Becca's Sermon

Long followers of Pointy Boots will not find much new information here, but many far-away (and some near) friends could not make it to a service 2 days after Christmas and are begging for a copy. She put together an inspirational summary, and did a great job delivering it. Here it is in its entirety…

Life Lessons Learned from a Year with Breast Cancer

Before I begin, I want you to know that my plan today is not to bore you with a bunch of details about myself. Although I will talk in some detail about my diagnosis and the lessons I’ve learned from it, my hope is that I’ll be able to share with you some broader life lessons that may be of help to everyone. At least that’s my hope – we’ll have to see how well I do...

In November 2008, having recently turned 40, I heard the news no one wants to hear. I had cancer. At first we didn’t know exactly how bad it was, although it was clear it was a large tumor. Ultimately, I was diagnosed as having stage IV breast cancer. A large tumor, with cancer spread to the lymph nodes and a small area on my sternum.

I was in shock. It was nearly impossible to process the information I had just received. Terrible thoughts ran through my head. At first, I just wanted to crawl into bed. I couldn’t handle talking to anyone. But people were calling, and I had to talk to them. It was like my birthday – all my friends and family were calling – but not quite as fun.

I found that the more I talked about it, the easier it got. The first couple of times, it was very hard to get the story across. Very hard to say “the C word.” But it got easier and easier as I went along, and I found that the more I talked about it, the more I owned the disease.

Since then, I have been through the ringer. An intense 20 week chemotherapy regimen began on New Year’s Eve. Mastectomy surgery followed in June, and then radiation therapy in August and September. Although I’m not quite back to my pre-treatment self, I generally feel pretty good.

There has been lots of great news. The chemo worked its wonders and, in the words of one of my surgeons, “blasted the tumor to smithereens.” The pathology after the surgery indicated that the cancer is gone from the tumor area and the lymph nodes. Remaining are the metastases on my sternum, which we will continue to treat and monitor, and hopefully keep at bay.

Some say cancer is a gift. Although I disagree, I would argue that my experience with cancer has given me many gifts, which I don’t believe I would have learned otherwise. What I hope to do today is share some of these with you. I’m not sure if I would have taken them to heart without having lived the cancer experience, but hopefully you will do so, and will be able to receive the gifts without having to go through the disease.

LESSON #1: There are worse things than cancer

This sounds crazy, I know. But it’s true. There ARE worse things than cancer. When I first heard my diagnosis, I experienced a range of emotions. Fear, sadness, anxiety. I thought I would die. I cried as I tucked the kids into bed at night. Dealing with a so-called “terminal illness” is not easy, and I’m not trying to say it is. But there are worse things.

I think about the lovely couple Tim and Michelle Worthy, who died suddenly in a car crash this past fall, leaving a 6-year old boy and a baby girl without parents. Or John’s sister Diana, who lost her life at age 29 while climbing Mt. Hood. Or Henry Masters, taken from his family too soon and too young.

In the blink of an eye, their lives and the lives of their families were turned upside down. There was no time for them to tell people how much they loved them, or for others to tell them the same. There was no time for their families to gradually adjust to the situation, ask questions, and be assured that they would be loved and cared for no matter what happened. There was no chance for them to witness the outpouring of support from their communities. There was no chance for them to say goodbye. There are worse things than cancer.

LESSON #2: We’re all a lot stronger than we think we are

People have told me I’m a hero. I hear similar stories from other cancer patients all the time. As Helen Beedy said, “we’re not heroes – we’re just doing what our doctors told us to do. Do we really have a choice?” Believe me, I’m no stoic. I get these little cuts on my fingers every winter and I whine and complain about them all the time. A hangnail? Agony. Now, I did give birth to three children without medication, but that was more about my own hang-ups, as well as an irrational fear that I would become paralyzed when the epidural needle was being placed.

I don’t know why or how I was able to get through cancer treatment. One of my wonderful nurses told me I’d look back and be amazed at all I went through. Now that I’m past it, I can say it’s true. But I made it through, and thousands of people do every day. This is true of all sorts of tragedies and major life changes. One day you’re your normal self, and the next day everything is turned upside down. What do you do? You deal with it. You focus on the people and things that are most important to you, and you survive for them. You remove all the extraneous stuff and focus on healing. You keep doing whatever it is that makes you feel good spiritually, and you put the rest on hold. And you rely on the kindness and support of others.

LESSON #3: A positive attitude really does make a difference (and, don’t pay attention to the numbers)

I’ve always believed that a positive attitude can be helpful to physical conditions. Or, more accurately, maybe a positive attitude won’t help, but a negative one will almost always hurt. I personally believe that my positive attitude over the past year has helped me tremendously.

John and I were lucky enough to know the famed evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould, who was also a baritone in our singing group. Steve Gould had cancer twice in his life. In his article “The Median Isn’t the Message,” he talks about his first cancer diagnosis, which was for a rare and potent cancer called mesothelioma. As many cancer patients do, he quickly sought out information about the disease, and found out that it had a median mortality of only eight months. For most people, this would translate into “I will probably be dead in eight months.” But he knew the importance of a positive attitude. And being a scientist, he also knew that the median isn’t the rule. If there’s a median or an average, that means there is a whole range around those figures. There are outliers. He always believed that he would be that outlier. He ended up surviving more than two decades, when his life was taken by a second and different cancer diagnosis.

My uncle Bill was a firm believer in this concept as well. He was diagnosed with late stage lung cancer at way too young an age. Because of his positive attitude and his belief that he would be an outlier, he survived well past the “average” life span for someone with his diagnosis, and had a very good quality of life until the very end.

But you can’t fake it – you can’t just pretend to be happy. You have to believe it. It certainly helps for others to share this idea. I’ll never forget my GP giving me my unfortunate diagnosis. Right after she said “it’s cancer,” she said, “it’s very treatable.” At that point, she didn’t know how advanced the cancer was, or what type it was, so she really had no way of knowing, but she told me it was treatable, and that’s what I believed. A breast cancer survivor recently told a story about her oncologist, who told her “I can’t promise you you’re going to beat this thing, but you have to believe you will.”

But it’s also important to let yourself NOT be happy. People have told me they were amazed that I was positive the whole time. But I wasn’t. I certainly had my down times and terrible days. You have to allow yourself to go there. Pretending to feel good when you don’t won’t help, and it might even make you feel worse because you’re NOT feeling happy. When I was in those moments, I found it helpful to try and step back from myself, realize that I was having a bad day, and remember that the next day would be better. I would think about all the things I was grateful for – my family, my friends, the fact that I was here, now. It can also help to surround yourself with just the right people, or do something to distract yourself from reality for a little while.

LESSON #4: It’s hard to accept help, but it’s so important to learn how to do it

Several years ago, the Baptist minister gave a wonderful homily at the interfaith Thanksgiving service hosted by First Parish. At that time of year, we talk a lot about being thankful, but she asked us to look within ourselves and think about whether we have ever needed to receive enough help to be truly thankful.

We are used to being the givers. When someone in the community needs help, I’m the first to jump on board. Framingham meals program? Medway House? Rosie’s Place? Sign me up. But be the one on the receiving end? THAT’S not me. I don’t need help. I give the help. Well, guess what? I needed a whole lot of help over the past year, and I had to learn to accept it.

At first I said “no, no, no” to offers of help, but then I started saying yes and, you know what? It was really wonderful. I stopped feeling guilty about what people were doing to help me, and started feeling truly thankful, supported, and loved. I even got better at ASKING for help. I would get calls from people asking me to be on this committee or that, and I would gloriously say NO! I have to say, I’ve gotten really good at this. I strongly recommend you try it.

Plus, people really WANT to help, and it’s important to let them. Think of it as a way to sneak in a little giving while you’re technically receiving. On some of the evenings when friends and family were delivering food to our house, I felt guilty since I was technically not unable to cook – “I feel okay – I’m just tired, not sick” I’d say to the people dropping off delicious food. But it was important to them to let them cook for me. They wanted to do it. I joked with a friend who had gone way over the top on her gourmet menu, telling her she didn’t need to go to all that trouble. She said, “I know I didn’t, but I wanted to. That’s how I show I love you.”

Let’s face it – there’s not much else the people you love can do for you when you’re sick. They can talk, and listen, but they can’t cure your disease or take your treatment for you, no matter how much they would like to switch places with you. But they can cook. Or, in some cases, garden…but more on that later.

LESSON #5 – (which segues nicely from #4): People are amazing

I mean, really amazing. I have been so completely overwhelmed by the outpouring of support, love, and – of course – food that I have received from my family, my friends, First Parish, this amazing town.

I don’t mean for this to sound like an Oscar speech, but I do have to mention how incredible my husband John has been through this whole thing. He has almost never missed an appointment, and only then because I forced his hand and said he did NOT have to travel into Boston at 6:00 AM every day to sit in a waiting room while I got zapped. He has also been blogging about our experience all year, saving me from having to have the same phone call or send the same e-mail 50 times over, and making sure our friends near and far have been able to keep up-to-date.

I’ve been so lucky that my sister Emily lives in Boston, and she has been a tremendous source of strength, love, help, support, and fabulous food. Although my parents don’t live locally, they checked in constantly by phone and e-mail, and were here in person for all of the big stuff.

Over the past year I have relied heavily on my friend Kari. She lives in Medfield, she is a fellow working mom, and her daughter is one of Rachel’s one best friends. She is also a breast cancer survivor who was about a year out of treatment when I got my diagnosis. She checked in on me regularly, and was an invaluable resource when I needed to brainstorm treatment options. It is from Kari that John came up with the name for the blog, Pointy Boots. At one point when I had gotten a particularly bad piece of news, Kari sent me an e-mail that said, “put your pointy boots on, sister. We’re going to kick this thing’s...butt.”

And oh! the food I have received from so many people in First Parish and others in the Medfield area! We had so much food, we could barely squeeze it into our fridges and freezers (and, yes, we have 2). I honestly don’t think John or I cooked a meal for over 6 months. It was such a comfort to be able to just grab something out of the fridge and heat it up, especially when I wasn’t feeling so great, and I wasn’t sure what would taste good.

The help and support I have received over the past year has been so amazing. As I cheesily said on the blog, although I have to be the one to climb this mountain, it’s like I have this amazing crew of sherpas at base camp, rooting for me and helping me as much as possible. I simply cannot believe I have been deserving of all of this. I feel humbled, I feel lucky, and I feel loved. Had my faith in humanity been shaken, this would have definitely restored it.

LESSON #6: Getting old is not something to be feared, but something to look forward to

I, along with many other people, was never all that into getting old. I had a blast on my 40th birthday, but still – I wasn’t thrilled about turning 40. But, hey, there’s nothing like a year with cancer to make you appreciate getting old. Now I truly WANT to get old. I was delighted to turn 41, and I look forward to turning 50, 60, 70, and 80, and enjoying all the milestones along the way.

LESSON #7: Don’t sweat the small stuff. Really. But, DO take the time to enjoy life’s simple pleasures

Before my diagnosis, people would tell me “not to sweat the small stuff,” but I just didn’t get it. I was a MAJOR sweater of small stuff.

Now I get it. So the house is a mess? Does it REALLY matter? Will people REALLY think less of me? One thing I learned from all the support I received over the past year is that I am loved for who I am, and that is not going to change. It’s not going to change even if the house is messy, or if dinner is lousy, or if I gain weight.

Now, of course, I’m sure my family is laughing because I still have just a tad of this in me, as proven by the recent holiday season, where I insisted on a clean house.

However, as a rule I really have been trying to focus on what is most important. Making a crazy trip up to our 20th college reunion, even though we were in the car longer than we were visiting with friends. Getting together for lunch with good friends more often. Taking advantage of the chance to spend some extra time with my new baby niece. Compartmentalizing – thinking about what we’ve got on tap for today, and not worrying about the million things going on tomorrow or next week.

LESSON #8: I can be a much more creative caregiver

I have always loved cooking dinner for others in need. And while I’m sure people have enjoyed what I brought, I was rarely that creative. I have been so amazed at the creativity that others have shown while taking care of me this past year. There were so many creative touches, I couldn’t possibly share them all with you. But here are a few that you may feel free to borrow!

Every time Jen Bartle brought over dinner, she also brought a cocktail that went along with it – Coronas with chili, the makings of a gin & tonic with a dinner of poached salmon.

Our friend Joanne came to be known as “the soup lady,” because she would frequently stop by and leave a bag of homemade chicken soup on our doorstep.

Upon hearing of my diagnosis, my best friend from college sent a big box of books, to help pass the time in the chemo chair.

My colleague Charley wanted to take herself outside her comfort zone, since I was outside mine, and decided to do something she had never done before. She made me the most extraordinary quilt, and the materials she used told a story about how my breast cancer was just a small part of who I am.

Two friends arrived at my door one morning, mops and buckets and cleaning products in hand, announcing that they were here to clean my bathrooms.

When our post-New Year’s Eve celebration with the Berglands was cut short by some medical issues I was having, John Bergland brought dinner to us. In the ER. At 11:00 at night.

A family friend in Medfield who doesn’t cook asked if she could do something else to help, so I asked her if she gardened. Upon arriving at home one day after chemo, we saw that she had cleaned out our horribly overgrown garden, and even left a vase of flowers on the picnic table. Another day, she showed up with the entire Medfield Varsity Boys’ Lacrosse team, and the 21 boys raked our entire yard, which is no small feat.

After we set up the Pointy Boots website, a college friend sent me a pair of…you guessed it…pointy boots. Louise Rachin, apologizing for not owning any pointy boots, e-mailed me a beautiful picture of all her pointy shoes, arranged around a vase of flowers.

LESSON #9: We are so lucky to live where we live, when we live

This is so obvious but I wanted to mention it. I feel so lucky to live here, in the Boston area, and now. I have a particularly aggressive type of breast cancer. I’ve been told that 10 years ago, it would have been a death sentence, and that 5 years ago, I would have been lucky to get into a clinical trial. But now, there is an amazing drug that targets my type of cancer. And doctors and researchers are continuing to find drugs to target other types of cancer.

And how lucky am I to live in Boston? My entire medical team – oncologists, surgeons, and chemo nurses – have been absolutely phenomenal. Top notch quality, wonderful bedside manner, and cutting edge techniques. I am slated to have reconstructive surgery next year, and my surgeon will be performing a procedure done by only a few surgeons across the country. And I’m not a celebrity – I’m just a regular person who needed doctors. People travel from all over the world to be treated in Boston, and I need only drive into town. It’s truly amazing.

LESSON #10: Got lemons? Make lemonade.

So many people have been changed by their experience with cancer, and now I can see why. I would never say I’m glad I have cancer. And I would much rather never have had this diagnosis. But I do, so what can I do with it? I feel a great need to give back. I hope to get more involved with my friend Kari’s group, the Women’s Health Exchange, which helps raise awareness of breast cancer in parts of the world where it’s still taboo, like Russia and Africa. I’d like to become more involved in speaking with other cancer patients. And I really hope that my friends with cancer can rely on me as much as I was able to rely on others. And I hope that sharing my stories with others will be helpful as well.