Thriving Past Cancer: Marine's Journey

When I posted in late June, I stood on the brink of a vast adventure in Scotland, an experience meant to mark the end of a chapter embedded with a mysticism only one's imagination can concoct. Spending time with  Magical Mary  and  Life Changing Liza  completed the end of something huge, or so I thought. It represented the finish line and the runner in me saw the end glimmering with hope.  Scotland held transformative powers and going there, spending time with kindred brethren would undoubtedly cleanse me of any leftover toxicity. I built it up in my mind, as we all do of events we look forward to.  I envisioned how it would feel to finally put my death dance with cancer behind me, to stand atop the highlands and inhale the fresh breath of life and know that all would be okay.   Sorry, this isn’t Hollywood! One moment doesn’t carry such power, especially when that moment has been shaped by our expectations. Disney characters exist...

June 26th is anther one of those days which resonates in volumes, at least for me. It goes up there with September 11th, December 25th, and January 1st. Year in and year out, each of these days mark a day in which short term memories have transformed into long term ones. We all have similar days, our birthdays, the day our children were born, the day a friend/parent died. I remember numerous June 26ths, some quite fondly for it is the day I married the love of my life. Nineteen years ago today, we became a team, for better or for worse, he became the Yin to my Yang. Somewhere in between 1999 and 2017 the whirling of life  picked us up and tousled us about. Some anniversaries were marked by dinners and presents, especially the first few while others slipped from memory like a dream. Ryan was as guilty of this as I. Within the comfortable walls of our relationship, marking days became irrelevant, unnecessary. Until June 26th, 2017 left us no option. Last June 26th was the day o...

I was seventeen when my niece, Sarin Wakimian, was born. I was transitioning between teenhood and adulthood, preparing myself for endless college possibilities, planning my perfect future, questioning life, because obviously that's something we humans love doing: would I travel the world and become a famous reporter, write novels in a cabin off of Walden Pond, or treat patients in a psych ward somewhere? I dreamt, as all children do. And I dreamt big. Sarin penetrated my dreams. She drew me out of my teenage egocentricism and brought into my world a freshness I had yet to experience. I held her, played with her, and loved her intensely. Two years into my college revelry, Sarin began exhibiting physical ailments that impacted her life. Inflammation hindered her ability to walk and instead of toddling and running around she began to withdraw into her own hell. A frown replaced her smile as her reality shifted. She slowly lost her mobility and just when children are preparing f...

If you ask any kid what he/she wants to be, they all claim they want stardom. They want to become famous you-tubers or gamers, fame being the underlying constant. I dare you to examine your own desires. What makes you happy? Praise? A bonus on your paycheck? Recognition? A bigger house? A nicer car?    Most of us grew up playing The Game of Life and what we aspired to achieve on that board game has engrained itself upon our souls as truth. Somehow, we’ve become brainwashed into thinking we need and want more.   I don’t know about you, but I have an inner drive that reminds me of a wind-up toy. There were times in my life that I felt the urge for more and went for it. Two masters-degrees later, a home, a husband, a great job, and two kids to boot, I’ve realized that I’ve been playing the adult version of “LIFE.”  Cancer helped me pause the game. It helped me sit back and reevaluate the rush towards the end. Why are we headed there with blindfolds on?...

Recently a student approached me and asked, "Ms, will you please help me put on a talent show for our school?" I asked, "Why? Why do we need one?" Her response, "Because people need to smile more!" This child and I share a common secret. I know the depths of the hell she's endured as surely as she knows the ones I walked through last year. She hasn't shared her truth with others. I'm not quite sure how many people actually know. But when I lay in my hospital bed last year, a pigeon in the guise of a fellow educator brought me a message from her, one which she hoped would give me enough strength with which to rise out of my darkness. I held on to her testimony as the days melted into each other. Had she not shared, had her words evaporated in her mind- Her word-her journey- her testimony shaped my today. Just like each of our words will shape the lives of others. I haven't actively sought out others. They seem to find me, be it a...

On the brink of a new year, I can’t help but pause to reflect upon this 365-day journey. Christmas of 2016 is when my cancerous adventure started. Since then, I’ve walked numerous paths-some metaphorical and some literal. Within one full year, I was diagnosed with cancer, endured western medicine, submerged myself in eastern medicine to reclaim my life, was donned as being in remission and have traveled to both Hawaii and Grass Valley looking for answers. I sought an end to my mental confusion. I sought a rebirth on the volcanic spiritual grounds of a culture that has changed over time… I sought peace. I came to realize many truths last week-some of which I’d like to share with you for one of those truths led me to the realization that we are all walking challenging paths, clouded with hope and sorrow on any given day. I was reading a JIMBO TIMES: the LA Storyteller blog, when I realized that each of us in his/her own right are wrestling with similar questions: Why am I ...

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is one of the after effects of cancer. There are no ands or ifs about it. According to the Anxiety and Depression Association (AADA) of America, PTSD is apparent when individuals “re-experience trauma through intrusive distressing recollections of an event, flashbacks, and nightmares.” I’m now four months out of my last chemo session and I still feel the effects of distress whenever anybody talks about cancer or the death of a mother, or the lonesome life a child will live after losing his/her parent. In last week’s blog I described how my middle school students wrote letters to the little nine-year-old boy named Jacob, who is dying of cancer. What I didn’t tell you is that I did not sleep much that week. I awoke with tremors every night, barely able to breath. But awareness of a malady and action to resolve the effects are two distinctly different beasts. So, I started researching. I wanted to know what the indicators of PTSD were so that I c...