Beware of the "Are you crazy?" test question

This morning was a visit with a psychologist.  The same psychologist that I saw on the 7^th floor of the Ottawa General (my favourite place) a few weeks after my surgery.  At that time, she told me I had an anxiety disorder.  I really didn’t need another diagnosis then.  And I wanted to tell her that if she had just been diagnosed with cancer and had a tube sticking out of her, she might be a bit anxious herself.   She also told me to do some things like say the alphabet backwards and rock myself when I would feel anxious.  It didn’t really help, and I didn’t go back to see her.

 

At my last appointment with my specialist, though, a kindly nurse, talked to me afterwards and said, “Honey, I know how you feel. I had cancer 19 years ago, and I know what it’s like is to feel alone and not be able to think about anything else.”  She offered me an appointment with a psychologist.  I was hard pressed to say no.

 

Today, I reluctantly returned to the 7^th floor of the General to see the same psychologist. 

 

“What are you anxious about?” she asked me. 

 

“I am scared that my cancer will recur.”

 

“Do you believe that your cancer will recur?”  (This is the “Are you crazy?” question.  I recognized the tone from our last appointment.)

 

« No, I believe that my cancer could recur.” And I don’t hear voices talking to me, either.

 

I passed the test.  This time, she maintained that I don’t have an anxiety disorder and that I am, in fact, coping very well.  And it was nice to hear her say that it is normal for younger people (well, comparatively) with young children who have had cancer, even such an early stage one, to be more anxious.  And it was nice to be reminded that the probability of recurrence with such an early stage cancer is very low.  She said that the Ottawa General is liberal with the use of chemotherapy.  I would have been given it if my doctor hadn’t been confident.

 

“Would you buy a lottery ticket with 95 percent odds of winning?”

 

“Yes.”

 

So my odds are pretty good when I look at it that way. 

 

And she reminded me of the havoc that scar tissue has on your body, especially with such extensive surgery. 

 

So, in the end, it helped to have the visit, even though she went on 15 minutes longer than an hour, and I had to jump out of my seat when I realized the time since I had to get back to work and Jaime was waiting for me.

 

What kind of therapist goes on for longer than an hour?

 

Maybe one who cares.

Lessons from a Ski Trail

This Sunday, our kids’ski lessons were cancelled due to the cold so we went on a lovely family and friends ski on our own.  I think my healing path is similar to the cross country ski trail.  Even though it is cross country, there are some hills, though most are gentle.  It is easy, fun, fast and a little bit scary to let yourself go down the hills.  It is hard work and slow to go up the hills.  Sometimes you ski chatting with someone, and sometimes you ski alone.  Sometimes, the wind leaves you chilled and breathless.  After working hard enough, you feel warm and strong enough to keep going.  Sometimes you fall, and it is easy to get back up.  Other times, it is harder and you need someone’s help.  Sometimes, you ski in a loop and end up right back where you started.  Other times, you travel a great distance and end up somewhere new.  One way or other, you must find your way back home.

 

Today, I feel sad and out of sorts.  I’m not sure why after a great weekend.  Maybe I didn’t want the weekend to end. Maybe it is the cold and relentless winter.  Maybe because a cherished friend and someone I leaned on for strength will be gone.  Maybe because Amrita didn’t get into soccer and more than soccer, it means we won’t be with our friends.  Maybe because I still don’t trust and can’t interpret my body signals and I always fear that I am skiing a loop.  Maybe I am sad because even if I am skiing a trail that goes somewhere new, I’m worried that it is not the right direction.  And even if it is the right direction, right now, I miss some of the landscapes of youth and having your life ahead of you, like university and falling in love and having babies and choosing a career and the innocent, though maybe naïve, hope of great things to come. 

 

I know that many things are still ahead.  That the thrill of learning and loving and doing and changing don’t stop as you age.  And I want to age.  Really, I do, because I’ve already faced, at great length, the possibility of the alternative and that is a really tough place to be.  But still, there are moments when we all long for the past. 

 

And yet, we can only ever ski forward.     

Breezes Bella Costa

I have been trying to get used to being back to frigid temperatures - with freezing rain, flash freezes, and wind chill warnings – after a week in warm, sunny Cuba.  We returned in the wee hours of Sunday morning, considering ourselves lucky for not having been stranded in any airport or plane for hours or days as other travelers have been.

 

We had a lovely time in Cuba with warm, sunny days, the Caribbean sky so blue that you have never seen, the water emerald green and often calm, and palm trees gently swaying in the ocean breeze.  Like any Caribbean vacation, we swam in the ocean, built sand castles (winning 3rd place in the family sand castle competition), walked along the beach, swam in the pool, drank strawberry slushies (pĩna coladas for Jaime - I stayed away from the alcoholic drinks except couldn't resist the cervezas at lunch time at the beach restaurant) and ate far too much at the buffet for no particular reason.  In the evenings, since the entertainment started quite late for Aveen and Amrita, we would take a stroll in the garden and gaze up at the clear night sky with endless stars visible,  and then return to our room to play Uno and crowd around our small portable DVD player to watch Glee.   

 

One cloudy morning, we set out by bus to the nearby town of Veradero.  We walked along the stretch of the town, from Jonone Park where wild roosters and turkeys roamed free (and which otherwise looked a lot like Dow's Lake) to the local crafts market where vendors offered to  braid Amrita’s hair and drew Aveen in with magic boxes.  We watched people driving in motorized taxi/rikshaws and old fashioned cars and horse carriages.  We admired the colourful houses painted in bright yellows and turqoises.  We found a place to replenish ourselves with Fanta, and I tried to stay away from the stray dogs (which looked more cute than threatening but still brought back memories of mad, stray dogs in India).

 

Besides the warmth and sunshine and beach, the people of Cuba stand out.  Warm and friendly, they try hard to please and help, and they love children.  They loved Jaime because he speaks Spanish and Amrita, ruffling her hair wherever she went, because she is a cute, small girl.  Visitors at the Resort gave Aveen high fives all the time and patted his back – it turns out they were responding to the different soccer team shirts he would wear.  We made friends with a Polish family in this way.

 

I worried about the poverty in Cuba, wondering how they could make money off the vacation packages offered which were a fraction of the price they would be anywhere else.  A tip, even a small one, made people's faces light up and smile gratefully, as did scoring a bottle of ketchup or maple syrup.  They were curious what life is like outside Cuba since they cannot leave the country. 

 

It was a lovely escape, though I didn’t completely forget about my anxieties.  And now I am back, wondering what 2014 will have in store, hoping that it is better than 2013, and wondering again what direction I am meant to take my life, because I haven’t stopped wanting to know why this all happened to me.  Scientifically, it may have been random, bad luck (and then good luck).  But, spiritually, I am convinced that there was a reason, and it is my responsibility to find it and do something about it.  I just hope I don’t mess it up. 

 

At least I know that starting the New Year in Breezes Bella Costa was a good start.