The tightrope

Every morning, I wake up and walk the line to the bathroom (as most people do), but two years ago, when I was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer, the line became a tightrope.

My balance became very important to me as the cancer has spread to my bones, making them vulnerable to falls. On one side of my tightrope, I see the end goal of “living well,” and on the other side of my tightrope, I see the end goal of “dying well.” Every day, I try to hold both concepts tightly, knowing that a fall could affect my end game.

What does it mean to me to “live well?” I started working “tax-contributing” jobs when I was 15 and worked until I was 59 (with three years off for parenting, school, cancer treatment, and travel.) So, I feel like it’s okay for me to do the things I enjoy in my retirement. That means I spend my days with friends, reading, writing, playing mindless games on my phone, watching television, entertaining friends, dancing, visiting my grandkids (and my kids), cooking, baking, and several other “fun” things. I’m blessed to be able to surround myself with people who enjoy many of the same things I enjoy and people who radiate positive energy. I’ve gradually eliminated negative-energy “radiators,” and find each day filled with happiness and joy!

Another aspect of “living well” for me is intense celebrations of a life well-enjoyed. My first celebration, in August of 2022, was one of the happiest days of my life. Many people came to celebrate ME which reinforced how many blessings I’ve been granted since July 10,1959.

Because my quarterly scans have been “stable” (meaning no spreading of cancer), I’ve decided to “step up” my “living well” with more parties.

I had my second celebration of life yesterday, and it was part of my “dying well” regimen. What is the most important thing we feel when we’re dying? My answer is, “It’s important for me to know that I was loved and that I made a difference by being here.”

Another important part of my “dying well,” regimen was finding a support group that lifted my spirits and was willing to dialog honestly about our unique journeys. I’ve found that support group through the Commonweal organization based in California. I’m part of a Zoom support group called a “healing circle” that meets twice a month. We’re comprised of four members with terminal diagnoses and three facilitators who are certified “death doulas.” It’s such a gift to meet with these people and discuss our mortality and what it’s teaching us. These precious people have taught me more than I could ever have learned on my own. But I think what I appreciate most is the positivity present in the spirit of these seven souls. Our group is called, “Dying without the elephant (in the room)” and we have recognized many feelings of struggle, resilience, pains, anticipations, dreads, and tolerances, but mostly appreciation, happiness, euphoria, and acceptance.

What gifts could possibly be associated with any terminal illnesses?  Well, THAT is what I really want you to pay attention to in this message.

Let me share with you the gifts I’ve discovered in the last two and a half years:

• I get to tell my friends and family how much I love them and how much I will miss them.
• I get to apologize for things I may have done to hurt others.
• I get to thank people for being in my life, for helping to create who I am, and for the part they played in my awesome life experiences.
• I get to deliberate for days, weeks, or months about special gifts that I want to buy for friends and family to help them remember and feel close to me for the rest of their lives.
• I get to tell people I love them as much as I want to. My days are numbered and it makes sense for me to put those words out there as much as possible.
• I get to focus on the legacy I want to leave behind, including books so my family can read my “crazy stories” for many years to come.
• I get to choose how I want my death to be and choose who will surround me as I embrace this sacred transition.
• I get to have really awesome parties to celebrate who I am with people who actually like me.
• I get to model to my world a way to die well and maybe help alleviate the fear of dying for others.
• I get to have fun just doing the things I’m doing (traveling, spending time with grandkids, lots of lunches with people I love).
• Every moment with my soulmate Michael is special, and we try to mindfully appreciate those moments as they happen.
• I get to say “no” to anything and people are okay with that.
• I get to connect with others who are terminally ill and have conversations that lift my spirit and connect me to the core of others
• I get to prepare my spirit energy for something bigger and better!

Perhaps the most important thing I’m doing is trying to spend as much time as I can with my five grandchildren. I want to live long enough for them all to remember me.

In 2022, after I was diagnosed, I spent an entire week home alone grieving. I walked (stomped at times) around the house sobbing and wailing, rested for a bit, then did more of the same.

But the tightrope appeared, and I realized I was about to learn and experience things that I would never have experienced without my diagnosis. Then one day, it became clear that a new balance was necessary in my life.

For that, I’m incredibly thankful! As I walk the line back from the bathroom each morning to my bed (usually to cuddle more with my soulmate), I know that when I get up to begin my day, I will walk my tightrope of balance.