What I Know for Sure, I Don’t Know

Although lots of thoughts have been running rampant and the summer has been full of great activities, the urge to actually write and post on Knee Deep Blog has been latent.

I'm blessed to be at a friend's vacation home on Vashon Island for the 4^th time since June. Interestingly in January I made a list of things I wanted and things to accomplish this year – one of them was the use of a home on a lake or the beach and amazingly it showed up.

The weekend started with waiting for in line long enough for three ferries to go before us and listening to Kids bop blaring on the stereo which is 5 songs on a promotional CD from McDonalds – in one of the songs I heard Ella singing "taco butt, taco butt, taco butt" with a big smile. I turned around and said I think they are saying "talk about it, talk about it, talk about it" to which she replied, no I heard it. It says "TACO BUTT."

This morning (Sunday) the kids were listening to a Geronimo Stilton Halloween story and I came put outside to sip my now lukewarm coffee and take advantage of the Adirondack chair facing the Puget Sound with the warm late morning sun warming my body as I watch Felix the heron hang out on the water's edge. My eyes keep glimpsing the passing ferries in the background. My ears listening to a variety of birds, the water lapping on the shore and an occasional plane crossing the sky. I feel completely happy and full to be alone, quiet and sitting.

A variety of blog post ideas come flowing into my thoughts – my mind tells and weaves stories and I smile but make no effort to get out of the chair to get my computer, make some hot coffee or move from the warming sun – because I know that the moment could be lost. Sitting and being here right now are what is most important. My thoughts keeping going to the 5 choices I have in front of me for my next steps in dealing with potential cancer and breast cancer reoccurrence – and then a thought comes to mind.

What I know for sure, I don't know. I'll never know which choice could potentially be the right choice. And it's simply making a choice and choosing it to be the best choice and living with whatever consequences arise in the future days, months and years. I notice my head is nodding and I finally feel peace after the past few months of internal anguish.

You see, post my initial treatment, my plan was that I'd simply take the damn drug tamoxifen and be done with it in five years and go along my merry way. But, as you know my body decided otherwise – it didn't like the tamoxifen. And I've been wrestling with – what does that mean - for the past couple months. This past week I met with a new naturopathic doctor that specializes in oncology (Leanna Standish) and at our first visit we came up with 3 additional choices – so now I have 5 choices. Somehow have additional choices didn't add to my anguish, rather it gave me more hope.

What I liked most about the visit was her clarity – this is a tough decision and the only way to make it is to get quiet inside and allow the choice to emerge. Whatever you choose, there will be people that agree and those that don't. The ones that don't will be vocal and it's your job to be with your choice. None of us knows what will happen and unfortunately with your family history and genes it makes it a more difficult choice. Immediately I heard myself asking to order up some new genes, but alas that was decided decades ago.

And although I've heard what Leanna has said before from both others and myself – it wasn't until that moment that it sank in with clarity and calm. My fear has been to make the wrong choice with the ramifications of eventual death.

The clarity and calm was, I don't know and I'll never know and as long as I'm not clear and aligned with my choice of continued treatment I'll never be at peace and want to blame myself for a potential bad decision. As my good friend Kathy shared with me this week, there are no bad choices when you are clear it's the right choice for you. And I know that you'll make the best choice possible. I' have to admit that in my business I share this with clients, but it's always easier to be the objective outsider.

That's when I realized I've been wanting to make cancer treatment choices out of fear of death rather than clarity of life purpose and quality of life. I also remember having this conversation with my dad before he died (of cancer). Prior to being diagnosed terminal he said, Michele, I'm going to die, just like one day you will too – right now what's important is that I enjoy whatever time I have.

Cancer and any other chronic life threatening disease does both – creates a cloud of self doubt in choice and gives one freedom to live more fully.

Then Ella sauntered out and asked for breakfast and the moment of being fully present, content and warmed in one of the last summer-ish feeling morning sun was complete. Plus I figured I could get some hot coffee.

Thirty minutes later I was back outside sitting in my same spot. Felix the heron was still there and the kids begged to watch a morning movie – because they were still waiting for the grass to dry before they went out to play. At least that's their excuse. – Even though they end up coming in all wet and sandy from the water. I even tried, but Eli has to leave this morning? And they in unison they sang out, but the movie, please. Hey, I'm a smart mom when the choice is more quiet time in the sun or managing the next round of activities I decided to march myself outside with my current Oprah and some more hot coffee.

I got as far as the back commentary in Oprah, the – what I know for sure and then felt compelled to write. I went inside, got my laptop and just let it sit on my lap for a few moments.

I've been out here a good hour this morning and Felix the heron just keeps hanging out, mostly standing still. I wonder if I would ever have the ability to simply be still for that long without the thoughts that run through my head urging me to go do something. The only time I notice that he strides is when a boat goes by and creates a small surf at the shore line. Then he saunters to one side and then becomes perfectly still waiting for something that I'm not privy.

I begin to write and on the second paragraph a window pops up 10% battery life – critical – plug in or you may lose some data. OK either I'm not supposed to write or simply pay attention. I curse under my breath as I get the plug and look for an outdoor socket. Fortunately there is one, unfortunately it means I now have to sit on the inner deck that's not in the sun, but – at least I can still be outside listening to the sounds and enjoying the view.

Fifteen minutes into writing Tim comes back from his walk and says as soon as I eat I'm packing up. He's going back early with Eli who has a birthday party in Seattle and I'm staying here with Ella and Holden until dinner time. We brought the kids to the island so their parents could celebrate their 8^th anniversary and two nights away down in Portland – amazingly it was the first time they were spending more than one night away. This is when I realize how lucky we have been to have the necessary support to go away as a couple without Eli.

The joke with Frank and Marilyn was, either we are going to say we had a great time, or I'm going to need a time out when I get home. Day one I needed the time out. Day two the kids had settled in and all was great and definitely a repeatable trip with the three kids.

As I wrap up my writing Ella pops back into my head.

Yesterday as we came back from town we dropped Tim off so that he could walk home, get some air and exercise. As we pulled up to their road I realized that Tim only 1.5 miles away so I turned around to pick up Tim and take him further out. I turned the car around rather abruptly and Ella yelled out, "Jee-sus!" with the perfect emphasis to which Holden screamed out "Chee-zits" too! And Eli chimed in "Chee-zits, cheez-zits." And a don't make fun of me response from Ella. I took a hold of the situation by saying Ella – yell it again, I really do think the way you said it sounds like they rhyme – and we all yelled "chee-zits" and laughed. And in this moment I am clear that I don't know my future, but I do know that being completely alive and in the present and living my life the way I want to live it is what is most important – and there is no fear when I am clear.

Comments

[Sherri Jo]

I am a TERRIBLE decision maker. Somehow, I was never really taught that skill - and it is a skill one needs in life. Cancer gave me lots of practice - lol!

Sounds like you are finding your own peace with the decision making process and I am glad. (A bit envious too!) I hope you are able to let go of your anxieties and keep that peaceful feeling. I know it can be challenging.

Sending calm happy thoughts your way.
Sherri Jo

[gsk]

You can go with your gut feeling or take a moment and write down the pros and cons of each alternative. In the end you will make the right decision and NEVER question it.

Always know that the worst case scenario someone tells you - doesn't always happen.

You know what you have to do - don't sweat over the decision.

Good luck!