You can escape, but you can’t escape reality.

We have been talking about working from our family home in Vermont, during the fall, for a year now. At times I was emphatic about it. But as the fall approached, I became more apprehensive and fearful about leaving ATL because of my health. I ran through excuses in my head and some of them I verbalized with Andy. An escape was scaring me. Andy knew how much I needed it.

So, with my doctors OK and Andy’s gentle encouragement and persistence, we loaded up the car, the dogs and ourselves and headed north to Lake Elmore, Vermont. Population 800. Leaf population, limitless.

The further we got from Atlanta, the better I felt. Just a change of scenery and a change of routine was helping. We had escaped. Or so I thought.

About 6 days in, the reality that I still have cancer and start proton radiation on October 19th hit me with a confirmation call from Winship Cancer Center (Emory). The anxiety about another flare of optic neuritis found me as I prepped for my neurology follow up (virtual appointment). I had to take a nap, honestly! And I realized that I can’t truly escape reality. None of us can. We all have 2020 following us around like a sad rain cloud or a tethered balloon.

So what I am learning from all this? A change of scenery and routine are good and can help, but each day it’s up to me to feel a certain way, regardless of where I am. It’s in my power to control my reaction, isn’t that part of personal mastery? In this situation, it means somedays I tuck it all in a corner and ignore it and some days I cry. Both are okay as is everything in between, because the days are my days and they are mine to decide how to handle.

My personal vision helps here. I want a big life, I want experiences, I want travel, I want to smile, I want to see new things….and to do that, to live congruent to my vision, I can’t let fear stop me. I need to keep moving forward. That reality alone is liberating. I can’t change the fact that I have cancer and an auto-immune disease. I can control how I deal with it.

For now, I’m working from this lovely little town in Vermont, enjoying cooler weather, beautiful fall color and a HUGE yard to play fetch with Cassie. I know I still have a long road ahead, with 37 stops at a proton radiation center over the next three months. So the easiest thing to do is to take it one day at a time. I wake up, talk myself out of bed and into the shower and so on. Somedays it’s easy. Somedays it’s hard. But if I keep moving forward I’m doing okay. These adorable dogs help (and I am so grateful for Andy)!

How are you doing?

How is your vision helping you live the life you want?

PS – medical update. I am healing well from the surgery and my eyesight is holding steady at 20/50, which is good enough. The cancer is small and treatable. The scans confirmed a 2nd spot of chordoma on C2 vertebrae. It’s a tricky spot, so were going to treat with radiation first then we’ll determine if anything further needed. I have 3 other spots on my coccyx bone (sacrum) that they will monitor. I have a “lifetime of scans” (direct quote from Dr. McDonald, head of Winship and my doctor) ahead of me. My first session of radiation is October 19. A few weeks ago I went in for the ‘simulation’ session where they made the mask I’ll wear for each radiation session. The mask will keep me from moving while they point proton beams at the cancer. The technology is amazing AND I was overwhelmed and terrified at it all. I still am. Stay tuned.

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