The Other Side of Impossible

This week I had the opportunity to read a new and very inspiring book that will be of interest to folks like us in CancerLand.

“The Other Side of Impossible” by Susannah Meadows—is (the subtitle) about: “Ordinary people who faced daunting medical challenges and refused to give up.”

The seven primary stories in her memoir/manual/guide are about individuals and families confronted with truly daunting medical challenges—confusing diagnosis, nearly impossible treatments, horrific journeys thru complicated medical mazes. 

Here in CancerLand—for the most part—we deal with more or less clear cut diagnoses: colon cancer, breast cancer, lymphoma etc. But still daunting. And we especially understand the grief, confusion and the head banging about whether to use complementary medicine, New Age treatments or good old chemo and radiation—or most likely a self-created combo of the above and more.

Here are stories of parents, partners, individuals and friends. Choices, mysteries, decisions and prayers.

If you are trying something that makes your doctors eyes roll, or if you have chosen a doctor that makes your friends eyes roll—or if you want to borrow some courage and fortitude and faith—check out Meadows book.

“The Other Side of Impossible” will be in stores on May 2^nd and you can place an order now at Amazon.com

Celebrate Your Cancerversary

Most cancer patients and survivors know their dates. How many years since it all began and the count down to remission's clearance. We count off the months and years. We make it to three or five and then  we take not quite a deep breath but a deeper breath than usual.

Cancer caregivers have dates burned in their souls too. We remember the day the doctor called and said, "Can you come back for another test." We remember where we were and what we were wearing when we heard, "I have some bad news." I remember the routine colonoscopy and our plans for a nice lunch afterward that changed to fears and tears just stark cold shock. I remember standing in the little gazebo outside the doctor's office and trying to absorb the news we'd just heard and what was to come. The day is burned in my memory while John's is the day his port was installed.

This week I learned a new word for these dates: Cancerversary. For some it's the day of the bad news, "You have cancer",  and for others it's the day they reached five years or heard, "We can stop now."

Here is an article from this week's New York Times that describes cancer countdowns and how people celebrate or remember their Cancerversary:


http://www.nytimes.com/2013/12/08/fashion/Cancer-Survivors-five-year-Celebration-Day-known-as-cancerversary.html?smid=pl-share