Coping with change is a process. Like change itself, it is gradual. My difficulty is that time is not my friend. It seems that there is a new challenge or change at every turn. Recently, I was diagnosed with a tumor behind my eye. I don’t want to use the term ‘brain tumor’ because it would be inaccurate and has its own connotations. I take relief in knowing this difference. The most that can be impacted is my sight, or I might have to deal with another cancer, such as lymphoma.
I find myself overwhelmed at times, making it difficult to stay engaged. For instance, one day I went to take my meds, only to realize I was out and needed to replace them. This made me late for another set of appointments in Boston, triggering my anxiety. When these attacks occur, I find it helpful to stop, close my eyes, and take four deep breaths, followed by four easy breaths. I focus on my breathing, trying to exclude all other sounds and thoughts, and feel the rhythm of my breathing and the pulsing of my blood as it courses through me.
Another technique that has been more difficult for me to adopt is Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). ACT involves accepting the reality of your situation and committing to actions that align with your values and capabilities. It's about focusing on what you can control and taking meaningful actions despite the challenges. For example, I want to build a timber structure using only joinery techniques. While I can handle the joinery, I don’t have the strength to complete the entire build. So, I accept this limitation and commit to working on the joinery, with plans to have friends and family help with the rest. This way, I still pursue my passion while being realistic about my capabilities.
It is a constant struggle, yet I try. In the end, I guess all I can do is try. I am fortunate to have family and friends who are supportive and genuinely care about my well-being. I cannot say enough about Annika. Despite having her own health struggles, she is always there to support me. My nephew Troy has been stalwart in getting the spring tasks around the house completed, and my brother John has also been very supportive by working with Troy on various tasks. And then there is Steve, who in his slow and methodical gait, seems to appear at my doorstep whenever I am in need of assistance. He quietly just steps in and helps out. I am so fortunate.
How to come to grips with change, especially that which is imposed upon you, as opposed to by choice, is not an easy question to answer. It has taken me a while to come to grips with getting older. I thought that it would be a graceful decline and that my choices would become easier as I aged. The health issues have made this very difficult, partly because there is so much I wish to do and accomplish. Now, I need to prioritize based on time and capability. Recently, we had a stint of great weather. In previous years, I would have had the kayaks out already and been enjoying the waterways or dusted off the bike for some rides. Now I can barely get out of bed without it turning into a challenge.
I have been asked why I even contemplate doing these types of things, and not just chill and be more sedate in what I take on. The answer is pretty easy – because I do not want to let this disease dictate how I approach my life and the ways I find happiness and enjoyment. Call me a control freak, but I want to decide what I can do – and not have it decided for me. And this is where the rub begins. Wanting and capability are entirely different things – thus the ACT.
Now I am conscious of how much time I spend on doing something. For example, when I am working and doing a lot of bending over and lifting things, I try to take frequent breaks. I have a chair that I affectionately call my mourning chair. It allows me to sit, grab my coffee, and take that needed break to practice a few moments of mindfulness via some breathing exercises. It doesn’t always work, but at least I slow down for a bit. Even when I am writing, I have my watch tell me every hour to get up and stand and walk a bit. These coping mechanisms allow me to remain somewhat active and keep my mind focused on something constructive.
In facing the inevitable changes that come with a terminal illness, I’ve learned that acceptance doesn’t mean giving up. It means adapting and finding new ways to live meaningfully. My journey is far from easy, but through the support of my loved ones, practical coping strategies, and a commitment to my passions, I continue to find moments of joy and fulfillment. Life may not be as I envisioned it, but by embracing my reality and focusing on what I can do, I am crafting a new narrative—one of resilience, love, and purposeful action. As I move forward, I hold onto the belief that, despite the challenges, there is still so much to experience and cherish.
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