What’s good for the heart… is good for us all

I’ve always been driven by my need to have authentic connections with people.

I chose a profession, nursing, as a pathway because of my desire to connect. It would have made more sense if I had gone into advertising, finance, or even become a ski bum. (I come from a long line of bankers. I was supposed to be a banker or marry one, neither of which I did!) I love people and am fascinated by their inner workings. When I connect with someone in a real way, it makes my heart swell.

Having cancer piqued my curiosity even more about people and how their own personal journey is so unique. Over the years, I have coached and cried with people who have been newly diagnosed. I have spoken with people who live here in San Francisco and as far away as New York. What is the best treatment? What is it like to lose your hair? Who are the best doctors? And the most important one: How should I talk to my kids about the diagnosis? The conversations often end in tears - theirs and mine!

Recently, I talked to a friend of a friend regarding her new breast cancer diagnosis. She lives on the East Coast but was interested in being treated in San Francisco at UCSF. She was going to use the cold cap to prevent her hair from falling out. She has two kids, ages 8 and 10, and as these conversations often go, she was most concerned about how to talk to her kids about her diagnosis. She was thinking that maybe she could hide this news and not even tell her kids.

I told her I understood because I do. At one point in my cancer journey, I was thinking about not telling my kids about what was going on. However, my doctor told me that I was denying them an opportunity to care for me. How could bad news be an opportunity? That seemed hard to believe.

Every single time I’ve been diagnosed (which is three times), I’ve stewed. I’ve worried. I’ve obsessed that I would make them sad and anxious. But letting them care for me is a gift. Being vulnerable IS the gift. I understand that now.

I am stable right now. The chemo is working, and I am grateful for that. I feel strong and energetic; my mind is kind of clear, and I am enjoying each day.

I’m excited about my kids coming home for Thanksgiving, for the winter holidays, and about spending some time in Big Sur with Steve. And I’m especially excited about a little hair growth! It makes me ecstatic.

What makes me most happy is something I’ve probably known all along (but get to keep learning): that having authentic connections is what feeds my soul. Thank you for being a part of my life.