Beautiful Grief

It was an especially busy day in the office. I was helping my colleague set up for an in-office Back to School product sale for employees. Of course, communications ended up doing most of the work and our awesome video guys helped us transfer boxes and boxes of product from the loading dock. My colleague was running around making sure everything arrived when I looked down at my phone to see Facebook messages from my Colorado friends (from my life-changing climbing trip with First Descents). I immediately panicked inside because we knew it was scan day for “LPMuffin.” She was one of the amazing souls I met in Colorado and had just fought off her cancer before going on the trip…but we feared it was back. I looked down at my Facebook messages and well, she said it was back, and it was not good…and she likely had it the whole time we were climbing in Colorado. WTF?! It was in her body when she was scaling rocks like a boss?? I felt like I was going to vomit and cry and didn’t know what to do because I had to keep working this event. I sat for a moment and then worked through the fog. I knew this could happen…meeting all of these cancer survivors…it could come back for any one of us. I just didn’t think it would happen so fast.

I went back up to my floor and sat in my cube. I knew I couldn’t hold it together and I just needed someone to be there for me. In the past I would have held it in, but I’ve learned that is just such a bad idea and it’s ok to allow people to be there for you. The thought of crying at work though – ah! I went into my boss’ office and sat in her comfy chair. I was all but three words in when I lost it. She is amazing and immediately shut her door, grabbed me tissues, and positioned me in the chair where people couldn’t see me through the glass window of her office. She let me cry, and she listened. She said something that really made me think about how I have all these people in my life now that had been sick, were sick, and could be sick again.

**

Today. Today I celebrated the life of Larry C. at his funeral. I wrote about Larry C. about a year and a half ago when Dana Farber awarded him volunteer of the year. To say Larry had a profound impact on my life would be an understatement. I got to see Larry just about monthly at our Patient and Family Advisory Council meetings. Although I didn’t spend a lot of time with him, it was so easy to see his soul, and who he was and what he had to give.

Larry was calm, humble, smart, compassionate, thoughtful…I could go on and on. Hearing what his loved ones had to say about him today was so special. What I saw in him each month was what he lived by. Larry loved the outdoors and would go on what most would call crazy camping trips in the dead of winter in the Adirondacks. His friend talked about how Larry never complained about the heat, the cold, the bugs…the challenge. He remembered Larry’s comment that, “Any day outdoors is better than a day in the office.” Everyone smiled and laughed.

Larry cared for his wife when she was ill with cancer for ten years and after she passed he spent his next ten years helping others at Dana Farber. He then, ever so quietly, started his own cancer battle in 2014.

Larry just had such an appreciation. Appreciation for his family, his ability to give back at Dana Farber and to honor his late wife, the outdoors…and just being alive.

Not only did I love Larry for who he was and how you were just drawn to him, but today I reflect on how many gifts he gave me and many others. He touched so many lives. He is the kind of man that makes you want to do better and remind yourself every second of every day that life is beautiful and we must spend our time finding the beauty in it and appreciating it. I can’t help but find the irony in his love for the outdoors and what the outdoors has done for me and so many other First Descents alumni. He was a true angel walking this earth and he is looking down with his infectious smile right now saying in is typical, humble way, I was just doing my job.

As I was walking out of the funeral with two friends/employees of Dana Farber, one of them turned to us and said that Larry wanted his donations directed to our Patient and Family Advisory Council. Well, wow. Of course he did.

**

After I processed that LP Muffin’s cancer was back, my friends and I went into full on support mode and began planning our trip up to Canada. LP Muffin lives her life with such beauty, grace, and adventure. She is a Yogi that travels the world and the way she handled everything was remarkable. She throws fear out the damn window. Today, she is doing extremely well due to a chemo drug with minimal side affects. Her future is unknown, but that hasn’t stopped her from living for one god damn minute.

My life is SO much fuller with LP Muffin and Larry in it. Was there pain when LP Muffin relapsed and when Larry was put to rest today? Yes. Pain, tears, grief…but also abundant gratitude and warmth. They have both changed my life. How lucky am I? How lucky am I at the age of 29 years old to continually be reminded that I need to be a better person, shouldn’t sweat the small stuff, value family and friends, and get out and live! When I am repelling off cliffs in Thailand next month I will have Larry in my heart – and when I get scared I’ll remember what the Rabbi said today at the funeral, “Life is not always about getting to the top, or the summit, we must focus on the journey.”

We Rewrite Our Own Strength

Yet again, something my Soul Cycle instructor said stuck with me. Before going home for the holidays (yay!) I decided to do an early morning Soul Cycle class with Sal. The regular classes are normally 45 minutes, but this was the one hour class, called Soul Survivor. Well, let me just say this survivor was souled. It was so incredibly hard, but amazing at the same time. The feeling of pushing yourself to do something you never thought you could is indescribable. As the class got harder and harder and we were about 15 whooo’s in, Sal said, “Keep going, keep going! We all rewrite our own strength.”

The next couple of days I could not stop thinking about what Sal had said. I don’t think he – or I – realized how profound that statement was until I really thought about it. I have rewritten my own strength dozens and dozens of times. I went from hating needles, to you have a cyst the size of a baby’s head in your abdomen, to you need major surgery, to oh wait, it’s cancer, to you need another surgery and another, to it’s all gone, to oh, wait it’s back and its huge…

There are so many things that go on in your head as you deal with an emotional rollercoaster like this. To be honest, it is impossible to process all at once and fight or flight kicks in. (Then months and years later it all starts to hit you, yes this is PTSD.) But what I now realize is before this all happened, I was not as strong as I am now. As the punches in the gut kept coming, I kept rewriting my own strength. There were times when I felt like I had no emotional energy to even react to the next punch, but I think I was just stronger – or at least I hope. The girl that once hated needles now doesn’t flinch for a blood draw, or a foley post surgery, or an epidural for pain management, or living with a tumor every day.

Although every cancer patient has many, many rewrites, it doesn’t mean we don’t get tired, frustrated, feel defeated, and need to scream and cry it out.

***

I went to visit my mom at school yesterday and saw her friend Toni L. She looked beautiful. Her hair was done; she had cute boots on, a bright sweater and a pretty scarf. Oh, and a smile, despite the fact that she was holding her left arm because of the cancer in it, and the pain and swelling she is dealing with. This woman has had so many rewrites, my god. Her and I chatted for a bit and she seemed in such good spirits – I just marveled at her – all of her. She was telling me how she was starting the trial the next day and she just hoped it worked, and that she didn’t lose her hair. She said, “I know it's vain but…” I said, “Oh my god, it is not vain!” It’s amazing how us cancer patients still keep so humble. She also said that her nurse, who she loves, told her that she has much less cancer in her body than a lot of other patients. That really gave her – and me – something to hang onto. Her fight is not nearly over; she is just going through another goddamn rewrite. Is it the most un-fucking-fair thing in the world? Yes. But will a bright light like her ever give up? Never.

Toni’s Facebook status the other day was about how blessed she was this holiday season. Damn…she is the rewrite queen and I am just a princess (tehehe) living in her city, inspired and encouraged by her every day.