Unexpected News
In late February, while visiting friends and family in Santa Cruz, I received a phone call from my dermatologist. Before I drove north, he had removed a mole from my breast and sent the tissue for testing. The diagnosis, he now informed me, was malignant melanoma. Cancer. It took a few days to sink in, but when it did, I was terrified.
I knew very little about skin cancer, so each night in my hotel room I used the internet to educate myself. I spent much of March googling medical education sites, and the more I read, the more anxious I became. I learned about the various forms of skin cancer, the most aggressive being melanoma. I read about biopsies, sentinel lymph nodes, excision, immunotherapy, side effects, and outcomes. The result was TMI — too much information. Most of which didn’t apply to me or my specific situation.
After a few weeks, I decided to stop googling. I was making myself crazy, imagining all the worst outcomes and lying awake at night trying to figure out the logistics of surgery and chemo with a dog and grandchildren and living alone. Would I be able to cope with a lengthy treatment?
Facing My Fears
In the weeks to follow, I saw more physicians and underwent more tests than I had experienced in my entire previous life. Most of them were not traumatic, or even painful, but my fear made everything worse. Fortunately, wonderful friends wrote reassuring notes, shared their own experiences, and even drove me to procedures and held my hand. One of those friends drove down from Monterey to accompany me to a diagnostic test that particularly frightened me. As we walked to the car after the procedure, she mentioned that she’d never been to the Getty, and could we perhaps do that now? I don’t know if she had that in mind, but strolling around the magnificent gardens of the Getty Center normalised the day for me. It reminded me what a beautiful world we live in, and that I was not ready to leave it just yet. I committed to follow whatever treatment plan my doctors recommend.
The next morning we went for a hike at King Gillette Ranch. By the time my friend returned to Monterey, I was feeling much better about the journey ahead.
The next challenge I would face was surgery. My surgeon would remove the rest of the cancerous mole and one or more lymph nodes to see if the cancer had spread.
Taking Charge
Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while know that I don’t like change. I also want to be in control of any situation. True to form, I made long to-do lists, caught up on correspondence and paying bills, made kennel arrangements for Kismet, subscribed to a plant-based meal service, and filled my fridge and cupboards with food. I also set up a NOK Box, a file box for my next of kin containing most of my important records and files, including passwords, power of attorney, and advance directives for health care. I’ve been meaning to do that for years, and the uncertainty of the future pushed me to label the files and fill them with lots of useful stuff.
Some of you will think that I was being pessimistic, but actually, I was just harnessing my anxiety by trying to take control. Even though my life had suddenly spun out of control.
Surgery
As I prepared to be on the couch for a week or more after surgery, I bought two planter boxes and trellises for my patio. I filled them with soil and scattered sweet pea seeds so I would have something to look forward to during my recovery. I downloaded several audiobooks to my phone. Stocked up on Kismet’s kidney diet. By the time we left for the hospital, I had even emptied the dishwasher and folded and put away all my laundry, two of my least-liked chores.
Recovery
My lovely daughter-in-law shepherded me through the surgery. She picked me up from my condo at 6:00 am for a 7:30 check-in, then took me to the Nuclear Medicine department at UCLA Medical Center, where a technician used a scanner and ultrasound to locate and mark my lymph nodes. Then it was to Surgical Oncology for the final event.
When I awakened after surgery, Emily was there to help me dress and drive me home. I was in a nice little bubble, still somewhat under the anesthesia, which was gradually replaced by acetaminophen and hydrocodone. I wasn’t in pain at all. The rest of the week passed in a bit of a fog. I took pain meds every six hours, ate the plant-based meals I had ordered, and slept or watched videos the rest of the time.
There were two PBS programs I binge-watched that seemed like points of light, and I am still thinking about them: America Outdoors, moderated by Baratunde Thurston, and A Brief History of the Future, hosted by Ari Wallach. I share them with you because they both present optimistic views of the future, and our society desperately needs optimism right now.
Emerging from the Cocoon
A week after surgery I felt well enough to take an evening walk.
As I emerged from my cocoon, this view awaited me:
Life is strange. I can’t predict the future, but I will take the rainbow as a sign that good things are ahead. Not the cancer treatment – I know that will be hard – but a chance to think about what I want the latest chapter of my life to look like, and to plan some adventures to help me focus on the future.
I’ve always wanted to take a European river cruise. I’ve also tried three times and failed to visit Pompei and Herculaneum. And for some reason, I’ve never learned to play chess. I think I’ll start by buying a chess set. My seven-year-old granddaughter has offered to teach me to play.
To be continued . . .
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Oh, Marlene—this is hard. I’m really sorry you’re going through it. Yet I know you are strong and resilient, and you adapt to your circumstances time and time again. You don’t have to manage this; life will keep guiding you.
Thanks, coach! You always know the right things to say.
I’m thinking of you and praying for you Marlene. I know you will get through this just like you did when you had the accident in Morgan Hill. I saw how strong you were then and with that positive attitude you have always had, you will be fine. I hope your recovery goes well and subsequent treatments will not interrupt your life so much. Let us know how you are doing. Hugs from your old friend!… Jonine
Thank you, Jonine. I hope you are right. M.
My lovely friend Marlene: it’s been too long since we saw you in Yorkshire. Life happens, and then it doesn’t. I’m practicing living in the moment, being super sociable and making friends of all ages and ethnicities. However, time by yourself is important to allow your body & mind to heal from trauma.
How about I recommend a holiday on the Amalfi coast near Naples, and a lovely river cruise on the Rhone in Provence, France? Either of which I enjoyed, and would love to do with you. Email me!
Oh my god – that holiday and river cruise sound wonderful. I had already thought of taking a trip to Yorkshire, but cruising with you, or traveling together — now that is something to look forward to.
Sending you prayers of healing and comfort. Please know that as you write about your journey to wellness, we will be with you on this journey and praying for you the whole way. Stay strong and positive.
Thank you, Sharon. It’s so good to know that you will be on this journey with me.
Oh, my dear, I had no idea you were going through this. A nasty jolt from the blue. But you are a most resilient and strong woman, and I know you will fight this with everything you’ve got. If there is anything I can do to assist, I hope you will call on me. I am at all times at the other end of a phone line, and I think you have my number.
Kathy, I do and I will. Thanks.
P.S. Thanks for the introduction to the NOK Box! Have you had fun with it?
Lisette,
Yes, I have had fun with the NOK box. I created something like this for my partner Dennie’s daughter when he developed dementia, but the developers of the NOK box have taken it up a notch.
Marlene,
Sorry about this bump in the road.
Hope your future is good and cancer-free.
My family deals with skin cancer all the time, but so far, none have been melanoma, but close extended family members have. We spent too much time in the sun.
You are doing all you can, remember to rest and enjoy life. Taking care of yourself is important.
Your bucket list should make great blogging material.
Thanks, Shelly – You reminded me that I am not alone on this journey; many people have traveled this way before. I hope to learn from them.
🤍 Sending you warm healing thoughts!
Thank you, Consuelo.
Ah, Marlene. What a brave and wonderful human you are. Do you wonder about your legacy? I know some people don’t. I would think by being so active in the lives of your grandchildren, through sunny and overcast times, you bequeath them resilience. And love.
I do wonder about my legacy. Have I helped to prepare my children and grandchildren for the future? I see hopeful signs, but one can’t know.
Thinking about you Marlene. I have always known you to be a positive person and yes I can see the take control aspect. You like to help things happen. Putting what you want, need into action. For a writer, seeing your thoughts and feelings in words helps. For the rest of us, your words are a source of inspiration. So hard to deal with cancer. In my experience, everyone does it differently. Cancer is the major epidemic of our times. In our covid few years, we forget how many people die of cancer all the time.We forget how brave people are to face down their fears and continue to have good lives despite cancer looking over their shoulder.
Glad you are on the road to mending. Glad you have support. Sending healing light and a little courage energy.
Thank you, Gaby. I think of you tonight on the eve of Passover. How important these celebrations and traditions are for keeping us grounded and balanced. I know hard times are coming, and I’ll gratefully take the light and courage you offer.
Hi Marlene: I always read your posts and enjoy the warmth in them –but I don’t tell you that I enjoy them! I’m bad! I know your idea of blogging works out fully if your readers interact with you. I will do so from now on. I want to tell you how much I appreciated your latest post and your inviting us readers into your world. I can relate to going crazy looking up about health issues on the Internet as well as to your need to try to control whatever aspects of the situation you could. I hope your post-surgery treatments go well and that the chemo or radiation are kept manageable for you so that you can continue to enjoy life and transmit your feelings and thoughts so palpably to us. I’m sending a hug over the air. Bea–
Thank you, Bea, for your kind words. Sharing my story with my readers is one way I can control the message – and writing about things always helps me to understand them better.
Hi Marlene: I always read your posts and enjoy the warmth in them –but I don’t tell you that I enjoy them! I’m bad! I know your idea of blogging works out fully if your readers interact with you. I will do so from now on. I want to tell you how much I appreciated your latest post and your inviting us readers into your world. I can relate to going crazy looking up about health issues on the Internet as well as to your need to try to control whatever aspects of the situation you could. I hope your post-surgery treatments go well and that the chemo or radiation are kept manageable for you so that you can continue to enjoy life and transmit your feelings and thoughts so palpably to us. I’m sending a hug over the air. Bea–
Thanks for sharing Marlene. I am so happy you’ve had good care. I have never learned to play chess either; my fourteen year old granddaughter said she would teach me this summer. I love to be the student under her tutelage. Go and do whatever you want. Be free however you can in body and mind. Live it up!
I love your advice — it’s very much the same as my son John said to me. I think he was in one of your classes. I’m definitely going to travel . . .
Marlene, I really enjoy your newsletter and all your publishings. I found you when our first grandson was born and I was looking for grandparenting advice. He is now two and I continue to read your posts and have recommended your newsletter to my friends. Please take care and I will be sending good thoughts your way for a quick full recovery. Your Shari g of this journey will help others and I thank you for that. Your daughter in law sounds wonderful as does your granddaughter. How lucky you are to be near them. Get well soon! And please keep sharing your thoughts.
Thank you for those kind words, Prudence. It warms my heart to know that you gain value from my words. I will of course continue to write, about my journey, about my grandchildren, about my garden . . . More later.