When the Universe Delivers a Swift Shift in Perspective
- At February 06, 2016
- By Jeannine Gailey
- In Blog
- 19
I’ve been absent here due to a bit of a health crisis. The scary kind that catches you unaware, even me, seasoned health-problem pro that I am!
I was feeling crunched, worrying about finishing an essay for the upcoming Horror Writers Association newsletter, an article for Poet’s Market, edits for my PR for Poets book and trying to find blurbs for my upcoming poetry book, Field Guide to the End of the World. I was a little stressed, a little under the weather, trying to balance my writing life and everything else. Ironically, perhaps, I was also working on a talk I was supposed to give this Monday at UW Tacoma on overcoming discouragement and rejection.
But life likes to throw a little curve ball at us once in a while, and that’s what happened this week. Not only was I in the hospital by Wednesday, but I was given unexpected news due to some of the tests.
I know a lot of my friends in their forties, and even thirties, have already been through cancer scares, and I’ve even been though a couple myself. (I remember one doctor telling me when I was twenty: “It’s AIDS, lupus, or cancer. We’ll know on Monday. Have a good weekend!” PS: It was none of those things.) But in doing some tests for some terrible abdominal pain, they found something that might or might not be a serious kind of cancer. Only, they left me waiting in bed, not giving me any of my test results, for hours, which is unusual – in the same hospital a couple of months ago, they’d cheerfully come in to let us know the results of the same tests they’d run on me for Glenn within minutes of getting the tests. The nurse, when I inquired, said the ER doc would come in and give me the test results “after he talked to my doctor on the phone” – and the ER doc wouldn’t look me in the eyes as he gave me my diagnosis and check out information, telling me to follow up with my doctor as soon as possible. When they gave me my printed reports, there were the words from both the doctor and the radiology report: “concerning for metastasis.” I was on both painkillers, allergy and nausea medicines when I received the news, but woke up the next day thinking: Oh my God. What? It made all the things I’d been stressing out about seem puny and unimportant in comparison. I had to cancel a bunch of things as I rested up, barely able to eat or sleep for two days from the continued nausea and pain, intermittently looking up things like “Tumor Marker blood tests” and “what else could explain x (what they saw on the CT scan) besides cancer?”
One of the benefits – yes, benefits – of these kinds of health scares, the kind I’m going through now, is a kind of flipped switch of perspective. I’d been agonizing over rejections and no’s from people I’d asked for blurbs one day, and then the next I was thinking: Have I accomplished what I wanted to with my life? What would I regret not doing? How could I approach the end – if I had to – with grace and verve, like one of my role models who is going through liver cancer right now, still traveling and living like she has all the time in the world. She has not let herself become anything anyone would call a “victim.” But boy, it’s scary stuff, this life. All of us have an expiration date, though it’s easy to forget that. It’s easy not tell people we love them, easy to get mired down in the details of tax receipts and chores and minor complaints. I feel very lucky to have had the good breaks that I’ve had – happy to have some family living around me now, a great supportive husband, happy to have my fifth poetry book coming out this year.
If you had told me at thirteen the good and bad things that were coming, I don’t think I would have done anything differently. My body has certainly been an uncertain vessel, from the time I was in my early twenties – thwarting my attempt at a technology management career that perhaps wasn’t my best destiny anyway – keeping my from traveling to some of the places I’d still like to see – though I’ve made it to Paris three times, I’d still like to see England, Ireland, maybe the South Pacific. But mostly I’ve done the things I wanted to do, with the people I wanted to do them with. If I don’t get to accomplish everything else I had planned, well, I still think I’d be happy with what I’ve done.
Hey, maybe this is nothing, another incidental finding, another scare and nothing more. I hope so. In the meantime, maybe I won’t sweat the rejections, the bill paying, the continual grating annoyances of being alive, as much. Maybe I’ll be moved to be braver with my energy, my heart, and my writing. This feels pretty brave, right now – talking about this in public – and hopefully it might help someone else going through something similar, because, isn’t that why we write in the first place?
Lesley Wheeler
Oh, man, Jeannine. Thinking of you.
Jan Priddy
Oh, my dear. You are a reminder to us all with your style and grace, sharing your wisdom in poetry and real life. I hold you in my thoughts. ❤
Pat Fargnoli
oh Jeannine! I’m thinking of you too and sending hopes that the pain will go and the news will be good news.
You are an inspiration to me too, always.
hugs,
Pat
Penny Harter
Hang in there, Jeannine. As I recently found out with my diagnosis, whatever it is you can get through it. You can do it! And maybe it won’t be as bad as you are worrying about right now. Sending prayers, love, and light your way!
Lynn Pedersen
Thinking about you, Jeannine, and sending good energy your way!
Suzanne Edison
This is the BIG LIFE INTRUSION that most of us will get someday. And you are so right that it flips our perspective and I’m grateful you are writing about it. It is always a wake-up call when a friend or family member is stricken with unwanted health news. I am keeping fingers crossed that it will be something else. In the meantime, lots of hugs to you.
Kristin Berkey-Abbott
I hope your expiration date is many decades in the future. Keeping you in my thoughts (and prayers too, if that’s cool with you).
Donna Vorreyer
Thinking of you – sending hope and courage across the miles. And love. Lots of love.
Sian
Thinking of you and hoping you get some better news in the coming days. If I can help in any way, just say so. xxx
Jennifer Bullis
Wise reflections in the face of a scary situation. I’ll be thinking about you and maintaining hope for good news as you await further test results. Thank you so much, Jeannine, for writing about what you’re going through.
Carol lynn Grellas
Dear Jeannine
I am keeping you in my prayers and my heart. You are and continue to be an inspiration to me not only in your beautiful writing but in your zest for life, your generous spirit and grace. You are a wonderful mentor and friend. Sending you love and hugs.
Carol Lynn
Rebecca Loudon
Oh love I am keeping all my fingers crossed and have lit the little Red candle for your safekeeping. Doctors! What do they know. xoxox
Karen
So keeping you in my thoughts this weekend, and wishing you strength for the wait ahead (I agree with Rebecca Loudon — doctors…what do they know!)
Yvonne Higgins Leach
Yes it is why we write! And your courage to do so is admirable. Sending you good thoughts and prayers.
Molly
This August I went to the ER for the first time because I was having abdominal pain. I was dismissed in a really confounding and terrible way, but the CT scan showed some abnormalities. Turns out some of my organs had been fusing together, and I had a sarcoma in my abdomen–they actually thought it was endometriosis, but when they went in, they discovered something scarier. I am not saying this to make it scarier for you–my lumps was removed and I will continue to be monitored but it’s highly treatable with more surgery or radiation or chemo–but to just say that I hear you. My mother was aghast because she thinks I’ve sort of used up a lot of medical difficulties, but all I can say is that I’m still here and will be for the long haul. I hope that continues to be true for you! Sending all good thoughts.
Jeannine Gailey
Thank you so much for your good thoughts, prayers, and encouragement. They mean so much to me. I’m still feeling pretty lousy today (solid food still = bad) so these really cheered me up.
Melanie
thinking of you and hoping the news is much less dire than you fear —
Michael Schein
Jeannine! There’s much love & respect for you in the poetry community. You are held in a big group hug. Your courage is shining thru your writing. Thanks for letting us know, and please don’t hesitate to ask for help.
Kathleen
Thanks for sharing this shift in perspective, which I will take to heart while my heart beats good vibrations your way.