An Uninvited Stranger
Dear Beloved Clients, Readers, and Community,
Two weeks ago, on October 29th, 2021, an uninvited stranger came knocking at my door.
It was at the tail end of leading my Autumn Cleanse with 53 beautiful souls, all taking positive steps toward supporting their health. The knock came at a time in my life when I feel joyful, fulfilled, and connected. I just turned 50 years old.
I’d had a huge awakening as an artist and had just shown my mosaic art at several shows. I’d found a rhythm of working on my mosaics in my studio and working with my clients as a health coach. Two passions that bring great purpose to my life, and offer a nice balance of engaging hand/heart/head/service. Plus, I’d been enjoying good health, a loving husband, travel, good friendships, lots of nature.
I’d been through difficult times in life – the loss of my family, relationship difficulties, depression, feeling stuck – but this year, I’ve been feeling so grateful for life.
Then, the knock.
Cancer.
WTF?
The Lump
Out of the blue, I found a lump in my breast in late September. I scheduled a diagnostic mammogram for the earliest available date, October 12, our wedding anniversary. I admit I bitched to friends about having to drive all the way to Sterling, VA and back in rush hour traffic for this.
The mammogram showed three suspicious masses and the radiologist said she wanted to have me do a biopsy on two of them. I was still not too worried; after all 75% of biopsies come back benign. But then that evening, I saw a message from my GP in my patient portal:
“Janice, so sorry to hear this. I got this note from the receptionist today: I got an urgent call from Dr. X from WA Radiology. The patient came in today for her Mammogram and is suspected of having Breast Cancer. She is suggesting if you can write a request for a Right Breast ultrasound biopsy x 2.”
What?
October 12, evening.
That is the moment my heart skipped a few beats, the blood drained from my face, and I felt a hole in my stomach.
Why would the radiologist call my GP after the mammo and ultrasound to say I had suspected breast cancer?? And why on earth would my GP forward those words to me in the patient portal?
Waiting
Between the mammogram and getting the results of the biopsy was 16 days.
During that time, I made a mosaic. I call it Three Lumps and a Long-Ass Wait.
Making this mosaic saved me during this time. It occupied my hands and my mind and gave me a positive way to focus my energy. Thank Goodness for mosaic making!!
In this piece, I included my 3 lumps, and I brought love and light to the right breast using 24k gold smalti (a special kind of glass).
I put many symbolic pieces in it to help me process my emotions during the wait. I used broken ceramics given to me by different people in my community. Feeling held by the love of my community.
Diagnosis
Fast forward. I got the biopsy. I waited a full week for the results of the biopsy.
[More delayed and botched communications, including my GP calling me to discuss the biopsy report from the radiologist on the evening of October 28 without having read it first, and assuming that I had already heard the news. I had not. She skimmed through it for several minutes while Dan and I waited on speaker phone. Three. Long. Minutes. Then she told me, “It looks like you have cancer in both breasts." Hmm...., maybe read that again? I only had a biopsy on one breast.]
And then I finally got the call from the radiologist on Friday, October 29:
Poorly differentiated Invasive Ductal Carcinoma in the Right Breast.
A few days later, more pathology reports trickled in from the biopsy:
High proliferation rate, Grade 3, aggressive fast-growing cancer.
Estrogen-receptor positive. Progesterone-receptor positive. HER2 positive. (Triple positive, as they say.)
That was two weeks ago. At that time, I didn't know what any of those words meant.
The Scramble
In the last two weeks, I’ve experienced every emotion under the sun. Anger. Fear. Overwhelm. Shock. Exhaustion. Sleeplessness at 3 in the morning. Sadness. Confusion. Helplessness. Bewilderment. Wanting to walk away from all this, followed by fierce determination to beat this cancer down and to live. Resistance to what life is presenting right now. Hellooooooooo, Resistance! More overwhelm. More exhaustion. And also, from somewhere, strength.
Many thoughts have run through my head these past two weeks. Left to their own devices to run rampant, they often circle back to….
“Why is this happening?”
“What did I do to cause this?”
“This isn't fair.” (After my mom died of heart disease and my dad died of cancer when I was in my 30s, I changed my career and have spent the last decade doing everything I can to prevent chronic illness and to support others with their health.)
“Why why why why why why? “Why is this happening?”
“I don’t want this!!!” (This one was on repeat like a thousand times.)
“How do I make this go away? I do not want this uninvited stranger in my body, in my heart, in my life, taking over all my waking and sleeping thoughts. I want my old life back.”
Also, some steady and helpful thoughts too. "One day at a time. We'll get through this."
Overnight, our lives changed.
Everything in our very full lives moved to the back burner. We cancelled other responsibilities, began to inform people. Cancer is not very convenient, I gotta say.
With my beloved hug-warrior husband by my side, I have spent pretty much all of the last two weeks trying to research and understand this sub-type of breast cancer, understand the words in the pathology report and what they mean, and choose a medical team and a plan of action.
I’ve seen a doctor or had a test almost every single day over the last two weeks. MRI, Ultrasound, echocardiogram, blood tests, genetic test. Met with a surgeon, medical oncologist, second opinion oncologist to discuss clinical trial with less harsh drugs, then back to the first oncologist. Met an acupuncturist who specializes in oncology. I'm meeting a radiation oncologist tomorrow.
Dan’s colleague who had been through breast cancer with his wife 10 years ago told us that the period between diagnosis and the beginning of treatment is the hardest. This period of trying to put a medical team together and make big decisions about a treatment plan has been excruciating.
It’s happened VERY fast, and I am a slow person, a slow processor. I need time to integrate my thoughts and feelings and experiences and allow guidance to slowly bubble up from my gut to make sure I’m making the right decision. There just hasn’t been the luxury of time.
The oncologist said this is the most aggressive sub-type of breast cancer; without the chemo, there’s a good chance of the cancer returning. With the chemo, surgery, radiation, and other treatments, there’s a good chance I can be cancer-free.
I’m a holistic health person. I like to use natural medicines. I have very rarely taken drugs and am fearful of the side effects, especially with chemo drugs.
Am I making the right decision? Am I getting enough opinions and from the right people? Can’t I just do surgery? Can’t I wait a couple months to decide? (Hit replay on that tape about 100 times.)
More than once, I said to my husband, Dan, I can’t do this anymore. I’m overwhelmed and exhausted. I want to be done with cancer.
And yet, I’m doing it. We're doing it. One moment at a time. Everyday we make a little progress.
The Plan
I have decided on a course of treatment with my oncologist that will take about one year. 18 weeks of chemo, beginning two days from now, on Tuesday, November 16. Then surgery (lumpectomy or mastectomy still TBD). Then radiation. Then hormone blockers for 5 years.
I do not like doctor visits or medical stuff at all. Okay, that’s the understatement of the year. I admit I am scared – terrified -- of the chemo. If you ask Dan what I’m like when I don’t feel well, he’ll say I’m a big baby, and he’s right.
I think one reason I have tried so hard to take care of my health with nutrition, exercise, meditation, supplements, and stress relief is so I can avoid an illness like this and stay out of the medical world.
Two days ago, I was FREAKED OUT. I called my good friend and cried on the phone and told her I was so scared and I just wanted my mom and dad. She listened and soothed me, and I let my tears flow freely, cleansing my body and releasing a lot of pent-up stress.
Today, I am having an excellent day. Imagine that, an excellent day! I got a good night’s sleep finally, which helps everything. I walked outside with my good friend, and felt the warmth of sisterhood and connection that you only get from good women friends. I got outside and saw the beautiful yellow and orange Fall leaves.
By the magic of the universe, in this moment, I feel peaceful, strong, centered, positive, clear, and ready to take the next step on this journey. I’m writing this down now, to remember that these positive feelings occur too. May I make room for all the feelings.
It’s going to be a journey. A journey of the lowest lows and the highest highs and everything in between.
This is life. Please, Universe, may I embrace all of it.
Finally, I made a decision about treatment. Finally, a moment to breathe. I am resting now in this liminal space. The space between the decision and the beginning of treatment.
Four days.
Not quite enough time to jet off to Hawaii and swim in the warm ocean waters. But enough time to sit and finally write this down with the first clear head I’ve experienced in two weeks. To sip tea. To enjoy a walk outside.
A Prayer
(also known as: AFGO)
Today I am feeling grateful. I have love in my life. A loving and supportive husband and am surrounded by caring and loving friends.
Already, I have received so much love and support and cards and care packages and poems both funny and touching. I’m truly blessed.
With love, my community, the healing power of nature, my mosaic art practice, and some sort of inner strength that we all find when we need it most, I will get through cancer. Here is my prayer to the Universe.
May this experience serve my awakening. Wake up, Janice!
May it allow me to somehow help other people on their journey.
May I approach this time of illness and recovery with curiosity:
Why is this illness here? What can I learn from this? How can I grow from it?
What is the purpose of living that’s worth fighting for though the suffering?
Life is short and precious. How can I be more me?
May I keep my heart open and tender and soft (even when it’s hard and I feel miserable)?
May I be blessed with equanimity; may I feel peace at the rising and passing of all things.
May I be vulnerable and let people in, and use this experience to deepen connection with others, and with myself.
May I allow this experience to be here, and embrace life as it is.
May I savor life, and live it to the fullest – not later after all these shit-buckets of treatment are over, but right now, in the present moment?
I am learning, again: we are indeed interdependent. I need so much help now, from doctors, nurses, family, friends, community. May I learn to accept help and also be helpful to others.
May I have patience. I’m not so good with that one.
May I approach this with humor. (Please Humor, come visit our home often! Sometimes, it’s the only way forward.)
Thankfully, I have my husband next to my side. He makes me laugh and gives me CTFO tea when I’m anxious. (That’s Chill the F*ck Out tea, in case you’ve never had it before.)
May I have the courage to be real.
May I be blessed with the strength of my parents, Marcia and Harvey Levitt. They suffered a lot and were strong and brave and courageous warriors in the face of illness and death.
May I be blessed with the grace and positive outlook of Rebecca Fox, a true inspiration to me.
May I channel this experience into my art and make some kick-ass mosaics that will bring healing to the world. (Jeeze, Universe, you could have given me a different prompt to use.)
And may I come out on the other side with more wisdom, joy, strength, vitality, connection, and with more to give to others.
Friends, thanks for listening, for witnessing, for your love and strength.
Here goes.
Buckets of LOVE to all of you reading this far….
Janice