part of my life. I was always a bit of a health-nut, and now may have gone off the edge a bit. I am fine with that, but I will say I am less social, at least amonst non-survivors. Most don’t “get it”. I often get comments on my healthy lifestyle, not all positive. However, cancer has opened up a whole new universe of wonderful people and friends. As they say…the initiation is tough, but it’s an incredible club. Cancer has also given me a new calling…my mission now is to help others, and to make a difference in the lives of those newly diagnosed.
and love the spinach idea…almost afraid to mention that I had cancer…people recoil and get very quiet.
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Thanks for stopping by Elyn and sharing your perspective here. I am very struck by what you say about not getting a positive response regarding your healthy lifestyle – I think that is very much because it makes others uncomfortable that they are perhaps not leading such a healthy lifestyle themselves and that is very much their issue. As Tracy points out with cancer, many people are afraid and unsure what to say because it makes them face their own mortality – again not a comfortable thing for people to face and I guess as cancer patients we made them look at something they don’t wish to do.
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Tracy,
I’d love to read your book!! Sounds wonderful.
Cancer never defined me, yet it changed my life forever. Psychologically, it’s been hard to cope with how a woman who was the epitome of health got cancer and of course the fears that come with all that cancer brings.
On the other hand, cancer forced me to take stock and re-evaluate my life. And I changed careers and got out of a bad marriage. I learned to oil paint and made many, many new friends. It has enriched my life in a way nothing else has. Now I savor each day.
However, I can’t say I’m glad I got cancer.
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I think that is true for so many of us Beth – cancer has been a catalyst which changed our lives, but it was a hard task masker indeed which made us change.
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Tracy,
What a fabulous post! On a recent trip to Ireland I started off determined to keep my cancer history to myself. I would not reveal it to fellow travelers so they could see me as a whole person. But when I got to know some of them more intimately (especially on a cruise through a fjord), I found myself sharing pieces of it with those who were transparent with their lives. It felt freeing to disclose–or not–according to my mood. The reactions of people were not what I expected: no stares of pity, no “Oh I am so sorries,” but rather an opening up, a camaraderie. So I would say that cancer does define me, but only when I let it do so.
You are an inspiration to me, a testament to grace in the midst of travail.
Jan
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That is such a great point Jan – we have the power to choose whether and how much we let cancer define us. Also, as I say time and again, cancer may have been a defining moment for us but it doesn’t have to be a cancer diagnosis – it can be a relationship break-down, a bereavement, a divorce…no one is without a life challenge that leaves scars in its wake. The question is do you let those things define you or, as Anna says in her comment, do you let it direct your life in ways that are life-affirming.
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As a forty year old woman living with metastatic breast cancer, I like to think that cancer doesn’t “define” me, but it sure does feel like it “directs” me at times.
At times it’s a real struggle to separate your “cancer life” from your “normal life” as the two seem to collide quite often, with the “cancer life” barging uninvited into the “normal life”, interrupting and taking away from those normal everyday joys. It’s times like that, when it’s very hard to keep your “cancer life” to yourself, because it’s something that cannot be hidden when you wear the side-effects like a badge, nor is it something that I’m prepared to stay quiet about any longer. It quite simply is what it is.
But when I can, I do savor those normal everyday joys. And most days I am sure to find something that brings a smile to my face. Today it was clomping around my garden, and discovering my sickly heirloom tomato plant might actually pull through 🙂
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So great to read your comment and I love that distinction you draw between defining and directing your life. I always remember in your guest post here some months ago, you were the first person to say those words I am still me, I am more than my cancer (or words to that effect) and it stayed with me for a long time. Hope the tomato plant pulls through 😉
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Tomato plant looks even better today…….I think it’s cured! 😉
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I can totally relate to Tracy’s post. I’m a metastatic breast cancer survivor, who wrote a book and blogs about it all the time. Sometimes I wonder if I focus too much on the dis-ease by making this my profession. Yet, I see the gifts cancer brings, such as being able to help others who face this disease and having heart-to-heart talks with my daughter about how happy we are to have precious time together.
I try to put cancer out of mind, and usually can despite what I do for a living. Then scan time comes up like it did today, and it’s back in my face. I like the saying, “I have cancer, but cancer doesn’t have me.” There is so much more to me and my life.
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I think that you can both be more than your cancer and also make it a focus of your life’s work Tami – it works for me that way. Everyone is different in how they deal with cancer, deal with all of life’s challenges, and there are many ways in which we choose to integrate the experience into our lives. I will happily talk about the cancer openly to anyone because it has been such a huge part of what has made me who I am today.
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Breast cancer has not made me a betterr person, but it has changed my life. My cancer was non-agressive, so I never felt like I was staring my mortality in the face after being diagnosed. But I deal with side effects from surgery (lymphedema) and from anti-hormonal drugs every day. It is what is and part of my everyday life.
I often wear a sleeves and get asked about them. I didn’t have recostruction and do not normally wear prosthesis. When I go to the gym, I change in the communal dressing room. So I have ‘spinach in my teeth’ everyday, even if I don’t talk about cancer. Can’t remove the spinach, so I keep on doing what I want to do.
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Hi Lisa, thanks for stopping by..I love your attitude!
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Thank you for the kind compliments above, and for the lively, lovely comments. I’m continually struck by the grace and resilience of cancer patients and survivors, and am glad to be among you all even from this digital distance.
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What a fantastic response to this post – great to read the discussion. PS Would love to win the book too 😉
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Tracy is right! A lively discussion indeed – how great to come across such a vocal and vibrant community.
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Cancer defined my status as a carer, as I had a large input to the illnesses of both of my parents for several years. It defined me in taking them to chemotherapy, radiography and oncology appointments, and it defined me when I visited them in hospital for weeks on end. Now they have both been taken by cancer, it defined me as an orphan in my thirties, something which in contemporary times is very unusual. Whilst neither my experience of being a carer for people with cancer nor my bereavement wholly defines me, it is a big part of the person I’ve become, particularly in the way I strive to support others who have experienced a cancer journey. Cancer changes you, however it gets into your life, and they way you define yourself after cancer, be it your own cancer or that of a loved one, is always going to be different from how you were before.
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wow, what a wonderful post, this sounds like it is a book well worth reading and what a brave lady.
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What a moving post. i can’t wait to read your book! I love the spinach in my teeth visual . . . what a great way to describe this experience . . . you are spot on!
For a time after my initial diagnosis I told only a select group of people. By select I only mean limited. There were others that I was close to, even much closer to, that I did not tell at first. It was not so much a deliberate thing – to keep my diagnosis relatively private – as it was that I simply did not have time to keep having those phone calls or visits with people and to deal with their own devastation over my illness. I had doctor’s appointments to attend, second opinions to get (thirds and fourths) and scans and all of the myriad of things that a newly diagnosed cancer patient has to go through. I had to focus on that. So that is what I did and before I knew it a month had gone by and then another and well, until I was bald from chemo there were many people who did not know about my diagnosis.
What it did for me though was that it created a space where I could exist without cancer hanging all over every conversation. It was not an easy time for me as it simply is not for anyone. But, once the cancer was out of the bag so to speak, I did kind of miss the time when the whole world did not know about it.
For me, the more people who knew, the more my cancer became a definition of who I was. I did not like that, do not like that about cancer. Every phone call, every visit was understandably impacted by my illness. It changed my relationships with family and friends. I met some incredible people (and still do – the internet is such a gift, this blogging community we are in, what a wonderful outlet and community for us all) and formed some deep friendships that I know would not have come into my life had it not been for cancer.
I am getting further out from my initial diagnosis and as that happens my life – in particular my social life – is far less about cancer and I greatly appreciate that.
I love your blog and I very much look forward to reading your book!
All the best,
Lisa (http://www.cancerfree2b.com)
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Pingback: Winner of book giveaway « Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer
First of all, I’m not writing to get pity points, although it may be hard not to write it as such. In a nutshell, my story is that towards the end of my treatment for stage I breast cancer, my brother’s cancer (Ewing’s Sarcoma) returned, and he died 6 months after the recurrence. After watching him die, I was, of course, irrational & reactionary and thought it was inevitable that I would die from cancer as well.
I have been cancer-free for 3 years now, and the 3 year anniversary of my brother’s death approaches. Life continues. I do not want cancer to define me, or my relationship to & loss of my brother. To that end, I am entering the field of hospice care to essentially help people have good deaths. We all die, we all want good lives – shouldn’t we want good deaths? And as for my beloved brother, I am attempting to write the story of our relationship & my loss, as well as a record of sibling loss. There is very little published about sibling loss.
Thank you — for writing this has been cathartic. I am a woman whose brother has died, and I want to help others. That is who I am trying to be, sans cancer.
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Oh I am so sorry for your loss and you are right, there is very little written about sibling loss. I do hope that you will write about it to help others.
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