9/11 Strength

Eighteen months ago there was an eerie silence. When the world shut down for covid, everyone sheltered in place as if under attack. I stepped outside and a terrible familiarity chilled me. The bright blue skies lost the criss- cross of exhaust and the peacefulness was anything but. There was fear. Twenty years ago today also offered a surreal silence as all planes were ordered to land immediately. There wasn’t peacefulness, just shock. Innocence was lost the day American came under direct attack. Every one of us recalls where we were that morning when reality of the sheer evil unfolded. Many at risk were ultimately found safe but too many faced hell that day. Terrorism became a new and terrible concept.

We changed and adapted and we ultimately moved on, accepting a new reality as innocence was lost. We didn’t defeat terrorism as witnessed these past weeks, but we learned to be resilient in the face of challenge. A world pandemic presented a new terror and once again we find the internal fortitude to manage.

When Nancy presented for treatment, she was a puddle of tears- basically fears. She needs this new cancer like a hole in the head. Recovering from abuse and even imprisonment for attacking her assaulter (how does this happen, dear lawyers?) at middle age she cannot continue her physical job due to fractures. I do not need a plane, a pandemic or refugees to look directly at tragedy.

There is however, strength and hope to tap into when we appreciate a country that recovered, a world which is joining forces and individuals being saved. No event, illness, or tragedy can crush the human spirit. When Nancy believes she is adrift and the sky is falling, there must be a thought that somewhere within, her unique spirit is in control. This is what patients feel so very often- confusion and fear in the circumstance. It is the rescuer running toward, the helping hand of compassion, the kindness of strangers, the support of family, friends or a team that will give us and her a renewed belief.

I need to treat Nancy’s cancer. I want to heal her life. If she sees that people care and have not abandoned her, she will come through and succeed. She doubts that she is brave enough to rise out of her ashes. For today I must hold the hand and give confidence that she does have the strength within for this battle, but when she does not believe, there are others who will rescue her and carry her through the danger, rubble and fear.

You can offer this encouragement and kindness to someone today. You are needed. The term “never forget” is a message for this day 9/11, but also never forget that our community of human strength and spirit is far greater than any threat. Lieutenant Tony was a brave NYFD rookie who survived rescuing others on that fated day. He reminds us in simple terms, “It’s about respect for human life”.

The Comeback

Even if you do not follow professional golf, you will be aware of Tiger Wood’s amazing comeback to win his fifth Master’s Tournament this month- his first major win in eleven years. A decade of surgeries, rehab, personal challenges, physical therapy, scandals, loss of sponsors, a truly challenging time when most would give up.

You can anticipate the parallels I see for us all. The victory by one stroke after days of competing, is being called a “miracle comeback”. As exciting as many are for this inspiring champion, even fellow golfers, Tiger’s win has implications for us. After all, patients treated for cancer are ever seeking their own comeback.

In the oncology clinic, Tuesday is a day for following up my patients treated over the past months and years. Everyone is so unique- not just the cancers or the stages, but how each of them has managed, thrived or succumbed to the disease. Some are capable of getting on with life, putting the impact of cancer behind them. Others are dealing with ongoing therapy (immune, chemo or radiation) and hopeful that the next scan gives them a break so they can regain some normalcy. Some have rehabilitated in new and exciting directions with changes in employment, education, having children and grandchildren. What every single one of them needs is hope and encouragement. Rooting for Tiger or not (generally I like an underdog whose life will change with a win and dedication rewarded), you cannot deny the profound message: “anything is possible”. He never lost faith in himself. He didn’t say that he was too old at 43 to push through the pain, he defied every naysayer.

I want you to resist your own fearful, scared voice. Tell yourself that you are a champion. Separate the cure from living- you can! Cancer isn’t who you are. It should not define you. See yourself as whole and hearty. The stronger you think the stronger you will be. Get up. Get out. Envision those muscles flowing with healing blood. Imagine the white light of strength surrounding and protecting you.

Just do it isn’t only a shoe company slogan. Its something you do everyday. You can do it isn’t just a hardware store advertisement. Get it done doesn’t belong solely to another retailer. It is something you can access everyday for yourself. Be a champion, have faith in yourself and your own comeback will be fierce.

Congratulations Tiger and thank you for the inspiration.

The Buddy System

Summer afternoons in Florida bring torrential downpours, lightening, electrical disruptions, flooding and accidents. It’s a mess, but thank goodness they generally last only a few minutes to an hour. I never heard anyone use the term “drizzle” like we did up North and I quickly learned my first year  here to respect when they say “rain”. Monsoons are more like it.

When Chuck* came in to discuss his new diagnosis of multiple myeloma and radiation for pain, he arrived with his service dog, Buddy*. What followed is a chaotic visit punctuated by the booming lightning strikes seen through the window overlooking the pond and preserve (usually a tranquil view). As always we start with the history. Chuck is a veteran. Following several deployments, he has PTSD and thought his fatigue and pain were related, no idea of this new cancer as the culprit. He adopted Buddy after he was trained for emotional support. We all need a Buddy  on this day. The large yellow Labrador Retriever lies at Chuck’s feet as we review the x-rays and discuss care. The  storm ramped up and I found my sentences punctuated with “crash-crash” as if we are all in a horror movie.

Poor Buddy needed our support more than Chuck. He wears the vest but it doesn’t protect him from the startle response to the lightning strikes. Finally, Chuck sits on the floor and cradles a trembling Buddy in his lap, rocking back and forth. It is all just too much for everyone. Having a front row seat to the interaction reinforces how healing  the bond is for both.

When the drama subsides after about 45 minutes we finally get on with helping Chuck and Buddy heads out to the waiting room, looking back several times to be sure Chuck is okay. What sweetness and concern passes between them. Chuck says, “You’ll be alright, Buddy” as he pats his head. Buddy knows that Chuck is in trouble and that his job of support just logarithmically increased. His presence will be a big factor in Chuck’s wellbeing and recovery.

Buddy gives Chuck someone to live for, pushing him toward treatment he may otherwise have avoided. They will both do well for a time and I am grateful for the magical loving bond that was created from nothing but now means the world.

What support systems have you found helpful during your journey? Feel free to share. Joanne

*Names have been changed to protect identity.