Just living life. No awesomeness required.

I’m always chuffed (as my Brit friends would say) to run into an patient essay that’s so good, I wish I’d written it – one that captures the essence of what I’ve been thinking all along but somehow haven’t quite gathered those thoughts as succinctly. Although Barbara Westfall wrote this for her blog Pilgrim125 as a woman living with Stage IV breast cancer, she tells a familiar story that spoke to me as a heart patient, too.

She writes about those magical moments when we just try to live life as if we didn’t have a life-altering medical condition, thank you very much, no matter what our diagnosis. With her kind permission, I’m sharing it with you. Thank you, Barbara!

“Yesterday I was so exhausted.  Maybe it was the life-living I determined to do last weekend.

Barbara - just living life!
   Barbara – living life!

“My hubby and I spent a few hours at the beach playing in the waves.  I must have been quite the sight.  My broken right foot is still velcroed into a medical sandal designed to keep me from bending my foot. My hair is gray now, and thin, and was soaking wet. My wonderful weight loss of 140 pounds is a two-year old memory, as the pounds creep back on, flamed by multiple medications which mess with my endocrine system. My three-knobbed port is very visible on my upper chest in a bathing suit.  

“So for sunbathers on a lazy afternoon at the beach, my struggles to get myself beyond the breakers made for easy entertainment.

“Let me make clear:  I have been diving into waves and beyond since I was a young child.  I have experience gauging whether the tide is coming in or going out, and judging the moment the wave will begin to curl and break.  I usually know when to go under a wave, through a wave or on top of a wave – wisdom gained from being tossed by churning water into the sand more than a few times.  
“Still, I’m a bit rusty. And I move more slowly than I remember.  And I’m not quite as steady on my feet.  
“So I took a few tumbles as I played.  In one fall, my ortho sandal unfastened, was torn from my foot, and almost went into the ocean on the receding wave.  
“In another, I was sent to the sand under the water, and came up sputtering without my boogie board.  As I prepared to try to stand and grab it, a young woman caught the board deposited on the shore.  She waded toward me holding the board out.  As I took it, she looked me in the eye and said:  
“You are amazing.  Just amazing!”
“At the moment, the comment didn’t register very much.  I was preoccupied with not getting knocked over by a big wave again. But later, as I was resting on the sand, I felt very curious and somewhat humbled. 
“Did I look too old to be boogie boarding?
“Did my foot contraption seem an insurmountable obstacle to being in the ocean?.


“Was my port visible that far away?
“Or did I just appear feeble and unsuited for a rough and cold ocean?
“I still don’t know, but I do know that I am not particularly awesome.  
“I was just trying to live.  Kind of like pushing on with this Stage IV breast cancer.  I’m just doing the next thing on the path, trying to live.  Awesomeness not required.
“My next thing on the treatment path is a PET scan next month. My new oncologist reviewed all my records and scans and is confident the new lung nodules are not the result of cancer progression, but of a lung infection. Her opinion is that the lesion in my spine remains stable and that the tiny lung metastases I had with my initial diagnosis are also stable.  She thinks the new breast cancer is Hr+, PR+, Her2-, (based on the weak biopsy profile) – just like the one already being treated.
“She will be watching the slow new cancer in my breast carefully. Meanwhile, she wants to milk everything we can from the current Faslodex injections, so I will remain on that. The next line of treatment she plans will be to add Ibrance, a pretty new drug, which has been shown to extend progression-free survival when added to hormonal treatments.  
“It was a long day at the cancer center Monday, after a long day at the beach Sunday afternoon, trying to live.”
Q: How have you put simple life-living into your daily routine as a patient?
See also:

5 thoughts on “Just living life. No awesomeness required.

  1. Indeed, we are all on a journey and forward we must go! Barbara Westfall’s piece is a good reminder that we must choose, where and when we can, to make that progress in our journey as positive as we can. We must do so despite the worry, the despair and the fatigue that make lying down and giving up instead of resolutely going onward an easier path to take.

    With positive thoughts for Barbara!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. So true, Maxine! That’s one of the things I liked most about Barbara’s essay – that for a few wonderful (if exhausting) hours she was “playing in the waves”, not being a patient, just living her life, doing something that she had always loved doing, even with a broken foot and an upper chest port. I’ve often made trades like that – weighing how much fun or enjoyment an activity will bring me vs how much suffering it may also bring later on. Sometimes the reward is well worth the cost. Thanks for your comment here…


      1. Barbara, you are a true warrior. I’m dealing with heart disease and have decided to drop the statins which are leading me to diabetes. I’m going to live life without walking around worrying about lab numbers and my PCP and Big Pharma trying to keep me on statins and put me on diabetic meds so they can fill their pockets.

        May God bless you with healing mercies so you can keep on body surfing!

        June – USA

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Hello June – each patient must make decisions that seem best for their particular health issue. I would never recommend that anybody should stop or start any prescribed meds based on reading another patient’s decisions here, but it sounds like you have come to this choice after much deliberation about what will work (or not) for you. Best of luck to you…


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