Postscript Post – You might be interested to know that there were 27,500 people participating in the American Cancer Society’s Photo-a-Day challenge in October. The fundraiser generated over $350,000 for ACS. A very special thank you to every one of you who contributed. As a result, we were the #1 donor group among ALL 27,500 PARTICIPANTS, generating almost $6,000, more than double our goal!!! I am so grateful for your love and support and generosity, thank you one and all, and God Bless You!

All Things Must Pass – As a big Beatles fan, their music is seared into my subconscious. I’ve been known to quote their lyrics in casual conversation as recently as Yesterday, but when I received No Reply I just figured I’m a Loser and I Should Have Known Better. Their words often find a way into my ear canals right when a message of encouragement is needed.

I’ve been very fortunate and grateful to not be experiencing any pain since being diagnosed . There’s discomfort, loss of sensation, and maybe some aches and twinges, but nothing debilitating. I need to remind myself that it is a silent foe that I’m battling. While I trust that the treatments are doing what they are supposed to, their side effects leave me fatigued and generally “out of sorts” for several days afterward. And so, as treatment week and its cavalcade of side effect approaches, George Harrison will steel my resilience by reminding me that all things must pass…

Now the darkness only stays the night time
In the morning it will fade away
Daylight is good at arriving at the right time
It’s not always gonna be this grey

Hoping your daylight arrives at the right time

I’ve been thinking back on the events of these last four months of my life, how they unfolded and how I evolved to my current state of mind. With all due apologies to Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, I see this journey as The Seven Stages of Hope.

• The Shock – There are no other words to describe the moment I learned of my diagnosis. “We see a malignancy.” My response was not outwardly emotional, more of an internalized, “Wait. What?” My brain took a few beats to process the information, since this outcome was not on the radar screen.
• The Terror – Maybe that term is too dramatic, but the aftershock felt as if a trap door had opened up, and I was in freefall down a bottomless shaft. “What does this mean for me?” In instances when we find ourselves facing new and extreme circumstances, human nature has us imagining worst case scenarios.
• The Fear – So much was unknown to me, including things like survivability and quality of life. What is going to happen? The impulse to want these answers combined with frustration of not having them raises anxiety and fosters fear and along with it, a darkness of thought that can be the gateway to depression.
• The Realization – Time can mitigate the shock and terror. Living with the diagnosis becomes a new way of life. Fear is a tougher stage to conquer. For me, it required prayer and meditation to form a conscious reminder NOT to allow the darkness to speak to me. Only then could I begin to build the inner strength and resolve I will need to combat this challenge.
• The Acceptance – Like the Serenity Prayer petitions, “Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” Accepting the diagnosis meant recognizing that it was beyond anything that I could control.
• The Letting Go – As personality traits go, mine lean toward rationality. Once I accepted the diagnosis, it made no sense for me to worry about it, nor to assign any judgment regarding it. It is what it is. My energy would be much better directed to the things I can control. Things like my strength, my weight, my mental and spiritual well-being.
• The Letting In – As humans, our survival instincts drive us to take care ourselves. What may not be so instinctive is the willingness and the worthiness to accept help from others, to let them in. I have come to understand that it is not something that I need to take on by myself.

I am so grateful for support and assistance that has come from so many sources including family, friends, healthcare professionals and spiritual guides. The abundance of love and prayers from everyone who has taken the time to follow my journey have lifted me up and strengthened my resolve to meet the challenge of this disease head on, and the hope to overcome it. Thank you.

The Wonder Of It All – It was almost 80 degrees here in NY today, a rare summer-like day at the end of October. Anyone who spent any time at all outdoors would comment on what a spectacular day it was. And so, with as full a tank of energy as I expect to have prior to my next treatment, I set out for a day of image-making with a life-long friend and photo compatriot. Our aim was to capture the autumn colors at their peak in Central Park.

So, imagine being in one of the most densely populated places on the planet on a day when everyone made it their business to be out and about. A rare sunny Saturday with children pre-gaming their Halloween costumes parading on the mall. A day when every dog in the city has dragged their human out for a walk in the park. A weekend day in the least urban part of the most urban landscape, it just seemed as if the whole city was chillin’. And yet, there was a palpable energy in the air that might be described as the rhythm of life. Everywhere I looked. people were all living in the moment. It was exhilarating to be in the midst of it, spontaneous joy.

Seek joy in the now.

Peace Through Adversity – The upheaval that I’ve endured over the past four months has taught me a lot about patience, about knowing the limits of what I can control and understanding how to react to the things that I cannot. There is peace in surrendering to the universe that which the universe commands.

In this image, my eye is on reaching the calm that lies beyond the rocks. But getting there requires careful navigation over rough terrain. In these situations I’ve learned not to forsake a helping hand. I’m so thankful for all those involved in my care and support, they are in fact the helping hand of God leading me to the calm waters of recovery. With each step, I am finding it is me and not the stones that becomes bolder.

For all those scaling the rocks, hold fast to those guiding you. You are not alone.

Lighting the Trail – The week continues to be a good one. I feel more energy, more sense of taste returning with each passing day.

As October winds down, so too does the American Cancer Society’s October Photo-a-Day challenge. Posting a photo a day was never the issue for me. The challenge presented itself when I chose to marry those images to a narrative about my current battle with the disease. Why would I want to share my diagnosis at all, much less on a platform like FB? Why would I want to dwell on this condition every day for 31 consecutive days?

Being a cancer newbie and knowing that too many others are being initiated into the fraternity each day, I think I thought that lighting the trail a bit might make it easier for those behind me. To be honest, I did not know where it would lead, or what the reaction might be. In fact, on many days, the words were not easily forthcoming. It was not until I stopped trying to force a thought and started listening (to my inner voice, to God…) and let myself become the delivery vehicle for the thought that the messages began to write themselves.

I will forever associate this exercise with my own healing. Verbalizing my hope and trust and faith has helped galvanize my spirit. Thank you for enduring this with me, I’m looking forward to moving beyond all this talk of cancer, and returning to the task of looking for the life and love and beauty in the world that is all around us.

The love and prayers and support you’ve all offered has been soul-strengthening, and I am eternally grateful for ALL of it. The messages of encouragement for these posts gives me hope that they may act as a beacon to help other travelers to look up from their lives and recognize they are not alone, and that peace is within their reach, no matter the prognosis.