the c-word or ten pieces of advice

once, at memorial sloan kettering, as a scottish chemo nurse was sticking an iv into my arm - ugh, i still feel nauseated just thinking about it - she murmured to me, "it does seem that people often develop cancer after an emotional crisis."

in my case, i can almost pinpoint when it happened. it was the beginning of march 2009. somehow, i always feel optimistic in the spring. the light changes and there's the smell of the thawing earth. in my old apartment, we woke to the sound of birds in the park.

in the fall of 2008, my freelance career seemed to run dry and by the spring, my savings and perfect credit rating were decimated. we were on the verge of being evicted from our apartment in the building we'd lived in for 17 years.

i was reduced to one goal, to keep my kids fed, clothed and in one place until the end of the school year, especially because it was a crucial year for sasha.

my now-extremely successful exhusbands combined forces to respond to my request for regular child support based on their incomes: "we are unwilling to support your unsustainable lifestyle..." one suggested i go on food stamps.

we downscaled, sold our clothes and furniture, moved into a tiny basement apartment around the corner using shopping carts, strollers and helpful college students. i made the place habitable myself with endless trips to ikea. my old landlord sued me. my other exhusband used this opportunity to sue me for all the money he didn't give us. they set up an emotional lynching and left all of us reeling. the wiring on my car was eaten by rats.

i fell behind on the mortgage payments.

then the place started flooding every time it rained. i complained to the building management and they ignored me. (i'm laughing because i sound like job)

last week, a friend of mine got mad at me for swimming every day because chlorine increases cancer risks, some say by 93% but here's the thing i believe

cancer is caused by stress.

stress, tension, anxiety, emotional distress - whatever combination of all of those things.

you know how when you tell a friend not to do something unhealthy and they say, "my grandmother smoked a pack a day and lived on lard until she was 105 and never got cancer..."

that's because you can be exposed to all kinds of horrid things and nothing can get to you until your emotions let your body down. it's a way of checking out.

i have more than one friend who never smoked a day in his life and got lung cancer. serious enough for surgery. i have a very young friend who got cancer in his spine and was gone before he was 27.

it's not to say that they consciously wished to die. but sometimes, the pressure is just too much.

when i started chemo at memorial sloan kettering and discovered that dying of cancer was not nearly as romantic as consumption - in fact, it was painful and slow and awful no matter how quick and aggressive your cancer was - i decided i was going to get well. and fast.

i was lucky on one side. my particular cancer had a 70% success with chemotherapy (30% death rate is still high, isn't it?) i had no metases (rather, when i was diagnosed, i had black spots in my brain and my lungs, that showed the cancer had spread. they receded. i put that down to giving up sugar, caffeine and animal products as soon as i was diagnosed, though at first the cancer seemed to be in my brain, it either receded or it wasn't there to begin with) and the tumor shrank by half two weeks after i changed my diet.

so i told my doctor that i was well.

she said, "you're in denial."

i said, "cancer is the most psychosomatic disease there is. so i am going to believe that i am well and then i will be well."

she said, "we don't subscribe to that sort of thing at memorial sloan kettering. we don't believe cancer is some sort of punishment or there's some reason. we believe cancer just happens."

i laughed, "i don't think it's a punishment either."

in some ways, cancer can feel like a reward. a get-out-of-jail-free card. like in tom sawyer, where they go their funerals and hear everyone saying regretful things about them. people are so scared of cancer, it seems so incredibly bad, that they almost HAVE to feel sorry. you get to experience the i'll-bet-they'll-be-sorry-now in real life. when you're emaciated and bald with bloodshot eyes, people feel uncomfortable being mean to you (however, often the people you hope to spite manage to go right on).

sadly, the cutting-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face pleasure is pretty short-lived.

even nice people get tired of being nice to you.

so here's what else i believe:

there is a cure for cancer.

actually, curing cancer is sort of like curing a cold. not to make too light of it, because a cold can turn into pneumonia or bronchitis and then it's a lot harder to cure, and sometimes, there's a part of you that just gets tired and gives up.

like colds, there is only so much the medical profession can do. if you want to get well, you have to commit to it yourself. and you have to be willing to trade all those people being nice to you for a big fight, both with yourself and your friends and family and doctors. it is not easy.

but if you want to stay around for little while longer, it is worth it.

so here, again, are my first pieces of advice if you even suspect the c-word.

this is what you for yourself do while all the doctors and relatives are running you around like an animal trying to figure out what is actually wrong and how to pinpoint and treat it.

i am not a doctor so i can't propose treatments, but i promise this will make you feel better.

1. stop eating simple sugars (including fruit, honey, potatoes, wheat, rice), soy, caffeine and ALL animal products.

every chance you get, eat organic. if you can be choosy, eat cruciferous vegetables like they are going out of fashion. kale, swiss chard, broccoli, cabbage, brussell sprouts, cauliflower. you will just have to live with the gas.

even better, juice that kale and swiss chard and mustard greens, too. if you can get yourself a juicer and you have someone to work it, or you can afford to buy freshly-made organic juice outside, drink 16 to 20 oz of green juice at least once a day. skip the fruit. fruit is good for you, but right now you can't take the sugar.

2. start drinking water (chlorine filtered out, if you can) like crazy.

at the very least, 3 liters a day to flush all the junk (and what the cruciferous vegetables might be killing) out of your system. if you can, add alkaline drops or some natural/organic baking soda to your water. the more alkaline your system, the more your own immune system can fight.

3. rest.

it's like a cold, remember? give your body a break so it can fight it. exercise is good for preventing cancer but when you're in an outbreak - just like the flu - you need to rest up. if you're a mom, this is a chance to skip the ballet recitals and teacher conferences. do not drag yourself around. listen to your body. turn off your phone. close the door. don't fight with your husband(s) - ex and present.

4. get some heat.

one little known fact about cancer is that it lowers your body temperature. you feel cold all the time. it's sort of like the way you get cold after eating a really big meal. all your blood rushes to your stomach to help it digest and the rest of you gets no love. when you have cancer, all your blood seems to rush to the area of the cancer and heat it up and the rest of you gets cold. what seems to work is hypothermia. if you have no access to a sauna, get a bio-mat. they are expensive (like $700 for a small one and $1700 for a large). there are a lot of places to buy them online, but they last forever and lying on one really makes you feel better. there is a theory that you lie on it for 40 minutes on its highest setting and get all sweaty (twice or three times a day) and you will supercharge your immune system to fight back.

they are now finding that high fevers kill cancer cells. in japan, studies showed that the far infrared heat from the mat simulated a fever and activated an immune cell, a lymphocyte called CD8+ cytotoxic T-cell, to destroy infected cells. using it twice a day at the highest setting killed ALL the cancer cells in the majority of patients.

if you do decide to get chemo, the mat is a good way to recover when you come home wrecked at the end of a session.

5. breathe

try pranayama breathing. breathe slowly and expansively, be generous with your body. fill your ribcage, fill your stomach with your breath. and release it slowly. enjoy it. the oxygen will help alkalize your body and strengthen your immune system. it will help the platelets in your blood swim freely.

6. get some energy.

i recommend a strange and expensive supplement called polymva. it's a combination of palladium (like what the ironman used) and b-vitamins. i've been told it works by increasing oxygen to your cancer fighting cells. it tastes like marmite with no salt and you have to put a teaspoon or two of the blackish liquid in your water and drink it three times a day. it gives you a surprising amount of energy while the cancer is depleting you. unfortunately, i used to go through 4 bottles a month which gets very expensive. however, i had shockingly good results and it made the chemo hyper-effective.

the combination of polymva and people praying for me and over me before every session had my doctors running into my room saying, "it's a miracle!" after every new blood test result came in. i have no medical training, but this is what worked for me.

think about supplementing your own spiritual energy reserves with energy healing. i went to a healer called penney leyshon who seemed to help me gather my strength and resist the paralyzing fear and confusion. again, the idea is to truly believe and know you are well.

7. if you can do the other stuff - especially the first two - remember that you DO have time. really.

there are a few health issues where you must get immediate and urgent medical attention, like when you've been in a serious accident, or had a stroke or a heart attack, you are bleeding or have a broken leg. but for the most part, with cancer (and lots of other illnesses), if you are well enough to be out walking around, you have time to do some research and understand your options. take a deep breath. if you can't think straight, ask your friends to help you. right at the beginning, lots of people will have the energy to help. use them while you can because they will burn out.

8. know that you're scared.

and so is your doctor. and all of your family members and your friends. that's why they try and rush you into instant steps to deal with the cancer. cancer is one of those weird diseases that no one understands well and it behaves differently in almost every body it enters. also, different cancers behave differently, so no one can give you a one-size-fits-all answer.

fear is best handled with faith. and every faith tradition will tell you the same thing. it doesn't matter which one you choose, just put your faith in a higher power.

my suggestion would be, after you get your diagnosis, to avoid your doctors and immediate family members for a little bit because they will be acting out of panic. find a close friend who has a bit of time and can give you some help with an overview. find a couple of friends who can help you do research into your kind of cancer.

when i was diagnosed, i was so scared, i couldn't do much research because my anxiety made it impossible for me to understand what i was reading. i was exhausted from losing so much blood and the words jumped around the screen or the page and my thoughts all jumbled together.

i just wanted someone to tell me what to do. but, like everything else in the world, when you stop making decisions for yourself, other people make them for you.

9. look after your soul.

remember that this is YOUR body and YOUR life. while you are resting and/or lying on your mat, think about what you really want. sometimes, checking out is ok. sometimes, chemotherapy and surgery are what you feel most comfortable with. but remember that they all have long-term side effects. think about the kind of life you want afterwards. maybe you want to reduce your participation. maybe you want to play even harder.

pray, meditate, visualize.

oh also- whatever you do, don't feel sorry for yourself. i mean, everyone has their moments where they stamp around the house and say, "it's just not fair! why does this happen to ME?" and sob into their pillows and say, "oh my god, sharon married a great guy and her kids and her marriage is perfect and they have such a nice house and why i am in this situation?"

but after that, get over it and put your problems in perspective. the nature of the world is that there is always someone who has things much worse than you (or i) do. especially if you are middleclass and living in the first world.

if you blame other people for your situation or feel like a victim, then you're in someone or something else's control - and how can you possibly get well?

actually, this piece of advice works for just about everything. so get up, get going and laugh at the absurdity. you got yourself into this situation and you will get yourself out. if you really, really want to.

10. laugh.

watch idiotic funny movies. ask people to tell you jokes. if you're a mum, tell your kids to come and cuddle up with you in bed and ask you riddles. laughing is known to ramp up your immune system, too. the more you can laugh, the better. stay away from people who make you sad or worried. it might seem hard but remember, you are saving your life here.

10 and a half. keep the germs away.

wash your hands every time you're near a sink.

luck and gratitude

walking out of our temporary apartment building yesterday to pick up our gluten-free jalapeno cornbread, i spotted a shiny penny on the carpet.

i picked it up. "hurray!" i smiled at rara, "i am SO lucky!"

she said, "it was face down, that's not lucky. you shouldn't have picked it up."

me: "i don't believe that. i pick up ALL pennies, they are all lucky!"

she giggled, "maybe that's why you have such bad luck."

me: "i don't have bad luck! i am one of the luckiest people!"

she said, "you have the worst luck of anyone - you got cancer, you lost your apartment, you got hit by a taxi, your new apartment got flooded, your car was eaten by rats - mama, you are NOT lucky!"

i started laughing myself: "i got cancer and i got well, we have another apartment in the same neighborhood, i survived the taxi accident with just a few scars, we're staying in temporary apartment on the 47th floor with the most beautiful views ever, the insurance fixed my car. my exhusband sued me and realized he had to drop the case, i do work i love. i have great friends and i have three smart and pretty daughters -"

rara interrupted, laughing, too: "ok, at least, you have ONE smart pretty daughter."

it made me think about tennessee williams' quote: "luck is believing you are lucky." there's a theory that luck is a psychological state rather than a psychic one. lucky people see the positive side to every situation.

and lucky people are grateful ones. as ariana huffington says, we should also "occupy gratitude."

there is so much i am grateful for. apart from all the things i already told rara, it's the pleasure of sitting in a stream of sunlight in the morning as i drink my tea. it's the ability to fill my lungs with air and exhale a satisfying breath. i am so grateful for breathing.

and there's the elasticity in my muscles when i swim laps - oh how delicious to be able to swim after my months of chemo - to be weightless and cocooned in the water and free of ivs and wires. and being able to walk around on my own, to think clearly, to remember. i love being able to sleep. sinking into a pillow at night and drifting off or the luxury of occasionally being able to sleep late into the morning.

and the surprising, painful joy of waking early enough to see the sunrise. that magical moment when anything is possible.

i am grateful that my children always have fresh, abundant food and clean beds to sleep in and more clothes than they know what to do with. they have lots of shoes and our apartment is warm and watertight. i am grateful that they know they are loved by their parents (even if their parents don't love each other). i am grateful that when it's raining or snowing, i can pick them up in a car and we can all drive warm and dry in the car, unlike so many people who must walk or sleep or live outside.

i am grateful that i am not frightened anyone will hurt me or that bombs will explode outside my home or the school. that my daughters all made it up to adolescence with all their limbs intact and without being hurt or molested or abused.

i am grateful for the small unexpected moments of luck that seem to show up on my doorstep - a shiny penny! the elevator right there when i walk out! the subway arriving just as i get to the platform! problems that find solutions (with a lot of persistence)! a new project that fills me with the thrill of an intellectual challenge as i rush to solve it.

finding white roses with pink edges in the supermarket and being able to afford to bring them home. having the vision to see them, oh they are so beautiful and alive! and the world is filled with so many beautiful things to drink in with your eyes.

how lucky, how lucky to be able to see.

five years ago, in november, i drove down the pacific coast highway from san francisco to santa cruz, california to visit my college friends. i was so struck by the incredible, brutal beauty of the cliffs and the sea that i had to keep stopping the car to gaze at it. the 2-hour drive took me 4. i kept thinking that those views were the reason i had eyes. that in some sense, i existed in order to witness that beauty.

two years ago, i spent thanksgiving in the emergency room at memorial sloan kettering and when i got home i was too sick to eat anything. but i am still grateful for my cousin noor who sat with me for hours and my friend and healer, penney leyshon, who appeared like an angel in my curtained cubicle and made the bleeding stop with her energy. my brother who baked a pumpkin pie with no dairy or sugar or wheat.

i am grateful for my skin, my hair, my body. that i regained all the nerve sensation in my fingers and i touch and feel so many lovely things.

i breathed a sigh of gratitude upon hearing that my friend mona eltahawy, the courageous egyptian-american journalist, was set free after being beaten and detained by the egyptian police.

the dog licking my toes under the table...

thank YOU to the Divine, God, Allah, Jesus, Brahma, Intelligence, the Universe, for all the pleasures of the flesh as well as the soul.

Each one of my particles called out with its own voice,
"All praise be to God and thanksgiving!"

— Jalaluddin Rumi

how lucky we are.

on being disabled

you think it would be so easy to imagine what it would be like to be disabled. but somehow, when you're at the dank bottom of a long flight of subway stairs and you're exhausted from getting yourself there, it feels insurmountable just looking at it. you can't REALLY empathize when you're late and bounding up to the top.

imagine wandering through a subway station, dragging your tired and increasingly heavy bag of bones, looking for the handicapped elevator. or trying to make it through the station by listening to the tapping of your cane.

even harder to imagine - at least for me - was being mentally disabled.

i'm used to my brain working fast, quick answers, quick leaps across logical chasms.

now someone tells me something and i stare blankly.

i went to my friend andrea's building last week. there was a small sign on the iron door: "if no doorman is available, please press bell for elevator operator." underneath was a small arrow pointing to the right.

i stared at the door.

it was locked.

i looked inside, there was no one in the lobby.

"ah!" i thought, feeling slightly relieved as i remembered the sign, "press bell!" but then i stood at the door wondering where the bell could be. i had to look back at the sign and look at the arrow.

while i did find the bell, it took me five or six minutes. something that might have taken me less than minute previously.

today, as i got to the head of the line in the crowded century 21 department store, a man stepped in front of me and threw his purchases on the counter. the woman at the register gave him a stop-right-there-look, "there is a LINE." then she looked at me, "you just stood there! why didn't you tell him, it's MY TURN!"

the reason i just stood there is that i got confused. someone walked in front of me and all of a sudden, i thought i was in the wrong place. the man seemed to materialize in front of me, i wasn't aware enough to see where he came from.

yesterday, i got off the subway and stood staring blankly. i knew where i was. rather, i had been there before. but i had no idea how where i was related to where i needed to go.

it was simple, i had emerged from a different exit in the subway station. but just taking a different route than my usual one erased my brain's RAM. i had no idea which way to go.

after 16 years living in nyc at a stretch.

and thoughts - oh, those delicious streams of ideas - they used to run through my head like moving sidewalks. i could get on and they'd lead me off through variegated landscapes, i could take trains of vaguely related trajectories without ever falling off.

now they are like clouds, blowing past so quickly i can barely make them out, disappearing like mist if i try to hold on to them.

what was i just saying?

what was i just thinking?

my favorite analogy is the main character in "flowers for algernon." charley, having gained consciousness, then slowly loses it, watching his ability to comprehend fade into the distance.

like charley, i remember that i used to know things. that i used to be able walk from the refrigerator to my laptop and remember what it was i needed to buy from freshdirect.com. now, i forgot the missing items i noted in vegetable drawer by the time i'm at the top shelf.

all of a sudden, i know what it's like to be mentally-handicapped. i know what it's like to be stupid. i've become one of those people who stands and stares. you know those people in nyc, they're the ones holding you up on the bus because they (like me) are looking at the change in their hands and they can't figure out how to turn what they have into bus fare.

i am one of those people standing on the sidewalk looking around me and tripping up everyone else as they hustle past. i am standing there, not even with an embarrassed smile, because i haven't yet realized that i am a public annoyance.

oh yes, that realization, that self-awareness comes later.

usually, too late to do anything to save myself from being a nuisance.

when the woman at the cash register rescued me and rang up my scarf and bag, i know what i should have said to her: "the reason i didn't say anything is because i am a little slow. i don't always get what's happening around me. it's like alzheimer's."

though, of course, i am too slow to have thought of this at the time. i only thought of it now.

not that i am complaining. i am lucky. my alzheimer's is passing. along with the sudden hot flashes. the night sweats. i have moments of great lucidity. and, for some reason, when everything is quiet and the amazons are finally settled into the homework, i can write.

i hope that i have learned some compassion for people who are not moving quite as quickly on the sidewalk.

home from chemo

my doctor as usual was being all cagey about the chemo, the disease and the treatment plan.

it's frustrating because she is constantly changing the information she gives me.

i showed her the book i had on my cancer, trophoblastic disease, and she was dismissive. i asked her why my hands were turning black and she said, "oh, this kind of chemo could also make your tongue black."

i told her that i noticed that this part of my chemo - the outpatient session - was physically much harder than the in-hospital one. the nausea and the exhaustion was much worse, especially two days afterwards.

and she said, "oh yes, it would be. this is much harder. and the reason you feel so much worse two days later is because all the pre-meds we give you wear off in 72 hours."

i am wondering why my treatment is never explained to me unless i ask. no details. no advance warnings. it's a sort of shut-up-and-do-what-you're-told approach.

so then i told her about a few other oncologists i had spoken to, especially one i'd like to see who practices integrative oncology, working with vitamins, supplements and music therapy. i asked what she thought. she said, "oh, some people like him. some people don't."

anyway, soraya came with me and helped me drag myself home in a fog of nausea and spacey-ness from all the pre-meds.

lying like a zombie on the mat until zarina stamped in the front door in a temper and threw a tantrum that she was being grounded (on a school night?)and it was so unfair.

this eventually disintegrated into her telling me she hated me and wanted me out of her life and then walking out the door.

fortunately, she went to her safe haven, her dad's house. where he will tell me not to be so hard on her.

sasha and jahanara are still here calmly doing homework.

some more ginger, arnica on my bones - my white blood cell count is dangerously off, which accounts for the cold, i guess - and off to bed.

thanks for listening.

eyelashes and teenagers and drink

on saturday morning, mary schook transformed my exhausted, alien eyes back into doe-like ones with the addition of false eyelashes, mascara, shadow and liner.

i was excited because sasha was having a surprise 17th birthday for one of her best friends. who is a lovely, willowy girl i've known since they were both 2 1/2.

i was allowing sasha to have the party in my currently-empty office as long as she promised me that there would be no drinking allowed. not least because i don't want to take responsibility for anyone's else drunk minors.

so i thought, at least i'll look pretty whilst chaperoning.

of course, in the end, the party got totally out of control. by 11 o'clock, i was so exhausted that i was huddled on the sofa wrapped in my coat, my eyelashes peeling off like caterpillars. i'd asked an ex, aaron, a 6'2" former navy seal, to come over and be the bouncer. but aaron wasn't prepared to pull too much authority on the kids. he was thrown out of the party by sasha.

and my chemo-limited vision and hearing were no match for the sneaky, totally inebriated kids who arrived with bottles and cans in tow.

in fact, every single house rule was broken and sasha spent all sunday mopping the floor.

i realize, having been a kid who was a bit of a nerdy intellectual (or i fancied myself such), i have no skills to deal with the super-sophisticated new york city cool kids. even less so when i can barely form sentences.

my own feeling is that teenagers should not drink. there is a legal drinking age and part of the reason it exists is that at 14 or 16, you lack wisdom, judgement and a sense of your own mortality. unsupervised drunk kids are likely to drink themselves into a stupor, do something dangerous or hurt someone else.

if you want to let your teenagers drink alcohol, try and be around while they do it. don't send them out on the street or onto the subway (where it seems a lot of well-heeled schoolboys attempt stupid tricks like hanging on the outside of the train).

i ended up spending monday morning talking to almost all the other parents, and a shrink who deals with adolescents to re-discover my compass.

all that to find out one thing.

as a mum, you need to listen to your intuition.

forget that whole guilt thing that they will lay on you: "you don't trust me, then how can i tell you the truth?" or "if you punish me, you will just make it worse. i'll want to do it more."

if you get the feeling your kid is lying, drunk or doing something she shouldn't, don't let her talk you out of it. even if your exhusband insists you are being unfair and "trying to control their lives." (by the way, that is part of the parental job description.) if you're not a sadist or a helicopter, if your kid needs to be reined in, and you love her, do what you have to.

you're probably right.