Life Happens Between Appointments

Hospital Waiting RoomAfter the diag­no­sis, Michel and I took the time we nee­ded to absorb it all and deal with it on an emo­tio­nal level. We were in wai­ting mode, wai­ting for the first appoint­ment with the onco­lo­gist who would tell us what kind of che­mothe­rapy treat­ment regi­men would be requi­red. We were wai­ting for the first appoint­ment with the radio­lo­gist who would tell us how the radia­tion treat­ments would be admi­nis­te­red. And we were wai­ting for test results to tell us what type of hor­mone the­rapy I would be given.

The wai­ting is one of the most dif­fi­cult things we need to deal with. Wai­ting to get more infor­ma­tion. Wai­ting to find out what hap­pens next. Wai­ting to learn how long I’ll be going through this.

Wai­ting to “live” again.

See, none of us expec­ted that this would hap­pen, and before I came down with breast can­cer (I say that as if I caught a cold or something), we had a lot of plans for this year and the coming one. I’ll never for­get the con­cer­ned expres­sion on the doctor’s face when this all first star­ted and he was trying to make us unders­tand that we were dea­ling with something pretty serious.

Before the wed­ding, our doc­tor was hesi­tant to reveal the whole pic­ture. He is such a kind man, and although he knew we nee­ded to hear the truth, he didn’t want to shat­ter our joy with our upco­ming wed­ding. So, although he men­tio­ned “breast can­cer”, he didn’t want to tell us everything right away. He didn’t want to tell us that was was already quite cer­tain about the diag­no­sis, and he defi­ni­tely didn’t want to men­tion that I would need a mas­tec­tomy as soon as we got back from our honeymoon.

But he knew that we nee­ded to start to face rea­lity, so he was as gentle as he could be with us, while deli­ve­ring his “too soon to tell for sure, but we think you might have can­cer” diag­no­sis. He tal­ked about the fact that once we got back from our honey­moon, we would need to start making some appoint­ments for tests and treatments.

So, Michel and I pulled out our trusty appoint­ment book and star­ted chec­king it against the doctor’s sug­ges­tions for upco­ming sche­du­les. In hind­sight, it was pretty comi­cal. The con­ver­sa­tion went a little like this…

OK, so we are get­ting married on Sun­day. Then, we are lea­ving for our cruise a few days later.

We get back from the cruise on the 26th, so we could book an appoint­ment any­time bet­ween the 28th and the 30th. But on the 31st, we’re on a plane to the UK and we won’t be back until the 4th of September.

I have calls sche­du­led all day on the 7th and the 8th, so neither of those days will work for us.

On the 13th, we’re gone again to speak in Vegas at the World Inter­net Sum­mit, as well as in Bal­ti­more at the Inter­net Mar­ke­ting Main Event. We’ll be back for a cou­ple of weeks, though, so anything you need to do we can do then.”

It was at this point that I clued in to the look on the doctor’s face. Dr. Chad­wick (bless his heart) reached out his hand very slowly and care­fully, and cove­red our appoint­ment book. The look on his face stop­ped me in my tracks. He loo­ked like he was afraid he was about to wit­ness the moment I snap­ped in two. He said, very gently, “You might want to rethink some of this and make room for what we need to do.”

THAT was the moment it sort of hit me.

My life was going to be com­ple­tely dif­fe­rent from now on, at least in the fore­seea­ble future. This wasn’t going to be something I could “pen­cil in” bet­ween calls and trips. This was serious, and it would alter the way our lives were going to be in the coming weeks and months, pos­sibly years.

Oh” was all I mana­ged to say out loud.

What flashed through my mind in that moment was quite a bit dif­fe­rent, but “Oh” was the only thing that came out of my mouth.

What flashed through my mind was all the plans we had made before this moment, all the semi­nars we would be atten­ding and spea­king at, all the pro­ducts we were going to be crea­ting, all the calls we would be doing, all the busi­ness we would be con­duc­ting, the move we were plan­ning for next year, and the baby we would be crea­ting in a cou­ple of years.

In one fell swoop, our care­fully laid plans were falling to pie­ces, and there was abso­lu­tely nothing we could do about it.

So, once we got back from our honey­moon and dis­co­ve­red that a mas­tec­tomy was una­voi­da­ble, we nee­ded to make some dra­ma­tic chan­ges to our sche­du­les so we could deal with the rea­lity of our situation.

We can­ce­lled calls to make room for medi­cal appoint­ments. We can­ce­lled trips we had already sche­du­led. We let peo­ple know that we wouldn’t be able to speak at their events in the coming few months.

But there is one semi­nar that I was deter­mi­ned we were not going to miss, if at all pos­si­ble, and that was the Big Semi­nar in Atlanta that’s coming up Octo­ber 27 — 30th.

We were worried that we wouldn’t be able to make it, due to the chemo treat­ments inter­fe­ring with my abi­lity to tra­vel. The timing of it all was very impor­tant to me.

There are some really good rea­sons why this par­ti­cu­lar semi­nar is so impor­tant for us to attend this year.

  1. First, it’s the Big Semi­nar, for crying out loud! All our friends are there for this event. It’s not called the Big Semi­nar for nothing. It is not only an inc­re­di­ble lear­ning expe­rience, its the semi­nar where some of our favo­rite peo­ple always attend, and we get the chance to hang out with some of the brigh­test and most fun peo­ple I’ve ever met. Wor­king from home can be a bit lonely some­ti­mes, and this semi­nar gives us the chance to share a few laughs with good friends.
  2. Second, Michel and I are sche­du­led spea­kers at this event, and I am also spea­king on my own this time. It was such an honor for Armand to even ask me to speak at that semi­nar, and I didn’t want to let him down. See, Armand Morin may be a good friend of ours, but he doesn’t make busi­ness deci­sions based on friendship. He doesn’t invite spea­kers to speak on his stage unless he is cer­tain they will over­de­li­ver to his guests, regard­less of any per­so­nal rela­tionship he may have with anyone. He is a smart and savvy busi­ness­man, and he doesn’t arrive at these deci­sions lightly. Being asked to speak at his semi­nar is a huge honor, and mis­sing this event wasn’t something I wan­ted to do.
  3. Third, this par­ti­cu­lar semi­nar is being held the wee­kend before Hallo­ween, which just hap­pens to be my birth­day. On Satur­day night, I’ve heard through the gra­pe­vine that they may be having a cos­tume con­test, and I have a cos­tume in mind that will give me the chance to laugh about having breast can­cer. I don’t want to miss my chance to poke fun at my own con­di­tion. I’m not going to tell what it is, because that would spoil the sur­prise, but I’m willing to bet there will be many peo­ple there who “get the joke” when I don this par­ti­cu­lar costume.
  4. Fourth, It will be my last chance to speak on stage for quite some time. From what I’ve been told, it will be months before I am well enough to tra­vel again, and I do not want to miss my chance to do what I love to do for a living. Years ago, I star­ted my com­pany, Wor​kaho​lics4Hire​.com, because I made a choice to do what I love and love what I do. In recent years, spea­king about what I love to do has become a new way for me to do what I love.

So, we have been on pins and need­les in the past few weeks, wai­ting to find out whether or not I would be able to fit just one semi­nar into my hea­ling schedule.

And thank­fully, my onco­lo­gist agreed to arrange the start of my first che­mothe­rapy treat­ment so that it would not inter­fere with my abi­lity to tra­vel to speak in Atlanta at the Big Seminar.

My first round of che­mothe­rapy will take place on Octo­ber 19th, which gives me just over a week to recou­pe­rate and be in fine spi­rits for the Big Semi­nar, and inci­den­tally, for my birth­day as well, before the next round of chemo.

I can’t even begin to desc­ribe how happy we are about this small blessing!

And this led me to con­si­der how I can choose to view the next few months of my life. See, I could choose to spend a lot of energy thin­king about things like “When is the next doctor’s appoint­ment?” or “What will hap­pen at the next treat­ment?” or “How will I feel after my next treat­ment?”. Ins­tead, I pre­fer to think of it in terms of “How can I live my life to its fullest?” and “What can I accom­plish this year that I wasn’t plan­ning for before this hap­pe­ned?” or even, “How can I adapt to these chan­ges to make it an even bet­ter year than I ever considered?”

Life hap­pens bet­ween medi­cal appoint­ments, not during them. My life will NOT con­sist solely of treat­ments, doc­tors, side effects, and medi­ca­tion schedules.

My life in the next few months will be filled with lots of laugh­ter and love, walks in the park, snow­ball fights, pla­ying with the dog, watching my favo­rite movies, rea­ding novels I’ve always meant to read, shop­ping, and lear­ning to let my friends and family take care of me while I take care of them too.

And if anyone wants to meet me in per­son, make sure you stop by at the Big Semi­nar, even if it’s only to find out what kind of cos­tume I will be wea­ring at the cos­tume party! I’m pretty sure you’ll get a kick out of it!

17 Comments so far »

  1. Shiela said on:

    September 29, 2006 at 6:03 pm

    I know I’m plan­ning on our family reu­nion next year and where we are going to go and when — and how many coo­kies do we need to bring!!!!

    laloo

  2. Suz said on:

    September 29, 2006 at 6:26 pm

    Your story made me smile. Thank you! I can so deeply iden­tify with your “miles­to­nes”. My sur­gery was 2 weeks before Christ­mas. They told me I wouldn’t go home before the holi­day (this was a looooong time ago!) and I told them I’d be out in 5 days. I made out in 4, grim­ma­cing the whole way, but I had things to do and peo­ple to see!

    It’s so impor­tant for those “little” things that bring you hope and drive and loo­king into the future with exci­te­ment and joy.

    I hope the Big Semi­nar ends up being the most spec­ta­cu­lar event you’ve ever atten­ded, and your “talk” wows them all. Good luck — can’t wait to see the cos­tume picture!

  3. abdellah said on:

    September 29, 2006 at 10:14 pm

    Life is there, bet­ween and in.
    Take care.

  4. Suzan St Maur said on:

    September 30, 2006 at 11:10 am

    For another truly uplif­ting story about bea­ting breast can­cer, have a look at the article here:

    http://​news​.bbc​.co​.uk/​1​/​h​i​/​u​k​/​5​3​8​9​4​2​6​.​stm

    Onwards and upwards!

  5. Frank said on:

    October 1, 2006 at 4:49 pm

    Syl­vie,

    I look for­ward to seeing you and Michel at Big Semi­nar again. Your right Big Semi­nar is always a blast as well as a great lear­ning experience.

    keep smi­ling

  6. Dr.Mani said on:

    October 1, 2006 at 9:25 pm

    Syl­vie, it’s nice to see you wri­ting on a more upbeat tone :)

    As part of his ins­pi­ring Stan­ford com­men­ce­ment address, Steve Jobs said this:

    If you wake up every day thin­king today is the last day of your life, one day you’ll defi­ni­tely be right!”

    My work with seriously ill chil­dren brings home more power­fully than to many others the pro­found truth of this sta­te­ment — but Jobs’ intent wasn’t to be mor­bid, but ins­tead to incul­cate a sense of urgency into what we do TODAY.

    Sure, tomo­rrow may not arrive for anyone — but there’s still 24 hours left until then… and a lot can be done in that time.

    My favo­rite quote is from one of India’s top freedom-​​fighters, Subash Chan­dra Bose. It goes:

    Yes­ter­day is gone. Tomo­rrow may never come. Today is yours. Act. Act. ACT.”

    Wish I could be at Big Semi­nar to meet you guys :)

    All suc­cess
    Dr.Mani

    P.S. — I’ll be mai­ling my list about Breast Can­cer Awa­re­ness Month.

  7. Adele said on:

    October 2, 2006 at 7:58 am

    Hi Syl­vie,

    First off I’d like to say that (even though I only “know” you through this and Michel’s blogs) I think you’re amazing.

    You pro­bably get thou­sands of well-​​meaning peo­ple giving you advice on how to handle your situa­tion and I pray that you won’t see me as “just another one of those”. But I came upon a book called “World without Can­cer” this wee­kend (star­ted rea­ding it right away and it is abso­lu­tely fas­ci­na­ting) and imme­dia­tely thought of you. So maybe when you’ve got time, you might check out these web­si­tes…
    http://​www​.world​without​can​cer​.org​.uk
    http://​www​.rea​lity​zone​.com/​w​o​r​w​i​t​c​a​n​.​h​tml
    http://​www​.cre​dence​.org/​t​e​s​t​i​m​o​n​/​t​e​s​t​i​m​o​n​w​w​c​.​htm (testimonies)

    I pray that God will give you wis­dom, cou­rage and strength, but above all peace and healing.

    Regards,
    Adele (South Africa)

  8. Gail said on:

    October 2, 2006 at 7:55 pm

    Sylive, I am so touched by your story, your up-​​beat atti­tude and your abi­lity to ‘see’ beyond this hour — although some­ti­mes just living this hour is all anyone can do.

    I’ve been strug­gling with wri­ting to you. I have something that has been weighing on my mind ever since Michel wrote to his list. I know that there are peo­ple who are wri­ting to you with all kinds of advice, treat­ments, diets, ideas, pla­ces etc. to help you heal.

    I would just like to add that it is impor­tant that you do your own research on your own can­cer. Although your phy­si­cian may be caring and love you dearly he won’t be going through the treat­ments and expe­rien­cing the con­se­quen­ces of his decisions.

    I’m in the medi­cal field and although I res­pect my field and the prac­ti­tio­ners immen­sely I would NEVER receive a diag­no­sis without doing the research myself. Espe­cially since almost everything is avai­la­ble on line today.

    Phy­si­cians make mis­ta­kes. Treat­ments are avai­la­ble they may know nothing about. Alter­na­tive treat­ments can be done with stan­dard medi­cal care. The list goes on.

    I was lis­te­ning to the radio the other day, to a woman who had tra­ve­lled to Washing­ton to request con­ti­nued fun­ding for can­cer research. She was a five year sur­vi­vor and was spea­king with our State Sena­tor to encou­rage his support.

    While on the radio she recoun­ted a recent visit to her doc­tor where she had expres­sed exci­te­ment because she had pas­sed the five year miles­tone. His reply was that in her par­ti­cu­lar case the can­cer was less aggres­sive in the first five years and more aggres­sive in the second five.

    She was pretty up beat about the pros­pect of wai­ting out another five years and very sure that can­cer research would con­ti­nue to bene­fit her case. And I hope, and pray, that it will.

    Howe­ver, it sca­red me that someone who knew nothing about her own can­cer was cho­sen to speak to the State Senate about the can­cers of many.

    We are all res­pon­si­ble for our own health. The deci­sions we make affect US and we have to be very sure of them. I know you take your diag­no­sis seriously. I only ask that you and others not blindly place your trust in another human being. Dou­ble check them and tri­ple check them because when it comes down to it we are all res­pon­si­ble for our own health and we are the only ones who can make those deci­sions. Make deci­sions using good information.

    I wish you and Michel all the best.

    Warmly,

    Gail

  9. Tatiana Velitchkov said on:

    October 4, 2006 at 12:08 am

    Hi Syl­vie,

    Each time that I read your posts I am so filled
    with awe about your strength and cou­rage!
    You go Girl! You’ll be the Star at the Big
    Semi­nar in Atlanta and I so wish I could be
    there & meet you and Mike and shake
    the hands of both of you & hug you with
    my hearth felt blessings…

    Syl­vie, I really admire you for your strength
    and for the love you ins­pire in others and give
    so gra­ciously!
    And so sure I am that you’ll win over the can­cer
    and when you look back­ward on this phase in
    your life it will seem like a movie that you’ve seen
    and don’t quite remem­ber when or where…
    and you’ll be asking your­self — did it hap­pen to me,
    or did I just dream about it all…you’ll see dear.

    Wishing you the grea­test time in Atlanta at the Big
    Semi­nar, and all the love and bles­sings in the world!
    And above all — that you heal com­ple­tely and fast dear…

    Tatiana

  10. David Leal said on:

    October 4, 2006 at 4:48 am

    Syl­vie,

    I’m wri­ting this here because I don’t know if you got my mail: I also don’t know if you are doing this already, but if you aren’t, please con­si­der visi­ting a good homeo­path. While stu­dies about the bene­fits of natu­ral medi­ci­nes in can­cer treat­ment pro­ved inconc­lu­sive, I’m sure it won’t hurt you to try either.

    For exam­ple, Dirk Bene­dict (the “Face­man” from TV show A-​​Team) claims to have hea­led his pros­tate can­cer with nothing but a mac­ro­bio­tic diet reco­men­ded by Glo­ria Swanson.

    You can read about it here:

    http://​en​.wiki​pe​dia​.org/​w​i​k​i​/​D​i​r​k​_​B​e​n​e​d​i​c​t​#​H​e​a​lth

    I wish you all the best,

    David

  11. Shariq said on:

    October 4, 2006 at 5:04 am

    one of the first ever quote i remem­ber that had a deep effect on me was..

    you make the world spe­cial… just by being in it!”

    n that’s you sylvie…

    i havn’t seen anyone be so cou­ra­gous.. so damn strong
    n upbeat in such a situtation..

    u truly are a hero that makes the world special.

    .….….….…. just by being in it!

    keep smi­lin’! :-)

  12. Mikki said on:

    October 9, 2006 at 1:50 am

    Hi Syl­vie,

    I sent you an email a while back but I’m not sure you got it so I thought
    I would let you know how I’m doing here in your blog,
    I would say that I have been having simi­lar expe­rien­ces to yours. I was only in the hos­pi­tal post-​​op for another 2 days. (a record for me). They put me on anti­bio­tics & pain meds (leva­quin & dar­va­cet) & sent me home. The pain meds were help­ful, but ran out too fast for me.
    I am having pro­blems adjus­ting to the drains…one was remo­ved 5 days ago, but the other has to stay in a little lon­ger til the fluids drai­ning are redu­ced. I can’t wait!
    I deve­lo­ped a slight infec­tion in the area of the inci­sion, so that is also being watched.
    The other day my sur­geon told me that 5 or 6 can­cer cells were found in 1 of the 2 lymph­no­des that were remo­ved. So on Oct. 24th I will be back in the hos­pi­tal to have the rest remo­ved. I guess I con­si­der myself lucky that the cells were found now, before sprea­ding to the rest of my body.
    All other pro­ce­du­res, the­ra­pies are put on hold until this is done.

    I think of you every­day & won­der how you are doing. I was happy to see that you are sta­ying posi­tive & loo­king for­ward to doing things that make you happy.
    You are a won­der­ful exam­ple to peo­ple like me. You are one of those who have hel­ped me to be strong through it all.
    Thank you!
    I keep you, Michel & your family in my pra­yers as always.

    God Bless,
    Mikki

  13. Regina said on:

    October 9, 2006 at 5:50 pm

    Syl­vie,

    You are an exam­ple of what it means to live life to it’s fullest. Con­ti­nue to laugh… laugh a lot and live in joy! I look for­ward to rea­ding and sha­ring your blog with others…because you are an ins­pi­ra­tion to many!

    My pra­yers are with you and your family.

    Bles­sings,
    Regina

  14. Ladan Lashkari said on:

    October 10, 2006 at 4:01 am

    Syl­vie,

    What a great point you made! I read all your post and really enjo­yed thin­king about what you said. I espe­cially loved this part where you said:

    My life in the next few months will be filled with lots of laugh­ter and love, walks in the park, snow­ball fights, pla­ying with the dog, watching my favo­rite movies, rea­ding novels I’ve always meant to read, shop­ping, and lear­ning to let my friends and family take care of me while I take care of them too.”

    You’re so right Syl­vie. Some­ti­mes we focus on the “not so good” parts of our life so much that we for­get 99% of our time is NOT about those things — but great moments that we can really enjoy.

    It’s only a mat­ter of deci­ding which part you want to focus on.

    Thank you Syl­vie and I wish you all the best, :-)

    Ladan

  15. Anji said on:

    October 10, 2006 at 11:45 am

    I’ve just read your blog and would like to say how much your cou­rage has impres­sed me. I’d just been wri­ting about my own mam­mo­gram a cou­ple of minu­tes before. I was ama­zed that women in the US aren’t offe­red mam­mo­grams for free. Here in France women over 50 are invi­ted to have an full exa­mi­na­tion every two years.

    All the best for the future

  16. Allison said on:

    October 11, 2006 at 7:41 am

    Syl,

    You know I wouldn’t miss the big semi­nar for anything!!!! If only just to FINALLY meet you and Michel…as well as get pic­tu­res of you in your cos­tume???? No way would I miss it! I am coun­ting down the days, and sen­ding many, many hugs your way! :)

  17. Julies Journal - just julie's journal said on:

    October 11, 2006 at 1:18 pm

    Breast Can­cer Awa­re­ness Month…

    It’s been just over a year now since I had my scare of having breast can­cer, so I thought I would touch on the sub­ject just a bit since Octo­ber is Breast Can­cer Awa­re­ness Month. As scary as that was.…..

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