Sometimes it's a choice

Picasso - Woman with Folded Arms

When I'm feeling bad, whether it's sad or down or insecure or frightened, nothing makes me feel worse than someone telling me I just need to "choose" to be happy.  I hate that and it really ticks me off.  Plus, it doesn't help at all.  It only makes me feel worse.

But, the truth is, sometimes (not always) I do need to make that choice to go with happiness, even when I don't really feel like it.

Today was one of those days when it had to be a choice.

I was at the medical center this morning.  Normally it's ok, but sometimes it can be a bit of a drag.  So I was there.  Just like I was yesterday.  And the day before that.  As I will be tomorrow.  And the day after that.  And every other weekday for the next 17.  I'm normally just in and out, quickly lined up by my new tattoos and hit with some radiation.  But today I also had some doctors appointments and some ultrasounds and a blood draw, too.

The ultrasounds required fasting.  This is not good because I require breakfast.  And I'm not happy when I don't get it.

Plus, after the ultrasounds, I needed to go to the blood lab.  Usually this is fine because no matter how bad my veins are, the phlebotomists are such pros they're always in and out in one take.

I guess that would be except for today.

The first phlebotomist, to her credit, knew she was out of her depth and called in a more experienced one and that worked fine.  Unfortunately, that was after she went in for what she thought was a vein but, after I jumped and no blood came out, she told me was probably actually a nerve.  Who would have though you could feel nerves from the outside like that?  Who would have thought nerves and veins could feel enough alike?

I do have bad veins, though, and only one good arm to use, so I expect trouble most times, just not in phlebotomy.  But knowing it was a challenge for anyone did absolutely nothing to cheer me up.

At least when that was done I went to the cafeteria for some long awaited breakfast.  I was feeling pretty sorry for myself by now.  And also feeling hungry.

The young thing in line next to me ordered the "Wellness Burrito" with extra spinach.  I did not.  I ordered French toast.  And when I grabbed the imitation syrup, did I take two?  You better bet I did.

I was feeling hungry and cancerous and pretty tired of medical stuff and I was starting to feel like getting some French toast and syrup was the least I could do for myself.

So then I sat with my French toast and syrup with more syrup, downed with some not so good coffee, and took advantage of the free WiFi to read some posts in my favorite breast cancer forum.  And I read some posts from some other women in my same shoes who aren't doing so well.  And read a heart wrenching blog post about something another stage IV woman's young son wrote about her cancer.  And then opened Twitter where I like to follow cancer news and saw a series of photos of a big-time football player with a shiny new Super Bowl ring visiting some very, very sick children.  Sick enough not to seem to know he was even in the room with them.

Now, you might think that I would maybe be valuing how lucky I am to have access to good medical care and insurance so I could have these safe and useful tests and medical expertise to keep me as well as possible, and how lucky I am to be doing so well, and to already have enough improvement from the radiation to be able to move my leg in a way that was previously very painful, and to be able to get breakfast, and WiFi, and have a device to use the WiFi on, and all the gloriously privileged things about my life.

But you would be wrong.

The only thing I was valuing at that moment was the fact that I had double syrup and not the slightest hint of "Wellness Burrito" (with or without extra spinach).  The rest of me just felt very, very sad.

But you know what?

I am lucky to have access to good medical care and insurance so I could have these safe and useful tests and medical expertise to keep me as well as possible.  I am lucky to be doing so well and to already have enough improvement from the radiation to be able to move my leg in a way that was previously very painful.  And I am lucky to be able to get breakfast, and WiFi, and have a device to use the WiFi on, and all the gloriously privileged things about my life.

There have been times in my life where it didn't matter how much I wanted to feel better, it was something outside of myself and I couldn't make it happen on my own.

But today I surprised myself.  For reasons I can't fathom, I was actually able to buck myself up.

I sometimes forget that worrying about things doesn't change them.  Sometimes I feel like if I just worry enough I can ward away bad things (I can't).

I sometimes forget that I believe God is with me.  Sometimes I feel pretty helpless and just on the brink of being swept away.  In my head I know He's with me in good times and bad, but it doesn't always move through to my heart.

I sometimes forget that I actually feel pretty good right now.  Sometimes I worry so much about what could happen if things don't continue to go well that I forget that right now things aren't in that bad place.

Afterward, when I was talking to my radiation oncology nurse about pain, she was telling me why it's important to take what I need to manage the pain.  She was telling me how when your body senses pain, it tightens up in that area and restricts the flow of blood you need to heal.

How's that for a metaphor?

And on very the same day where a phlebotomist mistook my nerves for veins.

Weird how life can throw metaphors at you (or at least weird how I can see a metaphor even in the least metaphor-like things, but it's my blog so let's ignore that for now).

I believe empathy is important.  I believe compassion is part of what makes people good.  I respect that football player for acting on empathy and compassion and taking the time to visit very, very sick kids.

But we also need gratitude, if for no other reason than to help us heal from what can seem like an onslaught of sad news all around us, and gratitude isn't always my strongest suit.  I believe gratitude can come from compassion and empathy, but I don't always get there that easily myself.

But I'm working on it.