“Health is the greatest possession. Contentment is the greatest wealth. Confidence is the best friend. ~ Lao Tzu
When dealing with a serious health issue or life challenge, we can choose to move through it into the light, or bury ourselves in the darkness. While it’s not always easy to find the light, it’s an easier place to survive and, in the long run, healthier. This lifestyle has been helpful in my recent health journey.
Twice in the past twenty-three years, I received news of a breast cancer diagnosis. The two incidents are completely different and unrelated. This is my story and the importance of finding light in the face of adversity.
My first cancer diagnosis was in 2001, when I was forty-seven, received just days before the horrors of 9/11.
DCIS, an early form of breast cancer, was discovered through my annual mammogram. I had the option of having a lumpectomy and radiation therapy or a mastectomy and reconstruction. I chose the latter because I didn’t want to spend the next days, months, or even years worrying about a possible relapse. Additionally, radiation back then was more dangerous and not as refined and concentrated as it is today.
At the time, I was living in a small town in Florida and decided to travel to California to find the best doctors to treat this type of cancer. It’s not easy being separated from my three children under the age of eighteen. Ultimately, it was the right choice and ultimately led to my subsequent move to California, the place of my dreams. So sometimes going through difficult challenges can lead to something better.
After the surgery, my husband, Simon, and I spent two weeks in California before returning home to Florida. Since my diagnosis, I’ve slowly gotten used to the condition of my new body and continued to struggle with annual mammograms, watching my only breast being squashed by the two pieces of glass.
Tears streamed down my face at the loss of the breast that fed my three children. In meditation, I expressed gratitude for my life and my remaining breasts.
I try to bring light into my life whenever possible by engaging in self-care activities. I surround myself with loving and thoughtful people and try to stay connected with those who have a less positive attitude.
Five years later, during a routine blood test, I discovered I had multiple myeloma, a rare blood cancer that affects plasma cells. In short, it turns healthy cells into unhealthy cells.
I had no symptoms at the time but was told I would need blood tests every three months to make sure the condition didn’t get worse and that there was a chance I would need this incurable type of treatment in the future.
The fear of enduring another cancer got the better of me, and I researched the best integrative doctors in Los Angeles to help me navigate this new territory. For eighteen years, my myeloma had been in what’s called a “smoldering” state because I had no symptoms, but my blood tests still showed high protein levels—a sign that the disease was present.
I swallowed a handful of vitamins every day to prevent the disease from getting worse. I met and consulted with the best doctors and researchers at the Mayo Clinic and Cedars-Sinai Hospital in Los Angeles. I was told that everyone’s situation is different, but at some point, treatment is inevitable.
My second breast cancer diagnosis came in 2024, shortly before I celebrated my seventieth birthday. I was feeling great and a few months away from my scheduled annual mammogram, I discovered that my right nipple was inverted.
Mammograms, biopsies, and MRIs show lobular breast cancer, which is more aggressive than DCIS. I ended up having another mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. Much to my chagrin, I also needed radiation therapy. Thankfully, because my Onco DX score (a score from 0 to 100 indicating the likelihood of breast cancer coming back) was a low 9, I didn’t need chemotherapy.
I am not generally a fearful person, although I am prone to depression and suppressed emotions. The whole experience reminded me of my first experience with breast cancer, along with growing fear and sadness.
Once again, I had to adapt to my new personal bodyscape, with implants replacing my real breasts. Surgery has changed a lot in the twenty-three years since my last surgery, and recovery seems to be getting easier.
However, the radiation exhausted me. In addition to having shrink wrap wrapped around my new breasts, I was exhausted during the six weeks of radiation treatments, five days a week.
Unfortunately, during my stay in the hospital for my second mastectomy and reconstruction, my hemoglobin dropped significantly. This signaled to my doctor that my myeloma might be becoming active.
They ordered a bone marrow biopsy and found that 90% of my bone marrow had cancer cells. This is shocking news. My oncologist has been recommending treatment to prevent progression, but I have declined, saying I would rather wait until symptoms develop.
He was very patient with me and wanted to do it my way, combining Eastern and Western medicine, mostly because he knew every case was different and he respected my intuition about my body. However, he did tell me that one day he would say I had no choice but to start treatment, but unfortunately, it has arrived. He suggested I recover from the surgery before starting.
The drop in hemoglobin made me feel unusually tired. I’ve always been an active person, hiking a lot and working out with a trainer, so not having energy is very difficult for me, and being active is also a way to ward off depression.
I’ve always been an advocate of listening to my body, and now I feel like my body is telling me it’s time to get treatment, which includes weekly injections at the hospital and some medication to take at home to combat any side effects.
Up to this point I had never really understood the concept of “chemo brain,” but I definitely felt like I couldn’t think clearly. It challenged my lifelong passion for writing and creating.
I decided to continue to listen to my body—rest when I rest, and move when I move.
Over the course of my three cancers, I went from being angry at my body for putting me through this to respecting the temple that kept me alive. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I can’t be that productive, and spending a day with one or all of my six grandchildren is more healing than writing any article or book.
All in all, my therapy has many levels – emotional, mental and physical. Coupled with the fact that I had incurable cancer that would likely require lifelong treatment, I was extremely depressed.
I decided I couldn’t cope on my own without the help of antidepressants, which would just keep my head above water. I want to thrive and just need a little support.
I stay sane by following self-care practices, many of which I used when I was younger and during challenging times in my life, such as writing, meditating, listening to music, exercising, and connecting with friends.
There is one song that has inspired the way I live my life and that is the song “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor. The lyrics became my mantra.
Cancer survivors can have many faces. We may have a public face or a private face. True healing and recovery depend on the support of loved ones and trusted medical professionals.
My doctors were extremely caring and kind, and I will never forget what my first oncologist said when he diagnosed me: “If this experience doesn’t fascinate you, nothing will. You never will Look at life the same way.
My oncologist’s words continued to echo in my mind. From a physical perspective, I can acknowledge and accept that my body will never look or feel the same. I look in the mirror every day and am constantly reminded of my journey. Even though I looked better when I was clothed, when I stripped down, I couldn’t escape the fact that I had breast cancer—and I had the scars to prove it.
I could hide under clothes, under the covers, or in the closet, but in the shower and during sex, I couldn’t hide, so I taught myself to accept my new transformed body.
They say scars give us character, and I have always tried to convince myself of the truth of this assumption. I told myself the scars didn’t matter, what mattered was that I survived, even though when I heard the doctor’s words, I just wanted to hide.
As survivors, we go through many emotions, but ultimately, I believe in the old adage: “When bad things happen, good things happen.” I’ve learned the importance of focusing on life’s priorities.
As mentioned earlier, I came to realize that my writing grounded me, made me happy, and helped me survive. I also know that I need to surround myself with people who make me feel good about myself and provide healing energy.
I think this is what intuitively happens when you confront your own mortality – you try not to let into your life those people who drain you of the life force that is so vital to your own healing. For me, doing this makes me feel like I’m strengthening my mind’s natural defense mechanisms.
I have always been a productive person, and my first cancer diagnosis gave me a new sense of urgency to continue my writing practice and share my words and passion with the universe.
While writing my latest memoir, I made a conscious effort to relax and remind myself not to overdo it. When I’m able to fit these forms of therapy into my schedule, I make sure to meditate and exercise every day, and get massage and/or acupuncture.
I decided to be grateful for my life and all the things I took for granted, like my family, friends, home, and the time I was able to spend in nature. Given that I have dedicated my life to caring for others (I trained as a registered nurse), I decided to turn that compassion inward and practice more self-care. I’ve been putting other people’s needs first for years, so it feels good to show gratitude and kindness to myself.
Of course, when we are diagnosed with a disease like cancer, the possibility of recurrence is always at the forefront of our minds – but we can’t predict the future, so we can only do the best we can and be kind to ourselves and others. .
I told myself over and over again that cancer was no longer welcome in my life. I realized that as long as I continued to love, I would thrive, and as psychic Sonia Choquet said, “When you name it, you get it.” I name it. Be in the light. This is my choice.
