Another milestone approaches, one I’d never thought I’d reach: my fiftieth round of chemo. Honestly, I thought I’d have left cancer well behind me by this point. There’s a small chance I have; there’s many chances I haven’t. I’m choosing a practical optimism at every opportunity I get, but to be honest, it’s difficult to deal with the uncertainty of what this actually means.
The remaining three tumors in my liver (each the size of dice) appear to be largely calcified—like little skeletons buried in the vibrant ecosystem of my liver. I’m so grateful and awed by the ways the body strives to live. And, I’m grateful for medicine, and the ongoing development of new and better tests and therapies. The thought of going off of the treatment that has kept me alive for the last thirty-two months is frightening, while also relieving (two seemingly competing truths existing together). But even to be here is amazing. Even just fifteen years ago, I wouldn’t have had access to the same drugs I have today.
This got me thinking. I looked up causes of death through history. The first thing I saw was that only a century ago almost fifty percent of people died before they were adults. Nowadays, that number is below one percent. Frankly, I’d be dead if I was born a century earlier. I had pneumonia when I was around eight years old. It would have killed me a hundred years ago, and it could have killed me had I not been born in a wealthy country even now. Type 1 diabetes was a miserable death sentence a century ago. It’s frankly amazing that discoveries and innovations, combined with a handful of other close calls, have given me as much life as I have. And this is probably true for nearly half of the people reading this, half of your friends, half of your coworkers, half of the brilliant people making these discoveries.
I have a lot of gratitude these days. It keeps me uplifted and hopeful. It helps me see all beings as caring and giving of their best. It helps me see and feel my place in the web of being. Basically, it helps me just to see so much. I think about being a kid, and writing thank you cards to family members after Christmas gifts were exchanged. It was a simple practice of gratitude that informed my inclination to the practice later in life. And am I ever thankful for that too.
I remember (perhaps inaccurately, but to the best of my knowledge) being part of the health and safety committee at work, and as part of a mental health strategy, we implemented a thank you board in the office. It was largely a success, but concerns were raised that we shouldn’t be thanking people just for doing their jobs. I get where people are coming from with this argument, but I put forth that thanking someone is a rather simple action in comparison to the meaningful effect it can have. And who knows, some people struggle to get out of bed in the morning, how does some recognition change their morning? Others may feel like an imposter, or face any other struggles that plague us in the workplace, how does some appreciation change their work? I think about how differently I show up to conversations when someone simply shows appreciation for the effort I have put into a piece of work, even if my efforts turn out to be misinformed or otherwise shit.
In this spirit of appreciation, I’ll stop with the sappy, self-helpy vibes and say that the best thing these days is my hair. Although there is chemo-induced thinning, there is also chemo-induced curls. After getting over the initial confusion of coping with this newfound mess, I found a style that I adore. I honestly think that this is the first time in my life that I’m genuinely pleased with how my hair looks. It’s a funny fluff on the top of my head, which is perfect for my face shape, looks the perfect amount of androgynous, actually requires very minimal styling, and the curl shampoo and conditioner moisturizes my scalp so no more dry skin flakes! It’s a bit weird to be overjoyed with a hairstyle that was caused by cancer treatment, but there you have it. Thanks chemo!
Chemo curls always look cool
I’ll leave it there for now. I’ve been changing and learning (and being grateful for my consistently curious self) these last thirty-two months. Perhaps I’ll say more next time. Be well and be grateful!
As I write, the turning over of the Gregorian clocks is looming closer. Many of us will write resolutions or tuck them away in our heads as another thing to do and accomplish this coming year. The resolutions will run the gamut of creative accomplishments, travel, relationship goals, self-improvement, and wellness aspirations. The latter is one of the more common.
I was browsing through some of my old journals recently and observed my consistent value for health and wellness. My drive for self-improvement has been consistent since I was a teenager, if not earlier. Around grade three, I remember learning that laughter makes you live longer. I was obsessed with laughing since then. I quickly picked up a staggering list of wellness rituals that would, supposedly, add years to my life. This made getting cancer at age 34 a great disappointment, to say the least. But perhaps it saved me from getting cancer in my twenties, or maybe I’m just unlucky; who knows? Nonetheless, my perspectives on health and wellness have undergone much scrutiny since my diagnosis 29 months ago. I’ve now come to believe the rituals I’ve incorporated into my life have positively impacted me. They’ve added richness and fulfillment to my being, which has made this life quite enjoyable. I want to share some of that with you and the stories behind how I got there.
Before getting into the thick of it, I can’t deny that there were struggles. As a teenager diagnosed with type 1 diabetes at age 15, I struggled with diet, restricting and binging food to control my blood sugars and weight. Although this was before the rampant wellness misinformation found on social media, I was still drawn in by pop wellness. My teenage mind was so status-focused that I was quickly drawn into trends, as are many teenagers whose minds are built to build their social capital. This is all to say I’ve had my experiences in the not-so-good and ill-informed wellness cultures, but I think I’ve developed a more critical eye over the years.
Regarding happiness, some of the most positive work I’ve seen recently is from cognitive scientist and professor of psychology Dr. Laurie Santos. As much as I love self-improvement, I was skeptical of “self-help” and “happiness” literature for most of my life. I scorned books promoting happiness; I didn’t believe they’d hold that the recipe I found brought happiness to my life. And, frankly, I found my life full of joy and doubted these books would have much more to offer. Having faced a few life-changing tragedies in my youth, I knew that happiness came easier after processing the so-called “negative” emotions, which I doubted self-help books would address. I knew that life was not a constant state of happiness, but rather an overall happier-ness (this may sound familiar to people who’ve heard about Oprah and Arthur Brook’s new book, Build the Life You Want). Despite all these beliefs, I enrolled in Dr. Santos’ Science of Well-being course a few years ago with some friends. I found her approach refreshing, and I have been an avid listener—and sharer—of her podcast, “The Happiness Lab,” ever since. She offers a science-backed approach to well-being without the toxic-positivity aspects, and she acknowledges that sometimes life sucks. Still, it is possible to rewire ourselves for better experiences. For more about this, watch this quick video:
The video provides a nice framing for me to explore well-being and what I’ve learned over my life, particularly since being diagnosed with cancer.
Intuitions
Intuition is the first self-help paradigm Dr. Santos tackles in the above video, stating that many of our intuitions about what will make us happier (more money, material possessions, job promotions, marriage, etc) are misguided.
In late junior high school, I longed to be one of the popular kids. I thought hanging around cool people, wearing the right clothes, and doing my makeup right would bring me this popularity that felt so important. It was a struggle, and I soon realized there was no top of the pyramid, only ideals I would never accomplish. That’s the thing with these misguided intuitions: there is no top of the pyramid; it’s an endless hedonic treadmill to tire ourselves out on.
Another thing I learned around this time was that I would not be a top athlete. I don’t have a natural athlete’s body, but I enjoy competitive swimming. When I understood this fact, I realized I could work hard to achieve some achievable goal, but other swimmers would always outswim me. If I reached the top, I’d be outswum the next day. I chose to be happy with what I had. I had my team spirit and enthusiasm and showed up to every practice with a positive attitude. Focusing on my strengths made me feel good.
These practices have continued throughout my life. I often reflect on what is enough for me. Do I need to be at the top of the pyramid? Do I need to be better than those around me? While I strive to do well at my jobs and take in as much of life as possible, I recognize that enough is being able to live within my means and that constant striving is more stressful than rewarding. Possessions or achievements don’t bring me long-term happiness Which brings me to nicely to the happiness “rewirings” that Dr. Santos shares:
Social Connections
I switched schools in grade 10 to take the IB program, leaving behind many of the friendships I had made since Kindergarten. While I hadn’t completely divorced myself from the ideals of materiality, I entered my new school, most determined to make friends and less concerned about popularity. I shortened my name to Kat and told myself I couldn’t be shy. I read up about how to make friends: join clubs, ask questions, be curious, be attentive, take an interest in others, smile, and be interesting (read books, have hobbies, etc). And it worked out. I found my social group and had many adventures, from movie nights to rock climbing to making music. The lessons I practiced about connecting to people and making friends served me well.
When I was first diagnosed with cancer, I retreated behind social media and TV. It didn’t serve me well. I am lucky to have friends who show up, check in on me, and invite me on walks. Social events (over Zoom) were far more helpful than watching an entire season of British Bake-Off in one day. I strive to create an active social calendar to safely connect with friends and my community. Although our third spaces may be dwindling, I believe it is still possible for anyone to find a hobby, sport, book club, or volunteer endeavour that can foster friendship and social connection on a regular, ongoing basis. The efforts to join and make friends are necessary, albeit difficult.
Other-orientedness
When I graduated from University, I got a self-help book and read it. The only advice I remember from it was to give at least one compliment daily. This was easy enough, and I started to do this. The joy I brought to other people was remarkable.
After a few months of living a secluded life with cancer, I realized I could no longer wait for this terrible disease to go away or kill me. I needed to connect, and I needed to put my skills to use. I needed some more other-orientedness in my life. I searched the volunteer websites and found opportunities where I could lend my strengths. The improvement in my mood was instantaneous. Although I couldn’t return to work (where I worked on human/other-oriented designs), I could still help others.
Gratitude and Savouring Moments
When my dad died in 2002, I became so keenly aware of the preciousness and fragility of life. I realized how easily I could die at any moment. Whenever I think about my dad, I am reminded of life’s preciousness, so I stop, take a deep breath, and soak it in. I’ve adopted habits like toasting before eating, stopping when I notice something beautiful, and allowing myself to laugh as much as I want. I also keep a gratitude journal, frequently capturing moments worth savouring.
I didn’t know how worthwhile this practice would be until I got my cancer diagnosis. Lying in bed some nights, the thoughts of my tenuous survival creeping in on me, I’d remember the good things in my life. Taking the time to be grateful and savour made those moments come to mind when I needed them most. I am so thankful to my past self for these memories, as they make me feel that no matter how long my life is, I’ve lived it well.
Exercise
I’ve been a regular participant in exercise for most of my life. Swimming was a huge part of my childhood and helped me immensely when tragedies occurred in my life. I loved escaping to the pool, paddling consistent strokes through the reliable water. I could take my mind off troubles and leave the pool feeling better, reset. I also found that exercise helped improve my diabetes control and mood for the day. When I settled into a well-connected community, I got rid of my car and depended on active transport. When choosing places to live, I prioritized natural places to walk, a gym, a nearby grocery store, and access to transit. I’d walk or bike on long, slow routes to and from work to prioritize time around nature. I took my time and made these movement moments as enjoyable as possible. The thing is, exercise doesn’t have to be a burden.
With cancer, I was encouraged by my healthcare team to walk about 30 minutes a day. Taking a gentle walk, especially in nature, was one of the most healing and relaxing things I could do. A walk outdoors can literally change my outlook for the entire day. When my chemo-induced cold and sun sensitivity make it challenging to get outdoors, I find more suitable times for walks or do yoga or dance sessions indoors when needed. As much as exercise can be laborious at times, I have more often than not felt more rewards than strain.
With all this said, I wanted to share some of Dr. Santos’ words from near the end of the video: “We’re going to have moments of fear or frustration or overwhelm. That’s part of being human. Our negative emotions are signals that are telling us something really important. Our sadness is there to tell us, ‘Hey, you’re missing something in life. You might need to make changes.’ … We shouldn’t try to wish them away. We just need to be able to regulate them in positive ways. The key, though, is that you have to put these strategies into practice, you can’t just learn about them.”
This ties back nicely to intuitions, where Dr. Santos began her talk. I understand that many people react quickly to emotions such as sadness, fear and disgust and hope to brush them aside quickly. These lead to coping mechanisms like denial, addiction, despair, and (this one I just learned about a few months ago:) internalized oppression. Part of happiness has to be practice, practicing the things that bring joy and practicing work that helps us heal those things we don’t want to face.
As if I haven’t rambled enough, self-care was a significant learning for me this year. There’s a general air around self-care similar to those happiness books I feared were only promoting toxic positivity and denied negative emotions. When I think about self-care, I envision baths, spas, yoga, a cup of tea, lighting a candle, etc. This year, I’ve found that self-care also involves things that aren’t so pleasant. Of course, those feel-good practices such as social connections, exercise, gratitude, giving, and savouring are all important. But, sometimes, you must sit in a sitz bath (NOT a bath) for 15 minutes every day, moisturize with lotions that leave you and all your clothing feeling greasy, take medications, and avoid those spas at risk of unpleasant infections. While I do my best to mitigate the displeasure, it’s not all eucalyptus and lavender.
I bought a print just before the pandemic lockdowns from Primal Screaming with Friends that shows a cat cleaning its butt (at the time, I bought it because I thought it would be funny to hang in my bathroom). It sums up my newfound perception of self-care. Sometimes self-care is doing those things that aren’t immediately pleasurable but contribute to well-being. Not that you have to, or should, engage in the least pleasurable exercises or keep friends who make you feel shitty; Find those exercises and friends you like. Self-care must consider the whole gamut of what you do to take of yourself.
And with that, I wish everyone a genuinely healthy 2024, filled with happiness and the ability to work through whatever life throws at you.
I’ve returned from a short birthday “vacation,” full of waterfalls, cedars, and lakes. Although side effects from my current chemo regime afflicted me, Rod and I were able to enjoy the peaceful days together (except maybe the part where I took us up a daunting service road in our tiny civic to see a cedar grove. I think the adrenaline of the drive added to our eventual enjoyment. Also, not the first time I’ve taken civics on such inadvisable drives).
I’ve been reading John O’Donohue’s Anam Cara (a Celtic word, meaning soul friend). Early on, he introduces the idea that the soul holds the body within it, rather than the soul being an entity within the body [Amazingly, when I asked Rod where his soul was, he said everywhere! For me, this was a bit of a revelation]. I loved the practice he offers of breathing in the soul, feeling the relationships I share with all that is around me, and how nourishing–maybe even healing–this is.
Beyond all else, I am immensely grateful for my friends and community. The walks and chats I’ve had with you have been so invigorating, and kept my optimism alive. Reading books, taking courses and doing workshops with you has fed my soul. The peaceful and reflective times where we’ve merely just soaked in each other’s presence has been nourishing. Your gifts of company, conversation, care giving, food, money, art and books [if you’ve lent me books, I will get them back to you, promise] have all been so appreciated. I keep many of these gifts in my living room with me so I am regularly reminded of you. Thank you thank you thank you!
In this exercise of gratitude, I am also extending these words to myself and to my more-than-human companions (the saskatoon bushes, the strawberry plants, the bluff and its grasses, the rivers, the squirrels…). I realize how fortunate I have been to find great friends in myself and in the landscapes, for with these friends I am never alone.
I am not hosting a gathering this year for my birthday, I have tried to schedule various one-on-one hangouts instead. Last year’s gathering–in the days before my liver and colon surgery–was hosted in appreciation of all that you’ve done for me. Although there’s no formal gathering this year, I just want to send everyone a big hug of gratitude, some nice pictures, and these closing words by John O’Donohue:
“A Friendship Blessing
May you be blessed with good friends. May you learn to be a good friend to yourself. May you be able to journey to that place in your soul where there is great love, warmth, feeling, and forgiveness.
May this change you. May it transfigure that which is negative, distant, or cold in you. May you be brought in to the real passion, kinship, and affinity of belonging.
May you treasure your friends. May you be good to them and may you be there for them; may they bring you all the blessings, challenges, truth, and light that you need for your journey.
May you never be isolated. May you always be in the gentle nest of belonging with your anam ċara.”
Kat Dornian 