Blue Sky Day

Doctor appointments, scans, injections, labs, work, family, daily grind, and worrying over your illness or your loved one’s illness can take our nervous systems into outer space. We cannot really rest or sleep well--though we are exhausted--because our minds stay sharp and diligent 24 hours a day while neuroendocrine cancer lives in our homes. For a very long time this was normal for me. I didn’t stop worrying, driving, and running around while taking care of my husband Jimmy, our sons, our dogs, and our home. I did my best to keep track of everyone’s everything.

On a particularly beautiful day in downtown Los Angeles, Jim had two separate medical appointments. We drove an hour and a half to get to the first appointment. Traffic was terrible, but the sky… the sky was what I call Toy Story blue. A few white clouds would drift by, like peace calling, just out of reach.

We knew Jim’s health was not improving, and there were a lot of unspoken words in the car that day. As we finagled our way into the smallest parking spot ever, we barely felt like getting out of the car. Being the responsible people that we were, we didn’t want to keep our doctor waiting. After going in and hearing stressful evaluations of where things were going, we left even more hunched over than how we walked in.

I drove down La Cienega Blvd. to the second appointment nearby. As my GPS told me to turn left onto Beverly Blvd., my brain decided in that very moment that we would indeed NOT be turning left. We passed the parking lot and kept going straight. Jimmy didn’t say a word about my abandoned turn as I kept going in this new direction. Without warning, I quickly turned the car into a tiny shopping center. There was a Winchell’s donut shop! I parked, and Jimmy looked at me and smiled. A real smile. I hadn’t seen that one in a long time.

I grabbed Jimmy’s hand, and we went into Winchell’s for two donuts and coffee. We sat at this little table and looked outside at the gorgeous day and made plans. We thought about going to the Dodger’s opening game! We discussed a trip to Mammoth Lakes with the kids. We made plans that sounded great. I called the doctor’s office and explained we just didn’t have it in us to make the appointment that day. They understood. After 14 years, they seemed to agree, we needed a break. To this day, I can taste that strawberry donut. I can tell you how happy I was to be in a random donut shop with my husband, letting concern, worry, and big decisions wait for another day.

This day is one of my most favorite days with Jimmy. I treasure it more than I can explain.

We didn’t make it to Dodger Stadium or on another trip to Mammoth, but the hope was there, and our joy in pausing, even if it was just for one afternoon in sunny California, felt so great for our souls. We felt empowered and reminded that we can and should make some space to find our peace.

If you, too, feel overwhelmed or feel that you are expected to hold so much together that it is stealing your joy, it is okay and almost necessary to play hooky. It is okay to find a blue-sky day and find your dreams again. Finding yourself holding hands in Winchell’s Donuts at 1:00 pm on a Wednesday is pretty darn great.

If you need a break from something, please talk to your medical team. Sometimes, they may agree with you. You can heal and rest and come back ready to face treatments, decisions, and concerns with less of the feeling of being weighed down by the urgency of healthcare decisions. We make hard decisions about living with cancer daily. We also must remember to put some effort into our joy.

I know this NET community pretty well. We are smart and wise, and we know our bodies. If you feel it is time to reset your clock, to rest your mind and body, please consider it. One day of light and peace can strengthen you and put you in a better frame of mind for tomorrow. Whether you are the one with neuroendocrine cancer or a caregiver, you are important. Look for blue sky and puffy white clouds for inspiration. I hope you find time for daydreaming and filling your cup with hope.

The Costco Chicken

My husband Jimmy has been on my mind and in a lot of my conversations recently. His birthday was last week. Family birthdays, the day we got married and the anniversary of his passing all bring up feelings of loss. My HNF team, Mia and Margaret, suggested that I write occasionally about how I have experienced grief. As always, I hope you find something relatable or helpful through my experiences.

One of the things I have learned about grief is this: It is its own boss, and its timing is not up to the griever! I thought I would have some sort of control over where and when I would be sad or upset, but grief decided to show up strong when I would least expect it.

Who knew that going to the grocery store would be such a trigger? Soon after Jimmy passed, I walked into our local Albertson’s and got about 10 feet in the door and almost fell to my knees. The feeling is not something I can explain. I felt like I couldn’t hold myself up. My overwhelming sense of loss won that day. I ended up running to my car and heading back home.

I tried Target a few days later. I made it in the door and all the way to the soap aisle. Panic set in as I thought about soap. What kind do I want? Do I buy the same soap with the scent I loved to smell on Jimmy when I would give him a hug as he left for work every morning? Did I want to try something new that reflected my own liking instead? I stood in the soap aisle sniffing every bar they sold at least twice. I ended up in tears and left without soap. Without groceries and soap, things could get pretty grim!

Fortunately, I ended up using a grocery delivery service. One of the costs of grief for me was paying someone to shop for me. I did some research and discovered that shopping was a very common trigger for a grief episode. Like many before me, I didn’t realize how much shopping for essentials is an act of love. It was not for my own well-being only. For 30+ years, it meant my husband’s favorite fruits, veggies, snacks, and soap were carefully chosen with his happiness in mind.

Six years in...

• I found a soap I like. It isn’t the same one we used before. I just couldn’t. However, I am please with my new choice.
• I can swing into Target or the grocery store now. I don’t love it, but hey! Staying away from stores saves me some money.

I got seriously brave recently and went to Costco. First time in years. I made it to the self-checkout with a basket of goods. Jimmy loved a good Costco run. That little thought brought on small tears. I felt grief sneak in and tried to hurry through the process of paying. As I was putting a cooked whole chicken on the checkout area, it slipped out of my hands. I tried to catch it but ended up ripping the lid off and sending a hot whole cooked chicken sailing through the air. As it was sliding down the aisle, I yelled, “Chicken down, chicken down!” I was hoping the “man down” reference would stop people from slipping on the chicken trail.

I left without a chicken, but I did manage to make a lot of random people laugh. The tears in my eyes were not just sadness but a bit of happy tears as well! Jimmy would love that I flung a chicken in Costco. He would just love it.