From Suffering to Courage

Elizabeth and her Dad, James D. Deane

So often over the years, people who learned about my diagnosis of bone cancer and partial amputation of my pelvis in my early twenties would say how courageous I was. I had seven surgeries over eleven years and never once felt courageous. I would deny that I was courageous at all, thereby, denying their opinion of me, almost like calling them a liar or fool.

It wasn't until one little old man told me that there were just two people in the world who he admired more than any others because of the courage they had due to succeeding to live a life with pain and suffering and not taking everybody down because of it.

The first person he admired for his courage was his own father who had been crushed between two railroad cars of a train and carried to the station where a doctor sawed off his leg. It was the early 1900's. they did things that way back then. This amputee lived out his total of 86 years with, at first, a very heavy wooden leg for forty years. Then. after all that time, he had a surgery to correct the first botched surgery, after which a new modern lightweight artificial leg was provided. This man worked a job until the day he died. I can see why this man was considered courageous.

The second person was me. This little old man, age 90, was my own father who told me this a few months before he died. I cried to know my father had kept those secret thoughts about me for so long, but terribly grateful he told me.

I have learned that courage is in the eye of the beholder, and you never know who admires your courage. Even though I did not (do not) feel courageous, when others say they admire my courage, I now let them say it and I graciously say thank you, reminding myself that there must be something I do or did that deserved that badge of courage.

Sometimes during those eleven years and seven surgeries, I cried and complained.  I wanted to die and just get it over with. Sometimes I thought I would go crazy. I felt I had no choice. I couldn't escape my circumstances. I just had to keep experiencing what came next. I felt like a victim of circumstances, not courageous at all. It amazes me that I'm still here. I made it! So maybe that did take a little bit of courage to get through it all.

It was not easy in my own eyes to think of myself as courageous, but now I can finally see it. I hope you will too. Realize that you can be afraid or be feeling discouraged and still have a courageous spirit. If life gives us a precarious path to follow and there is no getting off the path, all we can do is keep going even with the fear or pain or emotional trauma. That takes courage. Anyone who has faced adversity or suffered a loss or even stress that can get through to the other side of those things has courage. Keep in mind that like a soldier who has no choice but to face whatever it is he has to do, he does what he has to do whether he is afraid or not. He may not feel brave. But, he keeps at it even if he is afraid.

What I try to do is put one foot ahead of the other and keep going. As they say, the only way out of fear is through it. This goes for any kind of pain and suffering, too, in my opinion. Accepting whatever is happening is half the battle.

Speaking of battles. When it comes to cancer, people will say, he or she is a cancer warrior. I feel that anyone who has a medical challenge can be considered a warrior. Like any warrior on the battlefield, there is nowhere to run. You have to stay and fight the battle. If you have to fight for your life, then that's what you do, even if you do it kicking and screaming and crying and wailing. You get through it.

And now I have leukemia. But, that's another story... er... battle. Stay tuned.

Chronic Pain - Friend or Foe?

Grandpa was an amputee. He lost his leg while working on the railroad as a young man. When "coupling" two railroad cars together, he fell and his leg was crushed between the couplers. He was hauled into the railroad station. A doctor sawed off his leg right there and then (according to what my dad said) after giving him copious amounts of alcohol.

I never knew my grandpa until I was a young adult. I went to live with him and other family members 3,000 miles from home as a young air force wife. I was pregnant at the time, and afraid of the pain of childbirth. I knew grandpa still had pain from his amputation, even in his 80s. I asked him how he could tolerate it so I might have an idea of how to prepare myself for labor. He told me he "made friends with" his pain. He said, he learned to accept his pain better when he decided to stop hating it. I thought that to be very odd. I knew amputees had something called phantom pain that could be quite intense. I admired him for his strength and fortitude.

A couple years after grandpa died I was facing major surgery for bone cancer. (Chondrosarcoma) The doctor told me he would have to amputate half my pelvis, plus my leg. This is called a hemipelvectomy. Quickly, I decided I wasn't going to let this amputation destroy me. I told myself, "If grandpa could do it, so can I!!!" Otherwise I would have been devastated.


As it turned out, I only had a portion of my pelvis amputated (internal hemipelvectomy). I didn't lose my leg after all. Nevertheless, I still have pain now almost fifty years since diagnosis. Like grandpa, I've made friends with my pain. I pay attention to the need to rest. I respect the messages I have gotten over the years that there are certain things my body cannot do, no matter how hard I push. I accept those limitations regardless of what others think. After all, I appear to have a normal body to them. I pay attention to the degree of pain I experience and when I need to medicate myself to help it be relieved, I take something for the pain. Though I prefer to not take opiates.

The pain never goes away entirely. It's always there to some degree. My friend. My shadow. My pain. Lately the pain has been intensified these last few months. It wakes me up in the middle of the night. It suddenly cripples me in the midst of walking. I can barely tolerate it. I calm myself, take a breath, unclench my teeth and I remind myself that hating it will do me no good.

Right now, I have to hang on two more weeks. I have an appointment for an epidural infusion into my spine so that my pain will (hopefully) go away. I have had this procedure many times before over the years. I have always had relief. It helps me stay off the opiates. But now, the epidurals are almost an annual occurrence. You can only have so many epidurals within a certain period of time. Waiting out the time for the treatment has been very distracting. But soon, my friend and I will part ways. I wont miss her at all. Thank you grandpa for teaching me to deal with pain in your unique way.

Courage and Fear

Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

So often over the years, people who learned about my original bone cancer diagnosis and subsequent recurrences over eleven years, would say how courageous I was. I would deny that I was courageous at all, thereby, denying their opinion of me. (almost like calling them a liar or fool)

It wasn't until one very old man told me that there were just two people in the world who he admired more than any others because of the courage they had due to succeeding to live a life with suffering and not taking everybody down because of it.

The first person he admired for his courage was his own father who had been crushed between two cars of a train and carried to the station where a doctor sawed off his leg (it was the early 1900's. Thats how they did things way back then). This man lived out his total of 86 years with, at first, a very heavy wooden for forty years. Then he had a surgery to correct the first botched one, and a new artificial leg was provided. This man worked a job until the day he died. This man was his own father.

The second person was me. This little old man, age 90, was my own father who told me this a few months before he died. I cried to know my father had kept those secret thoughts about me for so long, but terribly grateful he told me.

Sometimes I wanted to die, sometimes I thought I would go crazy, but I'm still here, so maybe that did take courage to get through it all.

I have learned that courage is in the eye of the beholder, and you never know who admires your courage sometimes. Even though I did not (do not) feel courageous, when others say they admire my courage, I now let them say it and I say thank you, reminding myself that there must be something I do or did that deserved that badge of courage.

It was not easy in my own eyes to think of myself as courageous, but now I can finally see it. I hope others who are told they are courageous will too.

Try to realize that you can be afraid or feeling down and still have a courageous spirit. If life gives us a precarious path to follow and there is no getting off the path, all we can do is keep going even with the fear. That takes courage.

What I try to do is put one foot ahead of the other and keep going. As they say, the only way to out of fear is through it.
Check out the link below to learn more about overcoming fear.
http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/insight-therapy/201009/overcoming-fear-the-only-way-out-is-through

One Step at a Time

One Step at a Time by Lenor Madruga Chappel

Lenor's story of living through extremely frightening circumstances is truly mouth dropping, amazing.

Not only did she face being diagnosed with a very rare bone cancer, chondrosarcoma, but the only effective treatment for her was a full amputation (hemipelvectomy) with surgical removal of her leg and a portion of her pelvis. During a time in my life when I was faced with the same diagnosis, and so discouraged,  I was given this book by my mother. It gave me the hope to carry on to realize a mother with children could not only survive, but thrive.

Lenor's story of how she dealt with her diagnosis, her surgical experience and her positive recovery is more than inspiring.

Though the diagnosis and surgical aspects of her story sound frightening, this book is not gory. It is uplifting and positive. It teaches by example how to get inner strength through such an incredibly devastating life circumstance. Even without facing such medical possibilities, this is a book for anyone to benefit from reading.

Can be purchased at iUniverse