Yes, and

Did you know that by the age of 85 (if you’re lucky enough to live that long), the odds of getting Alzheimer’s are shockingly high? Statistics say that one out of every TWO people will hit the jackpot.   Whoa. Say WHAT?!

Until last night, I’d assumed odds were very slim of being diagnosed with this insidious disease if there was no prior family history.  But then again, if I’d taken the time to actually THINK about it, I’d surely have known better. (Right? Surely I would have, right?!?)

Because, back in the BC (read: Before Cancer) days, I also thought the odds of ever getting breast cancer, with no prior family history, were  very slim. Turns out that was complete baloney.

Last evening hubby and I attended our monthly lecture series and the speaker was Dr. Lisa Genova. I have to admit, I had no clue who she was until I read the brief bio about her in the series brochure. So, assuming you don’t know who she is either, I’ll tell you.

She’s the neuroscientist (Ph.D. from Harvard, no less) who wrote the book ‘Still Alice’. It’s a novel about a woman in her early 50’s, who has a full and busy life until she gets upended by a diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s.

Dr. Genova’s manuscript was initially rejected by dozens of agents. (I think she said close to 100). The general consensus, if it wasn’t a standard reject letter of 2 sentences, basically came down to: No one wants to read a depressing story about a woman with Alzheimer’s.

So she decided to self-publish and sold copies from the trunk of her car, for several years. Finally a personal connection offered her an introduction to speak with another book agent, who agreed to read the manuscript. Although the odds of wide publication were still dauntingly slim, he decided to take a flyer on it and find a publisher.

The rest is history…a best-seller, ‘Still Alice’ was translated into 37 languages, and a few years later it became an Academy Award winning film.

Not only was Dr. Genova’s lecture last evening about Alzheimer’s Disease educational and highly enlightening, it was also engaging in the most unexpected ways.   The audience was captivated for the full hour. Afterwards, the 30 minute Q & A left us all with much to think about and personally I was so impressed with her innate ability to not only convey complex science to a broad audience in a way that was easy to follow, but to also ensure we were fully engaged with what she presented.

We learned that Alzheimer’s begins in the hippocampus area of the brain, where emotions are regulated, particularly memory. Slowly over the course of several years, the disease atrophies the hippocampus, stealing memories both old and new. Because it can take years for Alzheimer’s symptoms to surface, it’s rarely detected prior to the changes in memory behavior that become noticeably unusual.

At very late stages of the disease patients will have lost the ability to swallow, because their memory of even the most basic functions are wiped out.

Dr. Genova decided to write a novel about Alzheimer’s after watching her beloved grandmother rapidly decline with the disease. Frustrated over lack of understanding, she decided to delve into heavy research. Rather than pursue the science of it, she went after the reality of it…the human experience.

Having sympathy for someone does not bring you enlightenment or understanding, even if you think you can relate in some way. And quite often, when it comes to Alzheimer’s (and this applies to late stage cancer as well), a stigma comes along with it. Alzheimer’s (and cancer) are scary subjects. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, so rather than truly engaging with someone diagnosed with a terminal illness, they tend to back away. They express sympathy, but don’t have the empathy to step up and truly engage in a meaningful way.

Dr. Genova spent 18 months speaking with dozens of Alzheimer’s patients, and maintained ongoing conversations with them as their disease progressed. During that time, she began to write the novel ‘Still Alice’ (at Starbucks!) with the intent of shedding much needed light on a difficult subject matter.

By creating a fictional character to personally narrate their own story and the ensuing odyssey of coping with initially subtle symptoms of confusion, then more advanced symptoms that became impossible to ignore, the character she creates brings us along to hear the stunning diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s, and the aftermath of it’s impact on those she loves the most; her family.

Dr. Cordova envelops the reader as she exposes them to the shocking realities of what it truly means to become diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. Decline of the mind can be slow, but it’s always relentless as it continues to march towards ultimate death.

Though advanced stage Alzheimer patients will lose the ability to recall the names of their loved ones, and often revert to their earliest childhood memories until those too vanish, it is important to remember that they can still experience emotion such as joy, sadness, anger and even love.

Sadly, it’s not uncommon for people to walk away from their own family members who’ve been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. It’s scary, so they back away from what they don’t understand.

“My mom has no clue who I am anyhow. She keeps telling me she’s waiting for her mommy to pick her up from school. I had to tell her, ‘Your mother has been dead for 50 years! She’s not coming for you.’  So, I just stopped going to visit, it’s pointless.”

But, is it?

The next key talking point of the lecture was a concept that Dr. Genova calls: Yes, and

It’s actually pretty simple.     It’s not about you!  So instead of finding fault or correcting what they’ve said, try saying “Yes and…

Yes and while we wait for your mommy, shall we have a cup of tea together?” This was the very example Dr. Genova used.  Just play along.  Step into their reality and experience the emotions with them.  Even if you disagree, the dialogue can continue rather than end in a frustrating disconnect.  When you experience someone else’s reality,  you can actually gain empathy and that in turn brings compassion.

Yes and can apply to every situation in life.  Every single one.  It’s how we find common ground.

So, I’ve been thinking today about all the many things folks have said to me over the past almost five years…in their effort to be supportive of my own health situation. One of the most memorable comments made to me was when a woman who used to work with me blurted out one day that “coffee enemas can “cure” your cancer.”

I looked at her with probably a bit too much intensity before I finally said “And you know this how?”

Turns out her sister was “cured” using coffee enemas, which she began after completing chemo and radiation first for her early stage breast cancer.  In hindsight, I now realize what I should have said:

Yes, and did you know that if you brew a fresh cup of Folgers, pour it into your left ear canal, it will trick your brain into thinking you’re a kangaroo in the Australian Outback?”

*for those readers taking offense to this notion that coffee enema’s don’t in fact cure cancer, I suggest you just keep on doing your own enemas. Seriously, whatever floats your boat. Go for it!

So, what’s The GOOD News when it comes to Alzheimer’s? The gene risk: whether you carry a genetic component for Alzheimer’s or even if your parents both are/were gene carriers, this is not a guarantee you’ll in fact develop Alzheimer’s yourself.

There are in fact some things we can all do to lower our risk of Alzheimer’s (aside from making sure we die before we’re 85).

  • Stay away from alcohol and smoking (do I sound like your mother?) Both are known risks for Alzheimer’s. Both literally reduce the health of your brain, not to mention the rest of your body at large.
  • Stay cardio fit.
  • Mediterranean diets are apparently proven helpful to reduce risk of Alzheimer’s. Who knew? or…did I…… just forget?

But if you just can’t manage any of those things…there’s still a glimmer of hope.

  • Learn NEW things. Because the brain benefits from learning NEW things. Here’s some examples we were given:
    • learn a new language,
    • learn a new sport,
    • read a new book,
    • see a new movie,
    • take up a new hobby,
    • go on a new adventure.

All these new things help to restore some critically important brain cells that might have otherwise been lost for good to Alzheimer’s.

STOP DOING CROSSWORD PUZZLES! You are recalling things you already know. So just stop it, okay?

So, I came home last night and thought about my own life.

  • I quit those silly crossword puzzles long ago when I realized I had no idea who the Hollywood hotshots were anymore,
  • I’ve taken up a new hobby (watercolor and acrylics) that I am enjoying,
  • I’m reading books of fiction and memoirs regularly,
  • I’ve brought a German Shepherd into my home that simply needed consistent and clear direction (so that’s basically an ongoing devotional between this dog and her adoring humans), and
  • I’m balancing my busy work life while also managing my never-ending schedule of cancer care. In that department, I have carved out time to become a volunteer for a wonderful organization in NYC called SHARE…they educate and empower women affected by breast or ovarian cancer by providing a multitude of support services.

Just this past week, a client remarked how well I looked, and she followed that up with “you must be doing really well.” I couldn’t think fast enough, so I simply smiled appreciatively and re-engaged with the task at hand, which was showing her the monthly financial reports.

But in hindsight, I should have replied with “Yes and thank you!”

Because I am doing really well. Godzilla and Portia both have my back. I’m blessed to have an oncologist who is in dogged pursuit of a breakthrough for Metastatic Breast Cancer. Do I understand the actual realities of this disease? Yes, and although I am living with them every day, I am still just so very grateful to still be living in the here and now.

Blessings to you all, dear friends.  xo

#LiveTheDash

 

 

 

Spring Is In The Air And Gray Is In My Hair.

It’s been a struggle, looking in the mirror every morning wondering who that gray haired woman is that is staring right back at me. She looks, well…OLD.

I mean, I’m no spring chicken according to my driver’s license, but I simply want to look like I FEEL. Younger than my driver’s license, and still a relevant member of my generation in spite of the toxic cancer drugs they pump into me every three weeks. All this gray is nothing more than a bold reminder that I’m forever living with cancer.

So, after much angst and with the approval of my oncologist, I met with a hair color specialist. It didn’t help that she immediately told me that she loved my gray.

But I don’t feel like me, I told her. So she explained that with never ending toxic drugs, my hair has been through a lot.

No shit, Sherlock (I said to myself).

To clarify for those of you who don’t really understand: my hair died with chemo and rather promptly fell off my head, then with a change of chemo drugs some 4 months later, it slowly (very s l o w l y) re-appeared but with a different texture and a whole lot more gray than it’d left with. Apparently while on hiatus, my hair decided to return with more curl and more ‘maturity’.  And I’m just not a fan of being pushed through the aging process faster than what would be the normal progression without cancer in my life.

We chatted for thirty minutes, the specialist and I. I showed her pictures of my hair before it all fell out. It had some white, but it had way more blond. It didn’t make me look older than my driver’s license, and it made me feel like all my friends look: healthy. So, we discussed all the options. Not many of them, really…but as we spoke, it became clear that the best option was really the first option and the most obvious.

I made the appointment and I’m going to have that gray tweeked. Yup, I’m not going to make it go away, because that would be impossible. But I am going to trust in magic, and find me a look that enhances the best of the gray, yet diminishes the worst of it (the salt/pepper drabby ashy colored stuff…which there’s plenty of). Fingers crossed this magic doesn’t elude me. Toes crossed, eyes crossed…dead mango branches swinging from the awnings on a northeasterly rotation while the clock strikes six minutes after midnight. Whatever it takes…MAGIC. I want it.

I know this is a bold move on my part; regaining control of my hair. Honestly? I just want to move through my daily routine feeling like a better version of myself, and not some imposter staring back at me every single time I catch my image in the mirror.

Is that too much to ask? No. I think not.

#cancerschmancer

Riding Blind

The chamber is loaded and the hammer is cocked. The muzzle is aimed directly at me. I squeeze my eyes tight, waiting…waiting. I can hear the pounding of my own heartbeat and I can feel the blood coursing through my veins as I look within myself. I pray for the waiting to be over. Whether it’s a bullet or a blank, I just want them to get on with it. Deliver THE NEWS.

I grapple emotionally with the knowledge that whatever time remains for me, it is slipping away, and there is nothing I can do to recapture any of it. Not one single moment. JUST GIVE ME THE NEWS.

This is what it’s like for me. Russian Roulette. Every three months, each time I get a CT or a PET scan. I lose sleep at night wondering if it’s time to begin the big clean up…get rid of the tangible nonsense, so my kids and hubby don’t have to deal with it. I mean, what is there, really? I’m not a hoarder by any means, but I have hung onto things that have emotional significance to me, but to anyone else they’d simply wonder why the hell I was hanging on to that old thing. My closet is loaded with clothes I never wear, but they make me feel good looking at them. And then there’s letters and photos I’ve kept from decades ago…I already purged much of that. Dumped images of people that no one, aside from me, would know anything about.

Russian Roulette when you’re living with metastatic cancer goes like this:

If the news is good (say ‘stable’ or ‘remission’) when that trigger gets pulled, then it’s simply the sound of an empty chamber, a quiet click.  And I can breathe a huge sigh of relief while I shed a waterfall of joyful tears.

But if the news isn’t good, the gun goes off with a nasty blast, causing me to lose my emotional balance just momentarily as I absorb the shot. And it’s simply a matter of how lethal the shot really is…and did it hit a vital organ?

Positive attitude only takes you so far. You stay busy, upbeat, occupied, or just asleep…anything to keep your mind from wandering to a dark place. But no matter how well you’ve mastered that, it’s still a bit like riding blind.  You have good centered balance and navigate the turns well with strength of character and sheer faith, but you simply can’t prepare for what you can’t see.

And it’s so easy, SO EASY to get emotionally swept away by the incredibly comforting energy of positive thinking.   You begin to envision your celebratory victory lap as you now wait for the scan results to come in. But I know from experience, you can get completely blindsided by the proverbial gun when it in fact fires off a dreaded bullet.

Well, at long last…here’s THE NEWS (received 3 weeks ago…sorry, it took me some time to truly absorb it before I could publicly report it). This time around, all I heard was a simple click…the sound of a blank. The PET scan results confirmed that my cancer is stable. This means there is no change since the prior PET scan. Although my cancer is not in remission (the better outcome), it has not progressed any further. Godzilla is my new best friend, and I can breathe easier for another 12 weeks.

I’m STABLE.  I’ve said it out loud to hubby, to myself,  at random times.  The relief of that news was greater than I can adequately describe.

I’m back in the saddle and I’ve fully regained my balance.  Feeling so grateful.  So blessed.

#LiveTheDash