If you are reading this blog, then you know Missy. And as you have read through her posts over the last few months, you REALLY got to know Missy: her tenacity, her compassion and the fierceness of her britches.
She has always exhibited daring and unbridled enthusiasm in everything she does. There is nothing mundane about the way she approaches even mundane tasks. It’s a voyage that makes this day different from every other day – and that is really how life should be lived.
Finding out about her cancer in December – and several subsequent setbacks – has brought an even greater fierceness, an even greater determination, an even greater Missy. It was just four months ago that the idea of cancer even entered the picture and just a little over three months since Missy was diagnosed with malignant pancreatic cancer. In some ways, it seems like just yesterday, and sometimes a WHOLE lot longer. With the news of each setback, the next few days dragged on as we shifted or canceled plans, and learned to push the new reality to the top priority.
Talk about each day being different than the one before.
But in a strange way, every day was also so much richer than the previous one. We learned a whole lot more about medicine and surgery, about love and priorities, about how just sitting quietly with someone can be the best prescription.
Several people have asked me what I thought about Missy’s blog, and to be honest, I had not even begun to read it until last week. To me it was re-living bad news and tough chemo days, re-spending Christmas Day with Missy so sick from chemo that she just laid on the bathroom floor to feel better. To Cleveland sports fan, I felt it was like re-living “the Drive,” “the Fumble” and a couple of 11th innings of Game 7’s that I’d rather forget about. Our Buffalo friends can substitute “wide right” or “no goal”, and you get something totally etched in your memory that you will NEVER forget, that you painfully remember every second of. But since I started reading the blog, it is my go-to inspirational tale.
Through this all, we have seen such an extraordinary capacity of giving and selflessness in so many people that have been on this journey with us. The people at Levine Cancer Institute are the most amazing and committed people we have ever met. Not all cancer tales are like Missy’s. In fact, she is in a very small percentage of people with pancreatic cancer who are even eligible for the whipple surgery. The people at LCI come to work each day with their fierce pants and hopeful smiles. And it makes a huge difference to be greeted with that optimism, compassion and professionalism. It is the first step to owning your cancer not as victim but as a cancer-slayer. The folks at LCI have answered a calling with grace and grit.
One thing about your wife having cancer is that you notice the word on the wall of hospitals and clinics. In fact, it’s all you see. You know how when you buy a new car, you start seeing that model all over the place. Same thing. Every wall of a medical center, every other commercial on TV, every article you read, it’s the first thing that strikes you.
The giving and selflessness of friends, family, neighbors, co-workers and even strangers really taught us about priorities and what we should really get stressed out about and what is just a small annoyance in the big picture. From my caregiver side of things, the friends and neighbors saying let’s go to a basketball game or just go have a beer and chill out away from the cancer for a few hours has meant the world to me. I know you can’t run and can’t hide from the cancer, but I have really treasured an hour or two away. So many people have brought food, said prayers, just come by to say hi to Missy that it was overwhelming at times. Too much goodness. Well, that was how it felt at first, but since then the abundance of love and caring has multiplied into energy and fierceness, and it has contributed so much to Missy’s positive attitude going into surgery and her rapid discharge from the hospital after her surgery.
One group of people who have been so powerful to associate with have been other cancer patients and caregivers. It’s a different camaraderie than friends and co-workers. It’s not even like being players on the same team. It’s more than that. March 8th’s caregiver/patient event was truly spiritual. Mostly winners, but some who had suffered losses of spouses or have been battling cancer for years but kept the winning attitude.
March 8 was a tough day. Everything was getting extra-real with pre-op testing, surgery school and updating our wills with the attorney. Then we had the caregiver/cooking school. That was a real game-changer, not just on that day, but for everything. As we met all these new people having experienced cancer at all levels of severity and having gone through every imaginable level of treatment, something dawned on me. These people find a quiet space in this hectic world and their even more unpredictable cancer world. It’s a space where they control the only thing they can control. Their attitude. They’ve been picked up by a huge wave and slammed against the rocks, and found a way to surf that wave the next time. They’ve grabbed their spouses hand and jumped off a cliff without a chute and landed on their feet. They found immortality – with their attitude.
I have started going back to church. We had not gone to church a whole lot in the last few years, and I have never looked at going to church as a holier-than-thou thing or an evangelical thing, but as an hour of time to focus on what really matters in my life. You don’t need a physical church to do this, but it does help you to strip out distractions, think about what matters, and hear some words to help keep you thinking that way after the hour is over. When we first learned of the cancer, I told Missy I wanted to start going to church again, and she asked where did I want to go – knowing we didn’t see eye-to-eye on particular churches and their approach. I told her, “I don’t care whose phone booth I use to call God.” But it was time to make the call.
Church has been comforting and hopeful and reassuring, but in so many ways it led to the same place that the cancer caregiver/cooking school went. It’s fuel for an attitude, for positive decisions and for winning every day on every playing field.
The only thing I WILL be preachy about is that exercise needs to be added to this mix. There is nothing better for an attitude or commitment or hope than breaking a sweat, getting the heart rate up, and gaining a truly personal accomplishment. Exercise impacts only you and only in positive ways. Kind of a no-brainer. As we have gone through this, everyone has said to me, be sure to take care of yourself, too. That is easier said than done as you watch your wife suffer through chemo or you both hear about all the things that can go wrong with the surgery. It seems very selfish to want to go run a couple miles. Even though you know that you have to be at your best physically, mentally and spiritually to lend the right support, it seems selfish. But that exercise pays you both back many fold. A lesson to be learned when you’re not staring at cancer, too.
But enough about me. This blog post is entitled “A Special Kind of Remarkable” because of what I have seen Missy gain from and give to other people throughout the last four months. As the reality set in and Christmas plans in Louisville, attending the JDRF conference in San Francisco, going skiing in Utah, seeing our niece Grace in her first horse competition, and so many other events/plans take a back seat to the cancer, Missy kept plowing through these tough days and setbacks with a better and better attitude. And it wasn’t just her. She put the people at LCI on her shoulders and helped carry them through their tough days. She put smiles on our amazing doctors faces with attitude, humor and the occasional way-too-personal fact that made them blush. Did you know that talking about pubic hair (or the lack thereof) can make a renowned oncologist speechless?
The daring and unbridled enthusiasm, and the never two days alike that I mentioned at the start of this post not only has helped Missy get through this so far, but also friends, co-workers, family, and certainly me. Even on crappy days during chemo, there was always something unique, something to anticipate down the road that was different than the day before. I could easily see people mope and drag others down from day-to-day going through this, but she won’t let that happen on her healthiest day or her worse cancer day. It really is a special kind of remarkable which has always been what I have loved most about Missy.
A little edgy don’t you think!
So you want to know what we did this weekend to make it a great one – well a great surprise Friday night to spend a wonderful evening with the Lazarony and Kempisty girls filled with lots of laughs and ways to conquer the world. Dawn, Brook, Cari and Matka – the evening was perfect!
Saturday arrived with an early morning delivery from my sweet and kind friend Sakira – as she was completely her first half marathon, these beauties arrived – so lovely and such a treat to look at them over the next few days.
Later on in the day my sweet sissy spoiled me with a facial and some relaxation. Well…
the person who was doing my facial was…ready for it…DRUNK! Yep you heard me – completely traumatic between the bumping into the table every time she got up and dropping of the bottles, the constant chewing gum over my face and oh yes the large glass of wine she brought in for herself – hard to hide that! Oh and the deep tissue face massage was so brutal I had to come home and put ice on my face so it would not bruise – unreal but we did not let it dampen our wonderful time together.
fiercepants.com 