It’s been two years since my docs at the Huntsman Cancer Center gave me a scoot on the butt and sent me on my merry way. But I come back- every six months. And every six months my reserve is tested. I’m given a mammogram or MRI, then asked to sit in a room. If you’ve never had a cancer scare, the best way to describe this wait is – remember when you went to took your first HIV test and the clinic called to say your results are in but that you had to see them in person? You couldn’t get the news over the phone. That time between the phone call and the chat. That’s what it feels like to have an MRI or Mamm now. Before 2009, a mammogram would have been routine. Like getting a flu shot or blood test. Now there’s always that ‘what if?’ And judging from tales of relapses, the ‘what if?’ never goes away.

I read a post on my FB page today. Longtime Salt Lake City news anchor Mary Nichols was recently diagnosed with early stage breast cancer. I felt like I had to respond personally. When it happened to me I knew NO ONE with cancer. My aunt had died of pancreatic cancer in 2002 so I couldn’t talk to her. My colleague Joni heard through the grapevine and reached out to me. I had no idea. Like me, she showed the cancer card on a need to know basis. It helped to just hang out with her for coffee. We would breeze in and out of the subject but mostly it was nice to sit awhile with someone who knew what I was going through.

So I went on Mary’s blog to write this:

Hi Mary- We don’t really know each other but we have a bunch of mutual friends in the industry. I often forget that I have a breast cancer story. It’s the occasional weird look of concern and the way someone asks “how are you doing” that reminds me; or seeing a post like this on FB.
I’m so sorry to hear that you’ll have to go through what I did. It was quite an excruciating process. As a reporter, I too dug and dug, did all my research, even spoke personally with Doctors outside of Utah. 
I was diagnosed with Stage 1 Breast cancer in 2009, had a lumpectomy and there was no spreading to the lymph nodes (they can’t know until surgery). They say they got it all with surgery but I still went through chemo and radiation based on results from what’s called an oncotypeDX test (developed here in Utah!).
Now, I go in every 6 months for either a mammogram or MRI. So far, still clean. I have my next MRI next week. Anyway, I just want to say that your journey will be personal to you. No matter how hard you search for similarities. So don’t let ANYONE tell you stories of people in their life that have had cancer unless it has a positive outcome. You don’t need it. 
Here is the chronicle of my bout with breast cancer.

Coming Out

If you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I get it.

I did not write this article. It’s written by Bronnie Ware, a palliative care worker who has worked with countless numbers of patients at death’s door. He asked them if they had any regrets or anything they would do differently in life and some common themes surfaced.

As we get closer to the 2012 and you’re forced to come up with “resolutions”, I couldn’t help but repost this article to remind you that it’s not too late… until it’s too late.

 The Top 5 Regrets

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me
This was the most common regret of all. When people realize that their life is almost over and look back clearly on it, it is easy to see how many dreams have gone unfulfilled. Most people have had not honored even a half of their dreams and had to die knowing that it was due to choices they had made, or not made.

It is very important to try and honor at least some of your dreams along the way.

From the moment that you lose your health, it is too late. Health brings a freedom very few realize, until they no longer have it.

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard – This came from every male patient that I nursed. They missed their children’s youth and their partner’s companionship.

Women also spoke of this regret. But as most were from an older generation, many of the female patients had not been breadwinners. All of the men I nursed deeply regretted spending so much of their lives on the treadmill of a work existence.
By simplifying your lifestyle and making conscious choices along the way, it is possible to not need the income that you think you do. And by creating more space in your life, you become happier and more open to new opportunities, ones more suited to your new lifestyle.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings – Many people suppressed their feelings in order to keep peace with others. Many developed illnesses relating to the bitterness and resentment they carried as a result.

As a result, they settled for a mediocre existence and never became who they were truly capable of becoming.

We cannot control the reactions of others. However, although people may initially react when you change the way you are by speaking honestly, in the end it raises the relationship to a whole new and healthier level. Either that or it releases the unhealthy relationship from your life. Either way, you win.

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends – Often they would not truly realize the full benefits of old friends until their dying weeks and it was not always possible to track them down. Many had become so caught up in their own lives that they had let golden friendships slip by over the years. There were many deep regrets about not giving friendships the time and effort that they deserved. Everyone misses their friends when they are dying.

It is common for anyone in a busy lifestyle to let friendships slip. But when you are faced with your approaching death, the physical details of life fall away. People do want to get their financial affairs in order if possible. But it is not money or status that holds the true importance for them. They want to get things in order more for the benefit of those they love. Usually though, they are too ill and weary to ever manage this task. It all comes down to love and relationships in the end. That is all that remains in the final weeks, love and relationships.

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier
This is a surprisingly common one.

Many did not realize until the end that happiness is a choice.

They had stayed stuck in old patterns and habits. The so-called ‘comfort’ of familiarity overflowed into their emotions, as well as their physical lives. Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content. When deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again.
When you are on your deathbed, what others think of you is a long way from your mind. How wonderful to be able to let go and smile again, long before you are dying.

Life is a choice. It is YOUR life. Choose consciously, choose wisely, choose honestly. Choose happiness.

How do you accept death? Life, that’s easy. You look forward to seeds sprouting, grass turning green, a new baby’s wail. But how do you face death without this huge ache and dread in your gut? Maybe it’s different when you’re the one about to go – after you’ve lived 90 years. But I’m telling you now, I’m scared of the pain and unending sorrow that will meet me when a parent dies. No matter how angry and awful parts of my childhood are remembered to be, my mom and dad are my best friends. I call them every other day just to chat and catch up. They get on my case for choices I’ve made, I hang up on them, we chuckle, we plan visits. Who will I call ‘just to call?’ Who will make me feel that no matter what I do, who I do, how I feel, where I am, I have someone I can count on, someone who has my back, someone who still loves me? Only parents do that. They may pull the silent treatment or hold a grudge but in the end the wall comes down. Without them, I’m alone. I’m raw. I’m unprotected. Left to make decisions without their voice in my head; no one to try to make proud of me.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, my parents cancelled their trip to Europe, got in a car and drove 12 hours to the hospital to be there for my surgery 10 days later. They would have been here immediately but I made them wait. No one else but a parent does that for you without asking. They just know it’s what you need.

I want to scream, “Don’t die! You can’t die! Live forever, please?!” But I can’t because it wouldn’t do any good.

My dad’s cousin died last night. I called Dad to see how he was doing. He sounded just like he always does. Upbeat, sarcastic, active. He told me they’re waiting for a guy to show up to measure the backyard for a putting green. Then he said, “and then there were two.” Referring to the fact that only he and his cousin Joseph were the last of his line (ignoring of course that both of them have children and grandchildren). He’s not thinking legacy. He’s thinking time left. Me too. I wish I could pick his brain about death, dying, life, how he sees those, how he faces them, what he wants in the end and what he dreams about. But I can’t. Not because he doesn’t want to talk about it but because I’d be reduced to a blubbering mess. I don’t want them to think they have to do something to make me feel better. We have nothing to resolve, no words left unsaid. But maybe I feel like that kind of conversation could be closure in the future; something to look back on and smile warmly inside? But I’m not strong enough to start that chat.

Maybe I’m afraid to see how scared they really are; or how they’re not scared at all? Maybe I’m just afraid of not being steady. I cried making the speech at my best friend’s wedding reception. She caught it on tape. I’m still mortified by that moment.

How do you tell someone living how much you love them and how much you’ll hurt when they’re gone? You expect them to say something like- “I’m not dead yet” and then you feel like an ass. I hate myself right now because they’re here, they’re not gone yet and I’m grieving when I should be celebrating; when I should be embracing whatever time they are here. My mom is 70-something (she’d kill me if I revealed the number), my dad, 82. This year we are celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary in Club Med Punta Cana. Last September, I had them running, er, walking all over Epcot, Hollywood Studios, Universal and the Magic Kingdom during a week in Orlando with Sage. People live to 100 these days, right? And if anyone can do it these tech-savvy jetsetters can.

Sometimes I think I’d like to go first and then there’d be no suffering, no emptiness, no pain 100 times worse than a boyfriend ditching you. I’m selfish but not that selfish. My parents don’t deserve to feel what I’m terrified to feel. Neither does Sage. She needs her parents for her own eternity and I would never want her to want to die before me. I just have to grasp that what will evolve is part of life; inescapable, tragic and tearful. That we did all we could do- are doing all that we can- for this temporal existence and nothing was missed.