Thank You, Cancer

Chondrosarcoma a rare form of bone cancer

Thank you Cancer, for changing my life for the better. Ha ha! Bet you thought you couldn't do that. But, you did. Oh yes, you made me suffer. But, you know what Cancer? I learned a lot about compassion and caring and humanity because of that. I learned to recognize when other people were hurting and needing help. That changed me for the better for sure, because I care about others so much more than before you came along trying to frighten me. You terrified me, in fact. But, because of that, I learned I am stronger than I thought I was. I learned I'm stronger than you, Cancer. Nyah! Nyah!

Thank you Cancer for giving me patience and fortitude, and gratitude. Thank you for teaching me how to be humble and brave at the same time, for teaching me how to cry out loud and not be ashamed. Thank you for helping me to understand that it is okay to ask for what I need, to not feel a burden to others, especially if they have said, "if there is anything I can do..." I understand it's okay to lean on others when I need to, and I can offer kindness in return, too, whenever they need it. And, hopefully, understanding.

Thank you for teaching me how to let go of fallacious beliefs, pettiness, and small minded thinking, for giving me the opportunity to disconnect myself from things unworthy of my attention. Thank you for teaching me what is important and "don't sweat the small stuff".

You taught me to research, to get serious about educating myself in every aspect of my diagnosis, of the condition of my health. I've learned a lot of things I never knew before, important things, useful things that have helped me on my way through life. I've been able to share that information, too. It was hard to learn all that awful stuff you do, but I learned too, how the body works, how science is always making improvements. I've learned there really is hope even in the face of darkness.

Aptos Beach, California
Storm is brewing at sundown 

Thank you Cancer for teaching me to respect my body, to listen to it, to take the best care of it as possible. I certainly wasn't doing a good job of that until you came along. Was I? And thank you for giving me the opportunity to explore the world of nutrition and educate myself, and enjoy food in a whole different way. I have such a large variety of foods I never would have thought about eating before. I've developed better shopping skills and become somewhat of a gourmet. Food is not just something I stuff in my face anymore. Food is something to enjoy fully. Thank you for that, Cancer.

You're not going to believe this one, Cancer! Thank you for helping me get more organized and focused. Oh, I know I will never be perfect at it. But, you know what? You taught me to put my life in order, to take care of business... the important business that I didn't want my family to have to deal with in case I... well you know better than anyone, Cancer, what I'm getting at.

Thank you, too, for teaching me about how to communicate with doctors and nurses and others who helped me. I learned so much about how to get my point across, how to listen, how to keep track of my medical appointments and most of all those very important papers. Yep, back to that organization thing again. And while we are on the subject, Cancer, thank you for showing me that nurses, medical technicians and doctors are human beings, too; that none of them are in the business of making money off me, for showing me that they have hearts and souls and work hard to help people heal.

Thank you Cancer for teaching me how to face my fear of death, my fear of mutilation, my fear of loss of self-identity. Thank you for giving me peace of mind once I learned to accept life with all it's beauty, and depth.

Thank you for teaching me to not get caught up in frivolities, teaching me that an immaculately clean house is not the  most important thing. Sometimes it's more important to rest perhaps even... a lot of time.

Elizabeth Munroz, Sterling Cridge,
Dar Parsons, Storm Cosby
in my messy house, Indianapolis Indiana.1994

Thanks for teaching me that my hair doesn't have to be "just so", that I don't have to be embarrassed about the imperfections of my body or the condition of my skin. It is what it is. I'm so grateful for that because now I don't judge others based upon their appearance either. And it's so much easier to see beyond that outer wrapping and discover a person for who they really are inside. It's so much easier and feels so good to be kind and loving. It takes so much energy to be hateful and mean spirited. I understand that now.

Thank you Cancer for showing me that sometimes it is necessary to stop what I'm doing and take inventory of my life to get my priorities in order. Did you know that, Cancer? You taught me how to simplify my life, to not take on more than I could handle, to not allow myself to be so overwhelmed trying to do too much. You taught me how to say "no" or "later" or "I'll think about it" before jumping in and committing to something I could not complete so I wouldn't be disappointed in myself for failing. You taught me to not make promises I couldn't keep. It lifted a great burden off my shoulders, that feeling of obligation that I was dragging around like a load of laundry. Wow! That's a lot! What a tremendous change for me. I'm not perfect at it, but I'm way better. Yes! Thanks for that!

Thank you, Cancer, for teaching me to be a daredevil. Really... I mean... I like to take chances now that I wouldn't before. Like stand up and walk when they said I couldn't. I might have fallen down. I might have not been able to walk. But it was worth trying. "If at first you don't succeed, try... Well, you know the phrase, I'm sure, Cancer. You've taught me to try new things I would have been too timid to do in the past. Like dance with abandon not caring what people think and have fun, every sweaty minute of it, even though I knew I might hurt in the morning. What did I have to lose? I would be in pain anyway. Might as well enjoy it. Eh, Cancer?

Elizabeth Munroz and son, Xavier Rodriguez
1979 Covina California

And thanks to you, even though I couldn't have a career, I dared to volunteer to teach children how to read and adults how to speak English. I could get up in front of people and give speeches about how to find their ancestors. I did things I never thought I would be brave enough to do, that one thing "they" swore I could never accomplish. I got pregnant and had a baby! Yes, Cancer, because of you I did things I never dreamed possible. Thank you, for that

But now, Cancer, you raised your ugly head to make me sick again after all these years of leaving you behind. I recognized you in your new disguise even though the doctors had not told me yet, and I'm not afraid of you anymore. Go ahead, Cancer, I know you are going to do your thing. But, I'm not cringing. I'm not wishing I could run away. I'm not giving up! I'm going to live my life as fully as possible whether you are in it or not. Because there's one thing I learned on my own Cancer. There's one thing I learned how to do by myself. And that is to face you down and take up the challenge, and fight the good fight and keep on going and do the best I can to cherish each moment, whether dark or light. Because they are MY moments and no one, not even you, Cancer, can take that away from me!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written and copyright by Elizabeth Munroz
Previous survivor of rare bone cancer called Chondrosarcoma
Presently living with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia

Elusive Happiness

Photo by Elizabeth Munroz

What ever happened to happily ever after? That was all hype, like Santa Claus, Leprechauns, the Tooth Fairy, and all that other bunch of lies that were perpetrated upon us as kids. There ought to be a Law!!!

Really... I think happiness is what we make it.

As the Buddhists say, one of the first truths is that we all have suffering, none can escape it. Once that sinks in, we can work from it, or around it or with it, or whatever. The Buddhists also say that the one thing in life that is constant is change.

My life often seemed as though it had all been one big dark pit of suffering. Truly, a lot of it I brought on myself by my attitude towards things. At the time I didn't know any better. How could I cope if no one I knew had the skills to be an example to me? I guess I could say I came from a dysfunctional family. But, how were they to know, either, if they were brought up when times were so challenging all you could think about was where the next meal would come from.

The person I am today is not who I once was. Somewhere along the way I learned that happiness is not meant to be a permanent condition. What a shock when I found that out! I thought I had been missing out on something everyone else had.

I think it's a good thing we don't have an abundance of joy. We would get bored with it. Don't you think? In order to appreciate happiness, thrill to it, we must be deprived of it, before it fills us to overflowing. (Shades of "My Cup Runneth Over").

Photo Art by Elizabeth Munroz

It's funny how the littlest things make me happy now, that I never even considered worthy of the appellation. Simply watching what's going on around me without judging it, for example. When I'm down, I might just make myself smile. At first, it makes me feel a fake happiness that catches on and becomes real the more I do it. Perhaps the body, the mind, the spirit needs reminding? Sounds crazy I know, but I am probably somewhat that, too. Psychiatrists say that everyone has a bit of neurosis. Yes?

Then, of course, there's Chocolate Happiness!  'Nuf said on that one.

I'm of a believer in the concept of destiny. Not that we are pawns of it, but that we have opportunity to enhance life and challenge us to become the best we can be. Naturally we do not live the perfect path, but some acceptance of the painful things sure goes a long way for making life easier.

When I look back, I can see that so many things I previously considered disastrous in my life were actually good things. While I was going through challenges and difficulties, even of the worst kind, I clung to the "woe is me" sentiment. I sometimes felt victimized and helpless. I tolerated those situations way too long before setting myself free. Often this occurred in a very traumatic way, as I went through it all in a most negative attitude. "Oh, poor me. Life is hard. Other people have it so easy. No wonder they are happy." Life might have been easier had I not looked at life from such a viewpoint.

Photo by Elizabeth Munroz

Yet, today, looking at my experiences, I do not regret a single moment of it. Lessons were to be learned. Understanding needed to be gained. Everyone goes through it. If I had clung to what I thought was going to bring me happiness, I never would have been able to face today. It is all the more precious!

All this brings me deep in my soul, healing and satisfaction beyond mere happiness. I find that I can accept the things that happen in my life. I am aware of the attitudes I had about them in the past. I feel it brings me a compassionate heart that opens to heartfelt pain and full love for others I have never met. See what I mean?

I had cancer, and many disfiguring surgeries. I had marriages that failed. Children lost to me. Friends who couldn't deal with illness. I suffered and had such a negative attitude about it for years. Yet, it has all made me the person I am today. Way stronger of an individual than I ever could have dreamed of being without it. Dealing with Leukemia, even the so-called easy kind is my permanent future. I'm not pretending to be a positive thinker. I just take one day at a time, and thank science for having a chemo pill I can pop every day so that my cancer is controlled. Sure, there are side effects, and I don't always feel well, going to the doctor is a regular part of my life. It is what it is. Some days are worse than others. But, I make the best of it.

I know not everyone looks at things this way. But this is my take on it, and it makes me happy.

Bone Marrow Biopsy Procedure

I've been so occupied with further testing and just ordinary medical appointments that I haven't had a moment to relax. Well, and... taking care of the Chondrosarcoma group, and hanging out at Facebook, and playing Words With Friends for a little escapism ( WWF is like Scrabble) and attending a writing class. I am also writing my autobiography-memoirs. I intend to publish. I'm about 2/3 of the way through it. I intend to publish.

Years ago when I had CS, cancer was not something discussed with others. in fact it was a shameful secret. I went through the surgeries and healing process without friends even knowing what was going on until the later years of recurrences. Lost a lot of friends that way. People like calls returned and want to go hang out. It was a lonely journey. It feels so good to know I wont be alone on this. My friends are being very supportive.

Last week on the 28th, I had a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy. Kats held my hand, but really didn't need to. It was a really easy and painless procedure. Better than having a tooth extracted. Truly, when the doctor first pressed on me before injecting the numbing stuff, It's what hurt the most, since I have Fibromyalgia. I know there is a lot of talk that it's terrible, but that was not my experience. That is not to say someone else might have a different experience. My behind was numbed out with novacaine. We waited about ten minutes for it to take affect. The doctor inserted (twisted?) a needle into the iliac bone until he reached the bone marrow and aspirated some fluid. Then he used a sort of thick needle to pull out a tiny piece of bone so that it can be sent to a pathologist to further identify what's going on with my Leukemia. I asked to see it, no thicker than a piece of spaghetti and maybe a quarter inch long. I should hear some results by next Friday. The rest will trickle in after that.

Everything points to it being the chronic kind of Leukemia. But I have a million questions. What I'm reading there seem to be different degrees and different genetic aspects regarding staging and so on. With modern treatment, from what my doctor said, my chemo will be in pill form. I will have to take it the rest of my life. As time goes by there will be newer better medication and who knows? possibly a cure. I suspect I will be about 90 by that time. ;-)

I have joined an online CML support group. From reading people's updates, I'm finding that most all do well with their similar chemo.  So, I feel hopeful that my future is assured, as long as I'm not walking down the center divider of a busy freeway and a UFO lands on me. Ha Ha! I know... My sense of humor is warped!

Going over my old medical records (blood tests) and based upon symptoms I've had crop up, it looks like this started manifesting about two years ago. The most annoying symptom is night sweats. Other than sleeping in a vat of ice, I don't know what else to do.

The pictures were taken by Kats in November 1998 when we went to Lake Tahoe.