Learning to Listen

2019 6 17 LIstenFor the past eight years, I’ve watched my best friend fight her body’s rebellion in the form of Ovarian cancer.

She’s had surgeries, blood transfusion, infusion ports, tubes down her nose, and more lab draws than I can count.

Her life revolves around doctor’s appointments, lab results, and treatments as she tries to have some normalcy in the everyday things.

When she first started this journey, I’ll admit, fury wouldn’t begin to accurately describe my feeling toward the situation.

How dare the evil “C” come after my friend so fiercely! (Insert multiple profanities here.)

If cancer had been person, I would probably be in prison right now. 2019 6 17 Most-people-do-not-listen-with-the-intent-to-understand-they-listen-with-the-intent-to-reply1

Seriously.

Not really.

Probably.

I’ve said enough…

Anyhew…she got through her initial “debulking” surgery, which consisted of her getting a large, new belly scar, an infusion port, and a whole lot of new medications.

My anger grew as she told me about her upcoming treatments and how much her life changed, but compared to her ferocity at her diagnosis, mine probably looked like a couple of happy bunnies bouncing through the tall grass. Still, I wanted, needed to do something. Fix the situation. Make it better. Have all the answers.

I needed that, but that’s not what she needed.

When she called to tell me about her latest lab results, chemo treatments, or doctor’s appointments, she explained didn’t want me to fix anything.

She didn’t need me to tell her the latest trend in chemo research or if she’d just take these six things out of her diet or if she’d stand on her head every morning, it would cure her cancer.

She certainly didn’t want any articles about miracle cures or survival statistics.

No, what she needed me to do was listen. Just listen.

Understand, that’s difficult for me to do. Simply sit quietly, take it all in, and not spit out a solution.

I have always loved to help people. Over the years, (hopefully) I’ve given helpful advice and fixed situations that need a hand. I’m quick to address a problem and love the chaos of unpredictability.

That’s why I was a damn good trauma/critical care nurse. Before then, I waited tables and tended bar. All are perfect jobs for someone who’s got a brain thinking at ninety miles per hour 24/7.

Such skills didn’t bode well with two thousand miles between us. I couldn’t help her with the daily things like making meals or cleaning her house or helping her get to and from doctor’s visits and chemo treatments.

That stressed me just as much as her battling this stupid, stupid cancer.

2019 6 17 Never Miss a Good ChanceThen in the middle of all this chaos, something beautiful happened. When I asked her what I could do to help, she said for me to “hang out” with her while she had her treatments. “Be there” when she needed to vent and help her translate some of the medical terminology that didn’t quite make sense.

So, every Thursday, we started texting as soon as her butt touched the treatment chair. She’d call me to and from doctor visits and lab draws.

She’d vent when the chemo caused neuropathy bad enough that she didn’t trust her own feet underneath her.

I’d check on her several times a week, simply ask how her day was going. Not all conversations were about cancer. With over forty years of friendship, we quickly rolled back into talking about any and everything–kids, work, books, movies–whatever came to mind.

With all those conversations, I listened and learned and absorbed everything she told me about what she went through.

The obstacles with insurance. The frustration with remembering things she never had trouble remembering before because of “chemo brain.”

She explained how life at work changed because some of her co-workers wouldn’t look her in the eyes anymore when she lost her hair. (Can you believe that?)

Because of that, when I see someone who appears to be going through cancer treatments, I always make eye contact, smile, and say hello. It’s simple and it can mean the world to someone having a particularly crappy day.

She told me how to better ask questions of those going through difficult times and how to  better help.

She also explained, sometimes it’s perfectly okay to say…nothing.

That’s right. You read that right. To say…nothing. To simply sit and listen.

That doesn’t meant you ditch people. What it means is you keep being present, you keep showing up, and you keep being the same friend you’ve always been.

And it’s perfectly okay to tell someone, “I’m not sure how to help you.” or “Please tell me what I can do for you.” or “This sucks.”

Communication can make an amazing difference in the life of someone going through this crap and to communicate better, simply learn to listen.

2019 6 17 Listening to help

If these symptoms are new to you and persist for more than 2 weeks, please talk to your health care provider about addressing them and parameters for follow up.

If you feel your provider isn’t listening, please get a second opinion.

2016 8 31 Symptoms of OC

 

Got de-ported – Now what?

I was de-ported last week.  Not in a Justin-Bieber-kind-of-way but in a medical-sort-of-way.  I had my one remaining IV mediport removed.   When I was originally diagnosed with ovarian cancer, I qualified for a clinical trial which required two ports – one was IP (intra peritoneal) and one was the traditional IV power port in the chest.  Due to clinical trial protocol, I had the IP port out as soon as I finished chemo.  My trial included Avastin treatments which went on for several more months so I kept the IV port.  Once Avastin treatments were over, I thought I’d have the IV port taken out right away.  However, after thinking about it, I opted to keep it.  I felt that it was my umbrella, so-to-speak, so that I could keep the “rain” away which means if I kept the port, maybe I’d never need again.  Ovarian cancer has a high recurrence rate and I was late-stage when I was originally diagnosed so it’s very possible that it will come back.  

However, I have decided that 2014 is the year for change.  Since I put so much effort into staring down cancer, after treatment was completed, I started getting involved in advocacy through the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance (see my previous post with former Miss USA Olivia Culpo).  Now that my port is out, I feel even more passion for continuing the advocacy efforts to educate women, medical professionals, Capitol Hill, and anyone else who will listen about the signs, symptoms, and unquestionable need for an early detection test for ovarian cancer.

This is why my efforts will now be with the GrassTops Program through the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance. I have enjoyed being a part of the Ovarian Cancer National Alliance’s annual conference for the last two years.  This new opportunity with GrassTops will allow me to continue to speak for young girls, teenagers, and women of all ages who have lost their lives to this disease (including my grandmother) as well as to speak for those who are still in the fight and those who have not yet been diagnosed.  I am committing the next two years to help the Alliance raise awareness and research dollars.

Since this is my year for change, I have also been blessed with a charity fundraising slot in the 2014 Boston Marathon (as a former resident, Boston is my adopted hometown).  Boston is a HUGE marathon and has always been a goal of mine.  I completed five marathons prior to my cancer diagnosis.  The Boston Marathon will my first marathon post-cancer and post-chemo.  My body is built for endurance, not speed, so I will never be a time qualifier yet I was truly lucky to gain a charity slot for South Boston Neighborhood House a.k.a. The Ollie.

I feel strong – both physically and emotionally.  I cannot dwell on the probability of recurrence.  I need to enjoy TODAY.  I will not let cancer sap any more of my happiness nor will I be saddled with “what-ifs.”   It’s time to move forward and put cancer in the rear-view mirror. One day recently I awoke and said, “I’m all done with this mediport.”  So out it came last week and I have no regrets.  I am so excited to be healthy enough to be training for another marathon. Boston will be a homecoming of sorts for me and it will be a dream come true.

This is the year for change – the Boston Marathon is a life-long dream and I will realize that dream very soon. If you are able to help me reach my fundraising goal for South Boston Neighborhood House, please do so through this link.. Even $10 will go a long way to help this fantastic organization that does so much to support the South Boston community.  Thank you in advance!!!  I also dream of an early detection test for ovarian cancer.  I will continue the fight for all women. I will do all of this without any more mediports in me.  So long, cancer!!

ovarian-cancer-ribbon2.jpg

 

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