Monica Steward

Both Feet on the Ground
by Monica Steward

I received the news that we have all heard before, but hope never to hear in our own world. We have seen it on TV, in Cosmo, and heard about friends and close and distant relatives who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. We have been told about the monthly exam we are supposed to do to ourselves, but never really do.

At 26, I felt a lump in my breast. I went to the doctor, but he told me "it was nothing." He told me what I wanted to hear. I did not pursue getting a mammogram. Why should I? A 26-year-old healthy woman does not get breast cancer. I didn't think so, anyway. But three years later, that lump turned out to be "something."

It was cancer.

After a lot of waiting, numerous doctors appointments, a mammogram, chest X-rays, a bone scan, they tell me they are 99 percent sure it is cancer. This was a strange time. I did not want to believe the doctors. There was still a chance it was not cancer--a slim chance. But I would not know for sure until the tumor was removed and examined.
I decided, along with my surgeon, to have a mastectomy. This meant if the lump was not cancer, they would stop with the surgery. If it was cancer, they would continue on with a radical mastectomy. Praying for the best and preparing myself for the worst was a most difficult thing to do.
My defenses did not immediately turn on: I had to deal with this, but I didn't know how. In the beginning, it was hard. Within two weeks, I was scheduled for a mastectomy--a modified radical removal of the left breast and the lymph nodes.

"Why me?"

This should not be a part of my life. I felt like I was living a scene from a sad story that should be on "Oprah." I was horrified, shocked. Words do not begin to explain the fear I had inside of me. I could see myself very sick, then see myself dead. Then I started telling my family and friends what was happening to me and I saw that same look of fear in their eyes. I realized that I had to change the imagery in my mind to that of being positive: of great health, being very much alive for a very, long time. This, I realized, was an important step in my recovery, yet I had not even gone under the scalpel.

About the Operation
It was my first experience in a hospital and it was a good one: No angry nurses, a pretty cool surgeon, a female anesthesiologist who had snowboarded for the very first time the day before my surgery, and so many flowers that they had to start putting them in a separate room. I didn't hate anything but the food. I don't understand how they expect people to heal when they're pumping them full of refined sugar, white flour, and not a single fresh vegetable? I wrote these thoughts to the hospital in an extended letter. But no response.

It has been three months since my surgery. Physically, I am 100 percent recovered. To my surprise, the surgery was relatively easy to overcome. Thank goodness the breast is a fatty tissue, so removing it was pretty painless. Removal of the lymph nodes is anther story. Take out an encyclopedia if you've never seen how the lymph nodes are spread throughout the body. The lymph nodes are basically pulled away from all surrounding tissue and muscle. This was the painful part. But I followed the stretching and strengthening exercises religiously. Within three weeks, I had 90 percent movement back. Two more weeks and I had 100 percent motion back.

Today, as I sit and type this, I think about my arm, my chest, everything that they've been through and what a miracle the body is. The only strange sensation I have is a random electric shock that shoots through my arm every so often. My nerves are still repairing themselves and this electric shock is a reminder of the on-going work my body is doing.

But the hardest work is the mental recovery. It's puzzling to me how easily the mind can drift into a doom state. And it takes so much more work and energy to keep positive thoughts all the time. For now, I start each day with a smile, set my feet on the ground, and think of my agenda for the day. It's simple: think positive thoughts, about everything, absolutely everything...

Where the Terror Lies
There are many lessons I have learned from this experience. Some make me angry, some make me feel hope and joy. I have taken each lesson and broken it down to its bare essence and tried to figure out why it made me react the way it did.

My main lesson was learning inner strength. I have moments of terror, but I try to focus on where the terror is coming from and try to change it. The fear is there because we've been programmed on ways to deal with cancer. The very word cancer cause us to have an image of a very sick, weak person on the verge of dying instead of a person very much alive who is dealing with cancer daily. Cancer is not death; it is scary, but not death.

We get through scary things, including cancer. With the right mindset, treatment, inner strength, and support, a person can overcome cancer. Your life can even become more incredible than it was before.

Moving On...
I've learned to focus on health and good feelings, not pain and death. Everyday I get out of bed, set my feet on the floor, and start the day. Have you ever done the same? Ever set your feet on the floor and thought to yourself how wonderful it is to have feet? Feet that have no pain and do exactly what you tell them? We never realize how good something is until it's gone...or in pain.

I've learned to look at the good side of everything and have patience. When the light turns red when you're in a hurry, stop for it and take a breath. Take this time for you and make it a positive experience, instead of a frustrating one. This may sound corny, but it's so true. I didn't see that at first and have to remind myself to re-evaluate. But it makes you a positive person. It makes traffic tolerable and makes us able to deal with the person who "doesn't get it." It is necessary for inner peace, which is essential for inner health.

Why do we need to have a near death experience to thrust us into living life the way we are supposed to? What's programmed us to not appreciate our arms until one is gone? To think about the way we should have treated the person we love until they're gone and living life without you?

Don't wait until tragedy strikes you to start living a healthy mental and physical life. The only thing holding you back is yourself. I truly believe that living this healthy mental and physical life makes us stronger in the war against cancer and the battle against keeping all stress out of our lives. All in all, acquiring this inner strength makes your life a wonderful place to be. And no matter what's thrown your way, you will have the strength to catch it with both hands, standing on both feet, with a clear head and the capability to understand how to deal with it.

Photo by John Running