Yesterday I was in enough pain to take the stronger medication for it. I was also sad and upset about several unrelated bits of bad news that I’ve received recently. I was feeling alone and needy and, truth be told, more than a little sorry for myself. I spent most of the day in bed, feeling drugged and loopy and groggy and dozing off and on, feeling needy and weepy when I was awake. It was not a good day.
Today I woke up and I’m in enough pain to take the stronger medication for it. I am still sad and upset by the bad news. I am still alone and I still need help with simple tasks. But I am not feeling needy, I am up at the computer writing this post, and I am having a friendly chat with my home help, L, who is here working her magic.
So what is the difference between yesterday and today? Yes, my home help L the wonder-worker is here, but the truth is that hours before her arrival I was up and showered and dressed in clean clothes and sitting at the computer doing my sorely neglected email. What changed?
The pain didn’t change. The fatigue didn’t change. The cancer didn’t go away. The sleep issues were not resolved. Why am I up and smiling today? I think it’s the A-word: attitude. Before I went to sleep last night I made a decision to change my attitude.
It’s as simple as it sounds and as difficult as it sounds. I wrote a short update in a Facebook cancer support group to which I belong, and I was complaining about everything from bone tumor pain to mosquito bites. I knew that I would get lots of “poor you!” and hugs and supportive comments and a joke or two in response. But by the end of the my update I found myself writing:
The best thing on earth is that tomorrow is a new day! And also I was able to get up and make some food and drink. And my home help is coming tomorrow. So I should just get off the pity pot and make a gratitude list.
Damn. I hate it when I talk myself out of my moods!
I somehow allowed myself to change the focus, to look in a different direction, to change my attitude. Sometimes that’s all it takes.
When I was an undergraduate (a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away) I was profoundly impressed by Victor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning. This is one of the books that changed my life. In particular, this: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
That blew me away forty-some odd years ago and it still does. No matter what cancer takes away from me. No matter what bad news I receive, no matter what problems I face, I have the freedom to choose how I relate to it. This doesn’t mean mindlessly smiling through a crap storm (remember – not recognizing reality is insane), but it means that I can choose to collapse under it, to fight it, to accept it, to try to change the circumstances, to move out from under it. I can choose to identify myself with the crap storm or to remember that it is separate from me, it is not me. As a religious woman, I can choose to put my faith in the hands of the Creator, remembering that in my religious tradition God helps those who help themselves.
Whatever I choose–even if I choose through inaction–it is my choice. That is the power that is left to me, “the last of the human freedoms”, and when I choose to exercise it I reclaim some of my personhood. My personhood, the choice of my attitude: cancer cannot take that away from me.
Don’t forget: Anyone who is affected by metastatic breast cancer is invited to submit a post for me to publish during October. If you are interested, please contact me at the email in the sidebar or tell me in the comments. We want to hear your voice!