Damaged Goods

As with many diseases, cancer can leave you feeling like damaged goods. In my case, I had half of my tongue removed, skin removed from my arm to replace the tongue, skin removed from my leg to replace the skin from my arm, lymph nodes from the right side of my neck removed, a trachea implanted to that I could breath and a feeding tube so that I could eat. Of course as time went by the trachea was removed, but left a divot looking scar on my throat that moves up and down when I swallow, also the feeding tube was removed as I was able to swallow on my own and begin eating. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months the healing continued. My focus is no longer on having cancer or even having had cancer. All of this came at an unfortunate time for me. I was busy working on my sexy by fifty plan. The diet had worked and I had a new found swagger. I was on track, with two years to go to perfect my physical body. The universe, however, had other plans for me and one day I discovered the tumor in my tongue. The only lingering side effect is some difficult in speaking clearly all of the time. Granted I have re-mastered most of the English language, I still have great difficulty with words ending in LLS. Walls, balls, falls....They end us sounding like waas, baas, etc. Certain accents are considered sexy, but speech impediments, not so much. 

For me it all came down to this, what is sexy and is it important? Can I be sexy? Who knows? Do I want to do the work (which could include some plastic surgery)? And who's idea of sexy am I pursuing anyway? The GQ model idea of sexy? The guy next door? Aren't I more that that? I am a survivor. I am tough and capable and loving. Shouldn't I be content with that? I have a loving and amazing partner in my life who seems pretty happy to show up and be with me just as I am. Can I find contentment in that?

All of these ideas were challenged recently, when I met a big girl in a tiny body. I had dropped by the SPCA store to buy shampoo for my dogs and decided to go and give a little love to the residents at the shelter. As I stepped into cottage two, I saw her for the first time. She was just a tiny little thing with huge round black eyes and a little button of a nose showing through her frowzy fur. She stood quietly on her hind legs and front paws on the bars of her cage. She had hope in her eyes, but it was plain to see that she knew most people would pass her by. She wasn't talented like the poodles that she shared a temporary home with. She didn't jump and walk on her hind legs begging for attention. Our eyes met and I lost my heart to her in that second! I went to say hi, but told myself that I was being stupid! I already had two dogs at home and didn't need a third. I took her picture anyway, to show my partner Ken later. With that I left her behind. What I didn't know, is that I had taken a piece of her with me. The feel of her tongue on my fingers, the hope in her eyes. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I showed Ken the photo and he declared that it was my birthday week and if I wanted another dog, he was cool with the idea. (I should mention that we did have at one time three dogs. One of them had passed away from stomach cancer this past year. It left a hole in our hearts but our other two dogs, seemed to be much happier with it being just the two of them). Finally on my birthday, we got up and went to a museum but left early to go and "just say hi" to her.

We took her out for a visitation and the image that I will always hold in my heart is my partner Ken carefully holding her. Ken is a big guy and he held her like she could just break at any second. His eyes were filled with love and concern and she looked at him with the same hope that she looked at me with.  The spell would be broken though, when we were informed that she had "serious medical issues" and needed to speak to her representative. We did and found out that she would have to have surgery. I was originally told by a volunteer that it was hip surgery. A friend of my had gone through that last year and ended up spending thousands of dollars only to end of having her dog put down as it could not handle the pain afterwards. I knew I couldn't handle that not to mention that we are still paying my medical bills and should not be acquiring more debt. It was a good decision I thought. I was using my head an not my heart. I should be proud. On the way home I asked Ken how he was doing and he quickly replied "fine". Matter solved! That was a Saturday and by Monday morning I realized that the matter was far from solved. What if they put her down? That was the way things were going. We had been told that everyone who looked at her passed because of the expense involved. I was in a panic! The SPCA was closed on Monday and Tuesdays and it is basically impossible to get anyone on the phone during those days. I also found out that Ken was not "fine". He was suffering from the remorse of walking away from her, just as I was. He reveled that he didn't talk all of the way home because he didn't want to cry. If you knew Ken, that is a big thing. This is a man that doesn''t cry. We have been together for over twelve years and I have only seen him cry about three times, so knowing that he was about to shed some tears was really saying a lot!

I camped out at the gates of the SPCA on Wednesday morning with a list of questions that Ken and I had gone over. What we wanted was to take her to our vet and get some idea of the expense involved. Of course that wasn't possible I was told but I could adopt her and get a full refund within 30 days. Yeah, that's gonna happen, I thought to myself. Like I could ever bring her back. Then, good news arrived, I spoke with the vet as the SPCA and found out that she had a "luxating patella". Basically it was her knee and not her hip. For some reason it didn't sound as bad and as frightening. The truth was though, it was already too late. When I got to the "pound" that morning there was no way that I wasn't going to adopt her. She was like me, she was damaged goods. The difference was that no-one had walked by me. My life is rich with family and friends and the most amazing man, that I am fortunate enough to spend my life with. There was never a question that when diagnosed with cancer I wouldn't be taken care of, because I was loved. There could be no question that she wouldn't be taken care of either. I filled out the adoption papers and brought my dogs to meet her. They didn't kill her (in fact they sort of ignored her) so it was agreed that this would be a good fit and she could come home with us. She still had to be neutered so we picked her up the following day.

We named her Ginger, and what I can tell you is that she takes my breath away every time I look at her. Maybe it's her small size and maybe it's the way she looks at me. I don't know. What I do know, is that she is not in the least concerned about her knee. She is an amazing dog who is loving, yet stands up for herself. She is a daily reminder that I am not damaged goods. I might not have all the same parts I started off in this world with, but I am me and that is quite enough for her. And like her, I don't see a crippled dog when I look at her (and neither would you, she shows no sighs of her leg bothering her, except occasionally missing a step). Ironically, I no longer see a damaged man when I look in the mirror. I see a strong survivor, a good person and something that brings me even greater joy, I see Gingers Dad!

Prepare for Impact

In life we never really know, just who is going to have an impact on our lives. Who will love us, hate us, hurt us, it's all a waiting game. This subject is on my mind after sharing a wonderful lunch with Laura. To merely call her a friend would be to grossly undersell the relationship. I met Laura through Weight Watchers, when she filled in for my regular meeting leader. I remember liking her style. Later, when I had become a receptionist for Weight Watchers I was able to work with her in a few meetings. Later, still, when I had put some of my weight back on, I started attending her meetings. Yes, she did help me loose some weight, but the impact came later, when I was diagnosed with cancer. Laura was literally one of the first people who showed up for me. A cancer survivor herself, she knew well the journey that I was about to undertake and selflessly gave of herself and experience. She introduced me to others that would become a core part of my journey that I called my survivors group. Laura also introduced me to the Cancer Support Community of South Bay, where I attend my group meetings. Laura was never asked to do these things, she just did them out of love. It was a great lesson for me. There are people out there that will just love you, no strings attached. This, I believe is true for all of us. I am grateful for her friendship and partnership in my journey. I am also keenly aware that my time to give back is here. Just holding onto love does nothing and no one any good, we have to give it back to the world, let it flow, grow and come back to us. That is the impact of true friendship.

I write about it today, because I wonder who along the way, I might have loved, learned from, had I not rejected them. We all do it, turn a blind eye to the homeless person, roll our eyes at the kids in Starbucks, change lanes at the grocery store because we think that the person in front of us is about to use food stamps and take up our precious time. But without others is our time really that precious? What if we asked the crazy kid at the coffee shop what they were drinking and discovered something new? What if we gave a dollar to the homeless occasionally or bought them a meal, or maybe sat with them and listened to their story. Wouldn't that time be well spent? For those of us (and yes, I include myself in this) who watch TV daily, wouldn't our time be more rewarding being out in life instead of watching a falsification of life? What would happen if everyone gave up two hours of television a week and did volunteer work? How would our communities be impacted?

I remember attending several funerals over the years. Some big, some small, but the one I really remember the most is my Grandfathers. The love that poured out of everyone there for him. And why? He himself was loving, and inclusive. Everyone was welcome at his house. I seriously doubt if he ever met anyone he didn't like. At the end of his life, I could see that it was a life well lived. I stood there proud to be his Grandson. His loving nature impacted me in a way that still makes me want to give back today, what more can I say.

After the battle with cancer, I got to reclaim my life, but more importantly, I got to choose the type of life that I want to live. That is a gift that cancer can give you if you are open to receiving it. The gift to finally stop what you are doing and really examine things. What is important and what you want. It gives you the time to prepare for impact. You just have to be willing to look away from the pain to see and feel the good.

The age of acceptance

We are all going to die....eventually. That is what logic tells us. As we age we see many examples of it. Family members and friends die, pets die, plants die and we know so will we....eventually. We accept that fact and file it firmly into the back of our thoughts, trying not to dislodge it. We fight off death by trying to look younger, to feel younger, to dress younger, beat our cancer and other diseases, but it still looms on the horizon that we will all travel to....eventually.

I have a birthday coming up, so as I am apt to do each year I search for the latest and greatest anti aging creams and techniques. I remember to moisturize and mask. I think about asking for Strivectin for my birthday (a sure sign that I am getting older, when I was younger, I would have been happy with a blow job). Today while shopping for something with a stronger retinol base, it occurred to me that I never once thought that my Grandmother or Grandfather needed to look younger. They were perfect just the way they were (even if my Step Mom and maybe even my Dad might disagree with me on that one). They were the closest thing to unconditional love that I have ever experienced. And no they did not always like everything I did, but they always liked and loved me for who I was. I kept thinking about this on the way home after purchasing nothing from the anti aging section, and realized that I have never heard any of my friends say God, my Grandma looks old, she really could use some work. And no one ever says "Good grief, Grandpa, you need to get your self back in the gym". It seems to me that the modern day therapy of parenting our inner child, is a generation off. What we really need is to Grand Parent our inner children. I could use a strong does of unconditional love, and I'd also kill for some of my Grandpa's "Takkas" (he was actually saying taco's, but that was the way he pronounced it. I can not bring myself to call them mere taco's now as it would feel like insulting my Grandfather's culinary genius. Sadly the recipe died with him, much like the unconditional love that I know my whole family experienced from this special man).

Back to my point, isn't about time that we all loved our self unconditionally? What would it feel like to love more than to judge especially ourselves? I don't really know right now, but this year for my birthday, this is the gift I want. Just to love. Myself and everyone that I come in contact with. I want to love the wrinkles that I have earned over the years from smiling. I want to love the frown lines that I have earned from thinking. In short, I want to embrace and love the wisdom that I have acquired in my time here on the planet.  And then, of course, I want some more time, and what the heck, I'll take some Strivectin too!

How Did This Happen?

We pray, we watch our diets, we do as we're instructed by our doctors, all in order to regain our precious health. As it returns, however, it is not uncommon for those of us recovering from any disease, to reclaim our human-ness. We forget to pray, or meditate one day and then the next. The piles of green vegetables that we have been eating go bad in our refrigerators, while we snack instead on taquitos and sweets. I walked the dogs, that should be enough exercise pops into our heads. In short we grab for the lives we once lived. I'm human and fallible. We need to remember, though, that we are human and fragile. I know first hand how easy it is to loose the connection to God, to forget daily prayers and the connection with the divine. I lived that way for years. I also, in spite of a base diet that is very healthy managed to snack on junk food. I never met a taco, I didn't love, or a beignet for that matter!

So here I have been these last several months focusing on my return to health. An amazing partner at my side, reading and studying all he can about cancer and diet so that we can live without my having a repeat episode. His badgering me with "really? Is that cancer killing ice cream?" And me just wanting to live. My taste buds have come back and ironically my sense of smell is even more sensitive than prior to the cancer and with that comes and even improved sense of taste. I stopped juicing, on a daily basis, and started visiting my local taco shop more often. In fact I started eating out a lot and stopped cooking at home. My salt intake soared. In the mornings I would wake up and my face and tongue would be swollen and  restricted. I stopped practicing my vocal exercises on a daily basis. (ok, I was never good about doing them daily, but I somehow stopped all together).

Suddenly, I was watching my body change. How could I be 150 and look fat? Then it was 155 still looking fat. Had I lost that much muscle? Prior to my cancer, I had trimmed down from 170 something to 155 and was looking good. I gained some weight prior to surgery because I was warned that I would loose approximately 15 lbs while undergoing radiation. When all was said and done, I finished my radiation at 140 lbs. Since that day I have slowly watched pound by pound my weight creep up and up. Motivated by an annual trip, I realized that I had to do something. I had to get back on my healthy eating plan. I had to accept that I was human and pretty much the same human that I was prior to cancer. I had to go within and find the strength and motivation. Like so many of us who have had to battle their weight, there is also an underlying factor. We need to do it in order to regain our maximum health. For those of us battling and surviving cancer there is also a much greater need to do it, we have to prevent the cancer from returning. You would think this last reason alone would be enough to keep all of us survivors on the straight and narrow, but it's not.

So what happens? Do we just give up? No! We start to live! Life is amazing. It feels good. Indulging feels good. We forget how good the perfect weight feels on our bones. Just like forgetting to say our prayers. Yet we find that remembering to say our prayers, to stay connected directs us to wanting to stay healthy. It just feels better. I started my healthy eating plan and in just a few days, I had the energy I had prior to cancer. I have been a white tornado around the house. Just a few minutes of meditation and some good food, can surprise you. I suddenly have enough time in the day to do what I need to do and want to do and what Ken wants me to do. Will I hit my goal weight and revert to my bad habits? I'd like to think not, but the reality is that is an option. Just as loosing our connection with God is an option. It just isn't the best option and one that we can control. So I have to set up reminders, have stricter guidelines of how much weigh gain is acceptable (the number is not 20 lbs!). Most of all, I need to remember how wonderful it feels to live fully. No food or diversion can ever take the place of that. I just have to remember. I just have to listen to the people in my life who remind me of that. Say, wasn't it not listening that got me here in the first place?