Marifran Korb

What I came to realize is that CT scans are more precise now and have greater accuracy than back in 1991 when I was misdiagnosed with lung cancer. Yet, that idea of a possible misdiagnosis was a saving grace for me to get through the early days of this cancer journey.

Meanwhile, my pulmonologist now suggested an urologist at UC.  I figured a doctor closer to home would do just as well.

On June 17, I went to the nearby urologist. Looking at the CT scan, Dr. K assured me that I had only one cancerous kidney. I felt relieved. The left kidney had a cyst, not a tumor. He could “keep an eye on it” with future CT scans. The right kidney was cancerous. He was sure. It was stage one. Instead of being totally depressed, I was actually grateful to this doctor that I only had one tumor.

Heading home that June day, the reality of cancer set in. I knew I needed to study up on this. I called our daughter, Ed’s parents, and a few friends.

My father-in-law had inspired me with his restored health.  Almost a year earlier, his stage 3  prostate cancer affected him so much, he looked too frail to continue living.   Standing and walking were challenges.  He had no energy until he took a supplement of fermented wheat germ.

Within three months of taking the supplement he was alive and vibrant for his 88 years. It was that hope that I now would cling to.

Before I could tell Ed’s dad that I planned to take the same fermented wheat germ, he offered to give me his extra months supply.   Gratefully, I started taking it that same day after ordering my supplies over the internet.

In the book Knockout, I read that cancer feeds off sugar.   Immediately, I gave up all desserts and snacks with sugar.  Cold turkey.  It was not easy. Quickly, I discovered how addicted I was to sugar.

Dr. K had said that he thought I had a transitional cell carcinoma.   To determine exactly what type of cancer it was, he informed me he had to perform a procedure called a cystoscope.

After that procedure, I spoke with Dr. K. He said it was not a transitional cell carcinoma, but a renal cell carcinoma. That distinction made no difference as far as his assertion that the cancer had to come out immediately.

The surgery could not be done with robotics, since it was very close to the blood supply. I would have a scar on my back and the surgery would take two to three hours. It would involve weeks of recovery. On the internet, the people who had undergone kidney surgery said they were in pain for months afterwards.

Dr. K admitted that he could not be sure to save any of that right kidney. Still, he insisted that there was a good chance he could cut out only the tumor, doing a partial nephrectomy, and leave the rest intact.

As with any relationship, this one continues to evolve.  Surprises occur, some I like and some I don’t.  Cancer doesn’t care about my opinion.  It just is.  Or is it?  One thing I know for sure: I’m in this to learn.  This crash course in life has provided enormous opportunities to widen my scope.

No advanced doctorate degree could be more intense.  My cancer education has been on a physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual scale.

It started with a routine chest CT scan six months ago.  The radiology department had scanned from chest to kidneys.  Three weeks after the scan, I managed to get an appointment to hear the scan results. “Look, you’ve got cancer in both kidneys,” exclaimed my pulmonologist.  Excitedly, she pointed to a screen with black, gray and white marks on it.  I took her word for it. Not sharing her enthusiasm, I didn’t react.

There was no time to talk about my lungs on that visit. Rather, there was a flurry of activity around scheduling an abdomen scan to see the kidney more clearly. Within a week it was confirmed that I needed a specialist.

My history kept me calm and objective.  In 1991, I had been diagnosed with lung cancer. I had been coughing up blood from my lungs, something that was not new.  After a CT scan, the pulmonologist at the time, told me I needed surgery to remove my whole right lung.  I took the CT scan to a second pulmonologist who said: “Yes, it could be cancer. And with your lungs, the surgery could kill you.”

Since I said no to that first diagnosing doctor in 1991, he actually called my husband and enrolled him in the idea of surgery for me.  Figuring I could die if I did, or die if I didn’t, I refused.  Nothing bad happened as a result.

With that experience in my background, I decided not to worry about anything until I knew for sure.  The thought of having two cancerous kidneys would at times shock my mind, and I would remind myself that I did not have any physical pain. I knew I had to focus on the possibility the CT scan was wrong.

Last night I was in a writing circle that was around a virtual campfire.  It was led by vivacious, ingenious Julie Jordan Scott.  Julie directed us from her state of CA, while the rest of us were writing in other parts of the world. http://www.writingcampwithjjs.com Our imagination keeps us together around a creative campfire that sparks our souls.

While Julie gave us two prompts in a row, this is the prompt that prompted this post: “The writing I will harvest today is … “

The writing I will harvest today is the moment I am in. On this clear evening, I can smell the honeysuckle as I observe the sun’s rays at a lower angle, highlighting the side of my house instead of the roof. Still, the strong sun makes its descent in the sky in these few hours before twilight. I love this time of day.

If a day is compared to a lifetime, how much time does my life have? Is this the stage my life is in? If all goes well, I can count on a few more decades before twilight time. Has my sun, or energy, peaked? What year was that exactly? I had not noticed.

On reflection I do not think my important energy is waning, even while the hour is way past noon and the years are adding up. In a day, I am very productive even between the time the sun sets and the time sleep sets in. So I can do plenty when the decades continue. Those years will be like this beautiful time of day when the sky is getting ready to dress up for the sunlight’s long passage through the atmosphere. The sky celebrates with spectacular colors.

Even when the sunlight disappears below the horizon and envelops the outdoors, my inner lights keep me going. I love the moment I am in.

My mother was my first relationship. She was diagnosed as having schizophrenia, and later bi-polar disorder. As you can imagine, that relationship profoundly affected me.

Had I lived with her alone on a desert island, it is likely I would not have survived. In this story, I show how neighbors made a difference.

Below is a new sample from my book: Breaking Through Concrete: The Gift of Having Mentally Ill Parents.

WHAT IS ACCEPTABLE?

For days, Mother had been sleeping at night on the grass in the front yard. Actually the back yard was bigger, but it did not suit my mother’s purposes. It was definitely not as public and Mother had a propensity for drama. It was “too hot inside,” she explained.

Wearing her ragged bedclothes, she usually came in after the men on the street drove past on their way to work. That included Dad.

One morning, after a week of those grass-sleeping nights, men in white coats came to the house. Dad hadn’t left for work yet. The men spoke to him privately. Then they asked where to find her. He pointed to the bedroom where she had just come inside to rummage around for God-knows-what. The screaming started as the two men took her by the arms. She didn’t fight them physically as I knew she could. She was just yelling from the surprise of the ambush like a scared rabbit. Dad observed the scene as a bystander. It had to be a surprise to him, but his demeanor never gave it away.

When she was out of sight and hearing I asked Dad if it was due to the sleeping in the grass that led to this. “No, it was the noise and digging into neighbors’ garbage cans that did it,” he answered flatly as if nothing just happened. I got ready for school as always, and tried not to think of where she was going. My brothers had no reaction.

Walking to the bus stop, I lost myself in pondering what was the dividing line between sanity and insanity. “What behavior constituted normal and what constituted the unacceptable?” Making noise, digging in trashcans, and even displaying herself on the lawn didn’t seem that bad to me, especially compared to her anger flares, her sudden nastiness, etc. I guess it had to do with who was disturbed. The relatives and the neighbors knew some of the extremes that went on in private. They had seen and heard her screaming and hitting, and kept that to themselves. The people who saw her reactions and disturbances looked away. Yet, when odd behavior bothered and affected them, then it wasn’t all right anymore. It all seemed a blur to me. What got her put away didn’t seem anywhere near as serious as lots of other things that didn’t have consequences. I could never have gotten away with the things my mother was permitted to do.

Knowing that Dad didn’t call the men in white coats, I was secretly glad to have neighbors that did.

Another chapter from this book is http://mentallyillparents.com/index.php/2010/05/11/breaking-through-concrete-book-excerpt

Connection is powerful. Omnipresent, it is ready for us to just reach for it. One person who did not believe in connection was a sullen 14-year old girl who was in the Youth-At-Risk Program.*  Since I had recently left my job and left my husband, I definitely was not looking to volunteer for this yearlong commitment. Yet, there I was. After Natalie’s difficult behavior, her mentor quit before the program started. No adult was willing to take her on, so it was either no one, or I.

Raised by her grandmother who died two years earlier on Natalie’s twelfth birthday, Natalie had been shuttled around to live with whatever relative had the temerity to take her in. Her mother’s current lover had shot her young mother. Her father was in jail for another 3 years for robbery. She moved five times that year. With just a spoonful more stability, I moved three times in the same period.

Natalie’s first communication to me was that I was too short, too white and too old. I had to pull the sword out of my heart on that last part.

Our first scheduled meeting was memorable. She had planned on ditching me before I could find her. Deliberately she gave me a bogus street number on a very busy street. Since her aunt’s last name was not the same as Natalie’s, I could not find her in the phone book. As soon as I left the public phone booth, it started to rain.   Walking back to my car to get my umbrella, I considered my options.   Discovering that I had locked myself out,  there was no turning back.

Remembering that another mentor had mentioned that Natalie lived on that busy street,  I asked a small boy if he knew her.  Natalie lived on the top floor of the corner building, he assured me.  A fortress of four floors, the red brick building itself absorbed the odor from a garbage-strewn courtyard. There was no doorbell to alert anyone that I was there. By then, the rain poured out in endless buckets and the odor of the garbage was getting more foul. My hair was already soaked, and my sandals were getting squishy.  I was in no position to wait around. There had to be another entrance.

After finding a tall child, I started climbing the fire escape that had been out of reach for me, though not for the pre-teen.

People on all the lower floors came out of their windows and screamed, wanting to know what I was doing. They said they’d get Natalie. Yes Natalie, the teen that did not like being found, came out to get me. She brought me in with the air of one who had been outsmarted … this time. Whenever I called after that, her grandfather answered the phone and yelled loudly: “It’s that crazy white woman.”

She tested me all along the way that bumpy year. At times she growled menacingly that she could beat me up. Never doubting that she could, I gazed at her unflinchingly without comment.

Our conversations were curious. One of our agreements and obligations of the program was to meet with other mentors and youths in the Youth-At-Risk Program. The day before each all- day Saturday session, I’d inform her of the next program, the new great speaker and the reason she would want to hear the valuable information. Her response was: “I’m not going.” Ignoring that, I’d keep rhapsodizing about the other youths that would be there, what benefit was in it for her, and what time I’d pick her up. She’d repeat: “I’m not going,” exactly as Poe’s Raven reiterated “Nevermore.” After several rounds of this, I’d depart cheerfully reminding her: “Be outside by the curb at 9 AM when I pick you up.” Getting the last word, Natalie would say: “I’m not going” as I waved good-bye.

Most Saturdays at 9, she’d be waiting at the curb. I never acted surprised, though I always allowed extra travel time in case I had to chase her down.

Through the year there were many challenges and ample unwelcome surprises in our relationship. At the end of the year I was astonished when I heard her insist that the other youths should vote me the title of Most Dedicated Mentor. It was a revelation that Natalie admired my commitment and determination. I didn’t let her get away with her behaviors and I never shamed her either. We were connected. Though she disappeared soon after the year was up, we were never separated and remain together on some level.

* The Youth At Risk Program was an international organization that made a difference to at-risk teens.  It no longer exists as it originated.  In every city where it existed, crime rates were reduced.

This video illustrates the courage and determination of a man without the use of his legs.  He has developed physical and emotional agility and strength beyond what most of us can do.  This man is heroic in his relationship to himself and to life.  Check this out for two minutes.
Wheelchair BMX – Funny bloopers are a click away

This podcast is an introduction to my upcoming book: Breaking Through Concrete: “The Gift of Having Mentally Ill Parents.”
BTC2

SUGGESTIONS

Do you want suggestions for celebrating Valentine’s Day?   Here are some things to give, whether or not you have a partner:

1. Make a commitment to fall in love over and over again with YOURSELF.
Love is a commitment, not a feeling. Infatuation is a feeling. Here are commitments:

a) Take care of you. Notice self-sabotage. Catch yourself making yourself wrong and STOP it. Do all the healthful things. Do healthful things with the purpose of loving yourself.

Some people do the healthful things and they do it out of fear, or as rigid discipline without any self-love. Do it to be good to yourself.

b) Do all the kind and generous things to yourself, like using skin cream and moisturizers with healthful ingredients. When you do it, acknowledge that you are loving yourself. Then you can thank yourself as you would a friend.

c) Look beautiful for you. Do that for no reason other than it makes you feel good about you, not out of fear that if you don’t look your very best, people won’t accept you.

d) Do something creative. Make a collage that excites you.   Use your best china, or your most comfortable sheets.   Get some inexpensive watercolor paints at a childrens’ store and paint your heart out (pun intended).  Do a dance.   Do something you haven’t done ever.   Or here’s one: do nothing. That would be hard for some of you.   So do something you don’t allow yourself to do, like watch a movie in the middle of the week, or read a book that you don’t usually take time for.  Get a massage, or give and receive one.   Anyone can massage someone else as long as you are not claiming to be therapeutic.

2. Make a commitment to fall in love over and over again with LIFE.

Do fun things everyday and use Valentine’s Day to remind yourself.   Be grateful.  Appreciate being alive. Connect with your senses.  Enjoy nature especially in midwinter.  Nurture indoor plants.  Call a friend. Decorate your world with your loving touch.   Fix up your home as a sanctuary for joy, peace and renewal, or whatever else is important to you.  Use your imagination.   If you say you don’t have imagination, you are lying to yourself.  We all can create these two kinds of love.

IF YOU DO HAVE A PARTNER

3.  Do all the above and make a commitment to fall in love over and over again with that one special partner. Nurture your relationship. Know how he or she wants to be loved and give it to them as much as possible. Have set times you’re your partner to give and receive. Make your partner feel that she or he is the most important, most valuable person in your life. If your partner doesn’t get that from you, it is in your best interest and in your partner’s to give that gift. If she or he is not that important, then there is serious trouble in your relationship.   It is easy to give a physical gift compared to a commitment.   If your other is not worth it, you may be saying you are not worth having the relationship of your dreams.   You have to be the best partner to get the best partner and you both have to make that possible.   You can give yourself the gift of getting your priorities straight by sorting out what is most important to you and doing that. Sometimes we take a partner for granted.  On the other hand, some of us put up with things we should not.

IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A PARTNER

4. Besides falling in love with yourself and your life, jazz up your friendships, especially your single friends of both sexes.  Show appreciation to a friend.  Get in a group.   Hang out more often with close friends like the friends in the show: Sex in the City.  Love shows up in all forms.  You may think you want the romance only.   Romance is wonderful, and as some married people will tell you, it is not the only thing.  Whatever you are single, divorced, widowed or married, you can celebrate how things are.

If someone asks you how your love life is, you immediately think romance. There is so much more.  There is humanitarian love, community love, sisterly love, brotherly love,  friendship love, and self-love.   Were you taught that self love was wrong, and that you should not love yourself, just others?   Does it still feel like heresy to say that you need to love yourself?

Do you wonder about the commandment to love others as yourself?  If you are not supposed to love yourself, then loving others as yourself is not loving very much.  You may have missed that whole thing about loving yourself.  If it is in that commandment, then where or when is that supposed to happen? You cannot give away what you don’t have, so it’s essential to love self.

With the plethora of love forms, we have just one day a year dedicated to love.  And we limit it to romantic love.   How about if we bring Valentine’s Day back to love in general?

If Valentine’s Day was about love in general, then what would it look like? How would you celebrate?  What is one thing you would do?

As one woman I polled suggested, what if Valentine’s Day was about appreciation?   One man I polled said he would like to see it about community.  Right on target.   So my thoughts are not unique on this topic. I just want to start a movement where this day takes on a more expanded meaning so everyone can feel good about it.

The smallest recognition means so much.   Gratitude is the best gift.   Give it everyday.   Make a promise to someone close to show love a certain way. Give a Love Coupon. You could write a love letter to someone, sharing how he or she contributes to you.

Be grateful for yourself.  Everything else flows from that.   Go take care of yourself and that will give everyone else permission to nurture themselves.   It’s out of self-care that we have the energy and the love to nurture others authentically and not out of obligation.   HONOR YOUR COMMITMENT to yourself.

Many thanks to those that participated in the Valentine’s Day Survey.

HAPPY VALENTINE’S EVERYDAY!!

We can ignore Valentine’s Day.  We cannot get away from it entirely.   It is all around us.

Even those who have a partner tend to walk gingerly thru Valentine’s Day.   The mixed feelings don’t end when you have a partner.  Most couples have one partner who likes Valentines and one who doesn’t. “Why celebrate when you have a partner already,” he thinks.  Besides, flowers cost twice as much during Valentines day and what women eats candy anymore when she’s expected to be stick thin?   So what’s a guy to do?

What if celebrating meant more than going out to dinner?   How many couples can do that if they have to get a babysitter for children at home?

Since Valentine’s Day exists, let’s do something smart with it.   For those who resist it or those who like it, we can recycle its use and make it work for everyone.  Spend this Valentine’s Day in a new joyful way, celebrating love as it could be.

It gives us perspective to see how it started, so let’s look at the origins. It’s actually a very nebulous beginning. No wonder Valentine’s Day is a challenge, no one knows for sure how it started, or when. There are at least 3 versions of a martyred St Valentine or Valentus. One story says that he officiated at marriages, which was an affront to Emperor Claudius who wanted only single men in the army.  So performing marriages resulted in shrinking the pool of army men.  Supporting marriage got him executed.  Hey, you gotta admire that spunk.

Another story suggests Valentine helped Christians escape imprisonment. That was a loving thing to do. No link to that story and love letters, though.

Yet another story contends that Valentine was an imprisoned priest, who sent love letters to a jailer’s daughter.   For a priest, isn’t that a sin? Oh well, it’s a good story.

Yet, I think the truth is that Valentine, like many of the early saints, wrote loving letters to his congregation, or his followers.  It was similar to having followers on Twitter, except the priest was not limited to 140 characters. My point is that the messages likely were not romantic. The love was platonic.   Since we don’t know for sure why it started or when, someone made it up.  We can choose a new meaning.

Through all the centuries people wanted to connect.   Love, like a diamond, has multifaceted sides.  Love takes multidimensional forms. Yet, if someone asks you how your love life is, you immediately think romance. There is so much more.

With the plethora of love forms, we have just one day a year dedicated to love.  And we pretty much limit it to romantic love.   How about if we bring Valentine’s Day back to love in general?   Then what would it look like to you?  How would you celebrate?   What is one thing you would do? What if it were about stretching and expanding the love in your life? What if you saw that you are responsible for love in your life, that you can increase it if you want?   There’s no end to deeper love.  There’s no ceiling on it.

What if you knew you were the gift?  Then what?   What if your Valentine is you?   Not that whining self that thinks you’re not enough.   Not that self that looks for reasons that others think that you are not enough.  I’m talking about the real you that has those wonderful characteristics and qualities. Yes, you.  I know what your saying. “Yeah yeah, but loving myself doesn’t keep me warm at night.” Well, it could lead to that if you love yourself.  And if you don’t love yourself, you’ll connect to someone who doesn’t like herself or himself.   Loving your authentic self is one way Valentine’s could be celebrated.   It is not selfish, though women think it is a badge of honor to not love themselves and give to others, except once a year on Valentine’s Day.

Maybe, you would not be emotionally attached to receiving an expensive gift if you loved yourself enough already.  Gifts are great.   We all like gifts, and the gift is an outward sign of something that often is not said.   The important thing is to acknowledge what is underneath the gift if it is not obligation.  Honoring your true self doesn’t mean you would have to give a gift to yourself.   When you love and respect yourself you listen to that authentic part of yourself to guide you.   No telling what it would say.   We could start a movement for a new way to celebrate the Love Day.

Let me know what you think.  Check my site tomorrow for suggestions on how to celebrate the day while fulfilling yourself and possibly others.

As Valentine’s Day approaches, how do you feel about it? Does it excite you? Are you depressed about it? How do you want to celebrate Valentines Day? It can be fun and it can have a dark side. Let’s look at both.

The UP Side
The fun side is a delight. Since it comes in midwinter, whatever you do to celebrate can be very healthful emotionally. It comes just when we need it. The timing falls between New Year’s and spring. There’s an emotional need for a celebration. In the north, Valentine’s Day is especially beneficial. Some people decorate with red and pink in the midst of winter dreary skies and cold temperatures. The colors contrast with the snow. If you let it, Valentine’s Day can uplift you wherever you are. It jazzes you up.

The DARK Side
First, the expectations. That’s where suffering starts, then suffering keeps you imprisoned. Women tend to expect to be in receiving mode. They place great meaning on getting something. A woman tends to think it really REALLY means something about her if she doesn’t get something. It is programmed into her by ads. She is right back in first grade when one person in the class did not give her one of those cartoon cards. So all the times she did get something, it is not enough to save her from feeling vulnerable every year. Insecurity rules the day. A woman could think: “What if the gifts don’t show up this year? What if they are not as good as last year?” In a recent poll I did, many women felt so left out of Valentine’s Day that they did not want to talk about it.

The second dark side is the discrepancy between givers and receivers. Ads show the woman receiving. Until this year, I haven’t seen men receiving. Have you? Do men relish Valentine’s Day? I set out to find out and I’ll say more about that in a minute. Valentine’s Day is a crucial day in the calendar. We define ourselves by our love life and we judge ourselves by external criteria. Is someone special to me going to recognize me?

When I took a poll, all the men said Valentine’s Day was for women and children. All the women said it was for women and children. That may explain why most men feel it is a non-event. It isn’t marketed to them for them to receive, only for them to give as obligation. And men naturally resist the commercial guilt trip, even if their wife is not attached to the day. Of the men polled, 90% said they couldn’t care less and Valentine’s Day is just stupid and useless. Most men said they were cynical about it.

The third dark side is commercial manipulation. The saying is true that women manage holidays and Madison Ave manages women. You see the mass mailings with the skimpy nities and the undies, the heart candies, the flower ads. Recently I saw a TV advertisement showing a 1950’s version of a Valentine ad for a heart box of chocolates contrasted with the modern Valentine’s Day technological gift that cost $150. So now the price has really gone up. The $50 roses are not going to cut it anymore. Ugh!

In my survey of 40 people, I found that only 10% of people were happy with Valentine’s Day as it is. Most men and women were ignoring that day for themselves, though many parents use Valentine’s Day to share something with their children or grandchildren. One woman said that when Valentine’s warrants a business day off, then she would take the day seriously.

Check my blog tomorrow for How did Valentine’s Day start, and what could it become?