Melanie’s journey began June 2020 when neck pain and unexpected exhaustion turned into “a billion” doctors, sonograms, x-rays, blood tests and “a biopsy, just in case.” An early bright spot was Merlo, the comfort puppy who came into her life the week she was diagnosed. Supported by friends and family, pandemic guidelines meant she faced the majority of her diagnosis and treatment alone, with loved ones providing rides, but sitting in their cars, unable to join her.  

Her last treatment was February 5, 2021. This February, she is marking her cancerversary  by looking back at “the roughest moments of my life” and celebrating how much things have changed. “I have accomplished so much this year. I’m so grateful for my health. I’m so grateful for the things I’ve been able to do in the past year. It’s important to celebrate the anniversaries – because no one knows what you’ve gone through unless they’ve gone through it themselves.” 

Melanie is a longtime volunteer for several mental health organizations and when treatment was complete, jumped at the chance to provide peer support as a Cancer Hope Network volunteer. “I know that the peer to peer aspect is very important. I feel that there’s a huge stigma around mental health – seeking therapy, a counselor or group meetings isn’t spoken about enough. It’s getting there; there’s been a big change since I started volunteering ten years ago, but I want to be sure I’m practicing what I tell others. If I think others need help, I do too.”  

“I wish I’d been paired with someone who would have told me from day one what to expect. The hair loss, how real the side effects the doctor is reading off the sheet will be.”  Melanie brings an optimistic realism to the matches she serves. “Cancer Hope Network is so crucial. Match visits are bittersweet. It’s nice to help someone else and to be able to talk to someone who’s about to go through it. I’m here to answer questions. It’s also heartbreaking to know what they’re about to go through. I feel like the point of these matches is to be honest. I let people know that it’s going to be ok, but it’s going to be challenging. It’s going to be a journey and there are ways to get through it.”  

She encourages the patients and caregivers she’s matched with to ask for help. “There’s no ‘I’ve got it’ in cancer. It’s ok to ask for help and resources. Don’t feel like you’re being a burden. Your family, your friends, your doctors, nurses and support system – they all want to help. It’s a strength in itself that you’re asking for help.” Faced with the exhaustion and side effects of cancer and chemo, she wasn’t able to do much and felt the loss of control acutely. But she reclaimed measure of her control by asking for help.  

People brought her to treatments and dropped off food (“Very helpful, because there was no way I was cooking!”) and family took shifts staying at her house a week at a time after her chemo (“There was someone to help with the day to day of breakfast and making sure I wasn’t a fall case.”). Others, kept away by the pandemic, provided support and help remotely. “They would text or call to ask how I was doing. The first two months of treatment, everyone was asking how I was doing and it felt ok to talk about it because it was so new. Five months in, I worried that people were tired of me talking about my symptoms. The people who still cared enough to check in were so meaningful. I know they worried about being a burden, but it kept me going.”  

In an experience filled with difficult moments – four hours in an infusion chair, administering immunity boosting injections, mouth sores, bone aches and more – she was particularly fond of folks who checked in to share what was happening unrelated to cancer. “I loved hearing about other people’s lives. Tell me what’s going on with you! It took me out of my own life for a moment.”  

She sees her work as a Support Volunteer providing one on one peer support, is the chance to help people not feel like they’re alone. “I can help them feel validated. Cancer patients are wondering if their experience is normal. Caregivers think they’re going crazy because the person they’re trying to support thinks they’re over reacting.” 

Her best advice – “Try to survive today. Don’t think about tomorrow, don’t think about yesterday. Focus on how you will get through this moment, this symptom, this day. Whatever the hardship, try to celebrate the little wins. Enjoy the good days. Because you have both – take advantage of them. And Listen to what YOU want to do and what is best for yourself. People will want to help, but may not know what’s best for you. Be true to yourself.”  

“My work as a volunteer – and now hosting this fundraiser – helps people not feel isolated or lonely. I’m proud to be able to raise money so Cancer Hope Network has the resources to continue to advocate for people facing cancer and matching them with a volunteer who understands.” 

To be matched with a volunteer, call 877.467.3638 (877-HOPENET) or click HERE.  

LINKS:  
Donate to Melanie’s One Year Cancer Free Fundraiser 

Request a Quotes for Hope

The post Wigs be gone! Hodgkin’s survivor Melanie celebrates her cancerversary as Cancer Hope Network volunteer appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

“In addition to providing a relaxing escape against the backdrop of treatment anxiety
and fear for the future, creating art may help you understand the myriad of emotions that can go along with a diagnosis of cancer. Emotions that are often difficult to express in words.” – Lynne Eldridge, MD

While personally I have not experienced the emotions and stress associated with a cancer diagnosis, I am no stranger to the difficulty of dealing with overwhelming emotions. As someone living with an anxiety disorder, I needed to find ways to cope. At the point in my life when my anxiety was manifesting, I happened to be a graduate student studying photography. My program of study required me to create a thesis project that combined a body of artwork with a consistent concept.

What started as a graduation requirement turned out to be an opportunity to discover and understand my own emotions. It was my introduction to art as a form of therapy.

I created a fine art series with the intent to use my photography to aid my anxiety. Through the artmaking process I discovered more about myself and about my mind and I gained knowledge and tools to help fight my disorder.

To reap the benefits of art therapy you do not need to be an artist, you don’t even have to like art. The only prerequisite is that you have an open mind, because creating art for healing is different from creating art that may be used in a gallery. The motivation is internal. A 2018 review saw benefits that included a reduction in anxiety, depression, and fatigue in breast cancer patients.  An article by Lynne Eldridge, MD notes the benefits found during a study of women creating art while going through radiation therapy,

 “Those who participated had improvements in total health, total quality of life, physical health and psychological health. Positive benefits were seen in body image, coping with systemic (whole body) side effects of treatment, and in “future perspectives” or a sense of HOPE.”

Another benefit is establishing a sense of control during a time that many cancer patients feel they have none and are filled with uncertainties. With art you can control the what, the where, the when and the who. You are in complete authority over what medium you want to use (painting, drawing, etc.), where and when you want to create (a quiet corner of your home, perhaps while listening to music), and you also get to decide who sees it. Unlike so much of a cancer journey, with art, you are in control.

Using art as therapy helped me learn about my own emotions and calm my anxieties. Art making can be a powerful tool in the arsenal of self-care and mental health. The best part of art is that anyone can do it. Go to the dollar store and pick up an adult coloring book, go to an art supply store and pick up some paints, use your phone to create stunning photographs. The possibilities are endless, and HOPE is just a brush stroke or a pencil scribble away.

Interested in learning more about art as therapy? Cactus Cancer Society (formerly Lacuna Loft) helps young adult patients, survivors and caregivers discover support and community. Check out their Art Workshops HERE            

The post Art as Therapy appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

Tempers are shorter, patience is thinner and it seems everyone on the internet is about three clicks away from revealing that they’re a devastatingly awful human being. The ones we love are facing challenges that seem insurmountable.

When you work in a place like Cancer Hope Network, inspiration and courage are a daily occurrence. Coming to the office (or signing in remotely!) means talking with people who are mucking through some of the worst days of their lives. It means partnering with patients and caregivers who have faced catastrophe.

It also means seeing bravery and courage. It means bearing witness to strength and wonderfully generous humanity. Time and again, our volunteers focus on others when it’d be easier to focus on their own pain. Time and again, we see expressions of care when it’d be absolutely appropriate to shout “LOOK AT ME! LET ME SHARE MY PAIN!”

Time and again, we see good humor and a determination to find the silver lining in pretty awful situations.

“It sounds strange, but I wouldn’t change it for anything.” This, from a woman who had just returned from the hospital hours before. She’d discovered that her cancer had returned –the scans hadn’t come back clean and it’s time once again to plan her way forward. We discussed her treatment options – more surgery? more chemo? radiation on already thinning bones? – and talked through what’s important to her. She was honest about her pain, but despite the shattering news, reflected not on her losses, but what cancer has added to her life. “It’s given me a chance to right my wrongs. It’s helped me to know how loved I am.”

“You guys have sure been through a lot lately.”  This, from a volunteer who is struggling with her metastasized cancer and the latest treatments she’s using to fight it. From someone who counts time out of the hospital as a victory and celebrates just being close enough to the beach that she can feel salt air. Instead of focusing on her struggle to go to work or talking about the latest excruciating treatment she’s completed, she asked about my family, cared about our small victories.

In the face of this graciousness, hearing this strength from these remarkable women, I’m reminded that a rough year isn’t a reason to give up. A bad day is a challenge to find what’s salvageable and move forward. To keep caring.

Want to connect with a Support Volunteer who understands? Call 877-HOPENET or click HERE.

The post Attitude adjustment: Finding perspective when everything feels awful appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

One was diagnosed with cancer as a child then again as a teen. As an adult they held hands with their father, mother, and sister as each went through battles with cancer. For another the effects of radiation left them struggling until a phone call from a survivor brought the hope that inspired them to keep fighting. One found the mental aspects after treatments and surgery had a more distressing impact than the physical traumas. Another has a deep understanding of the influences of supporting fellow cancer survivors and became a certified cancer coach. 

Together they are a group of movie loving, outdoor hiking, puppy adoring, Support Volunteers. They enjoy watching their children grow up and helping cancer patients make healthy nutrition choices. Each cancer journey is uniquely its own, but the threads that bind them are often strikingly similar. We are grateful to our volunteers for sharing their stories so we can find the perfect match to bring the perfect dose of hope.   

• Judy–  breast cancer 
• Matt– rectosigmoid Cancer 3b  
• Ken– squamous carcinoma of neck/base of tongue  
• Jeffrey– fibrosarcoma/thyroid cancer & caregiver 

The group joins more than 400+ Support Volunteers already committed to providing peer mentoring for cancer patients and the people who love them.  To connect with these, or one of our other volunteers, please call our Programs Team at 877-HOPENET (877.467.3638) or visit cancerhopenetwork.org. 

The post CHN trains new class of volunteers appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

In addition to her service as a CHN Support Volunteer, Debbie Woodbury is a patient educator with Pathways Women’s Cancer Teaching Project and a member of the Carol G. Simon Cancer Center Oncology Community Advisory Board at Overlook Medical Center. Debbie is a ten-year breast cancer survivor, a speaker, and the author of two books, You Can Thrive After Treatment and How to Build an Amazing Life After Treatment.

It’s easy to hate change, especially when it barges in frightening and unwanted. Usually, the first instinct is to fight it every step of the way. But if it’s serenity you seek, you’re only going to get there by accepting the changes you cannot change.

When I’m struggling with change (which happens much more than I like to admit) the following help me see things through different eyes:

1. “Without change, something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens. The sleeper must awaken.” – Frank Herbert– Change wakes us up and makes us re-evaluate our priorities and choices.
2. “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” Mahatma Gandhi– Change isn’t only something that happens to us, we can and must be proactive if we want to make change for the better in the world.
3. “If you don’t like something change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude.” – Maya Angelou– If you are enduring difficulties, you always have a choice as to how you approach your situation.
4. “Change your life today. Don’t gamble on the future, act now, without delay.” – Simone de Beauvoir– So many of us put off making changes out of fear of the unknown. The bottom line is all we have is today. If you want to make a change, do it now.
5. “Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.” – Gilda Radner– Gilda faced terminal cancer and came to embrace life as a “delicious ambiguity.” Her ability to face change and all the fear that it brings will always inspire me.
6. “If you realize that all things change, there is nothing you will try to hold on to. If you are not afraid of dying, there is nothing you cannot achieve.” – Lao Tzu– We fear change because of the pain it can cause. Think of what you could achieve if you relinquished that fear through acceptance.
7. “Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.” – Harriet Tubman – Amen!

The very moment cancer comes into your life, it is changed forever. The struggle is how to accept change you have no control over and still somehow move ahead.

Survival > Existence,
Debbie

The post Surviving on Hope: 7 Thoughts on Accepting Change after Cancer appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

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“My doctor was devastated at having missed it,” she recalls. “I’d been going to him for two and a half years and we’d never biopsied it.” Rather than dwell on her missed diagnosis, Emily began to fight. But first, she made the choice to forgive her physician. “I’ve made mistakes too. What value would carrying a grudge bring to me? I was a zebra in a horse pasture. Over the months, we kept running into each other around town. I always spoke to him. I always greeted him. He finally realized that I wasn’t out to get him. I was doing fine.”
“Doing fine” was a series of challenges. She had three surgeries to remove the cancer. “We didn’t get it, didn’t get it.” At that point, Emily “didn’t have much of a heel left,” so she underwent an extensive reconstructive surgery. Soon after, testing revealed the satellite cells of spreading cancer and she was meeting with a specialist at Oregon Health & Science University.

A realistic look at the possibility of additional surgeries and a desire to keep her mobility led Emily to choose chemotherapy and amputation in January of 2010. It’s a decision she doesn’t regret.
A lifelong educator, Emily was soon back in her classroom, rocking her prosthetic leg. Thanks to a call from her principal, an interview, complete with photos, soon landed Emily on the front page of the local paper. It was the beginning of her latest version of helping: demonstrating to the world that cancer and amputation were a part of her story – not the entire thing. She started hearing from people in the community who were inspired by her bravery. That inspiration wasn’t limited to cancer patients.

“A woman, whose name I don’t know, contacted me to say thank you,” Emily recalls. “She said ‘Thank you for being so bold in how you presented this to your students. I have false teeth and I’ve been too embarrassed to let my grandchildren know. Now, I don’t mind showing them.”

Talk to Emily for more than five minutes and you’ll recognize that she’s is a non-stop ball of energy, exceptionally committed to helping others. Which meant cancer was a learning experience as she had to accept her limitations. And help. Like so many patients learning to face their new normal, letting others pitch in was a hard-won lesson. “It’s a process of learning not to overdo. Not saying ‘I’m fine, I can do this’ when you need help.”
Like the teacher she is, Emily shares her own recollections to drive the lesson home when talking with patients. “I remember one time, I didn’t have my leg yet and I crawled up the stairs and was in my daughter’s room, trying to change the sheets or something equally important,” she recalls.  “Knowing it’s ok to sit still is the hardest part. Still. I remind the women I’m mentoring that it isn’t all about having to prove ourselves or make ourselves productive. It’s ok to ignore the old adage of ‘busy hands are happy hands.’ It’s ok not to have busy hands all the time.”

During her treatment, Emily was blessed to be surrounded by a community of care. “So many people reached out to me,” she recalls. “My 87-year old aunt and my cousin drove over the mountain in a snowstorm to be with me. They made all these meals to put in the freezer. My mother came, my husband and my daughter were amazing. My sister, and her quiet strength, was extremely helpful.”

It wasn’t just family who stepped up to show their concern. “People would drop by with meals, with cards. A woman I’d worked with, who I didn’t know all that well, who’d moved to another school and was pregnant with her third child – stopped by with food.”

She recognizes how fortunate she was and is paying that care forward, first as a teacher, then in her work with amputees and today, as a CHN Support Volunteer since 2012. “When I was in treatment, I wasn’t communicating with other cancer patients. I was bathed with positive encouragement in general, but there wasn’t something like CHN for me.”

A woman of strong faith, Emily has spent a lifetime bolstering the people around her, especially to people who don’t have a strong support system. “I’m very grateful for the many things in my life, for the support I have. Knowing I can reach out is one of those things that keeps me going. It’s kind of the way I’m wired,” she muses. “There’s no value to me just sitting here in my own little life. And I’m not just sharing. I’ve learned so much from the people I talk with. I get a new perspective.”

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The post Educator, amputee, survivor appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

“Yeah, but…” is where the Support Volunteers of the Cancer Hope Network community thrive. For them, “Yeah, but…” means finding the hope and possibility in any circumstances. It’s pushing past the challenges of treatment and the pain of recurrence to find hope and healing.  Like entrepreneurs, it’s focusing on the small victories when big ones seem out of reach. It’s discovering lives of service and purpose as part of their post-treatment new normal.

Today, a look at some of the “Yeah, buts…” that make hope happen every day.

Yeah, Joe lost part of his tongue to cancer…
…but he’s completed his degree in social work and is helping elderly clients.

Yeah, David had “a chunk pulled out of his head” because of brain cancer…
…but he’s planning to walk his daughter down the aisle this fall.

Yeah, Ellen survived cervical cancer in 1996, and has faced bladder issues and multiple intestinal surgeries and is currently playing tennis with tubes running down the back of her legs…
…but she’s finding laughter and joy in comforting others.

Yeah, Joe lost a friend when he was diagnosed…
…but he’s discovered deeper relationships with his adult daughters.

Yeah, Malissa fought depression and literally died after her double mastectomy…
…but she’s embracing her scars and hosting her own radio show.

Yeah, Paul fought Graft Vs Host disease after his bone marrow transplant…
…but he’s now helping his fellow Princeton alums through cancer and other illness.

Searching for the “yeah, but…” in your own cancer journey? Our volunteers have been there and are here to listen. Call 877-HOPENET or visit cancerhopenetwork.org/support to request a match today.

The post Addicted to the “yeah, but…” appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

Unfortunately, the scan revealed polyps – some clearly benign and others not so clear. He scheduled laparoscopic surgery to remove them “to be sure.” What was supposed to be routine surgery quickly became something else.

“I went in to have it removed laparoscopically. Five hours later, they’ve removed a cyst the size of a meatball, along with 14 inches of colon. My surgeon, Dr. David Ward sent the cyst to the lab and gave us the dreaded diagnosis and recommended an oncologist to help us move forward.” His oncologist, former CHN trustee Ken Adler, walked him through the benefits of chemo therapy (a reduced risk of recurrence) and suggested that, based on his markers, Mike would be the perfect candidate for a clinical trial in addition to the gold standard treatment he’d be receiving.

The trial was testing the efficacy of drugs that had been successful fighting other cancers. Instead of 3 hours for each chemotherapy treatment, Mike would need to stay for six. Plus, he’d be required to extend his treatment for six additional months.

Dr. Adler explained the pros and cons carefully, showing the empathy that is his hallmark. Even facing cancer, Mike wanted to help. He signed up.

“The additional drug we were testing had minimal side effects. I was never promised that the treatment would be the greatest thing since sliced bread, but I knew it’d be helping others,” he reflects. “What did I have to lose, other than time?”

Mike counts himself lucky. He views initial diagnosis as the most difficult part of his fight. “People die from cancer. It was an initial shock. But it became much easier after that.”

He worked through treatment, even travelling a bit. “I was lethargic, but not sick. I forced myself to get busy, get in the shower, stay busy. I got up every day with a sense of purpose. That’s what kept me going, what gave me the energy to keep moving. I was lucky. After speaking to so many others about their reactions to chemotherapy, my reaction was in the top 10% best possible version.”

A self-described “healthy guy,” he recalls feeling fortunate while getting his weekly infusions. “How could I possibly feel sorry for myself? I’m here once a week, there’s a woman who’s had every day treatments for 28 days. There’s a parent whose kid is receiving treatment. It was easy to keep a positive attitude because others had it so much more difficult.”

Plus there’s Mike’s sense of humor. His weekly treatment included a bag of medication that he carried with him. “If you go in Wednesday for three hours, you leave with a bag and a wire and have to come back Friday to give it back. I was receiving chemo, but I could go to work. I put the pouch on my belt, hidden under a sport jacket. Guy asked what was in the pouch and I responded honestly – FU. (the name of his drug)”
For ten years, he’s channeled his zest for life and sense of humor into helping others as a CHN Support Volunteer. “On some calls, the person is initially very reticent about saying anything to me. I’m just a voice on the other end of the phone. When they realize I’ve had the same diagnosis, treatment and issues they’re facing, they open up. A lot of people need some kind of cheerleader. They need reassurance from someone who has been there, done that. I become that cheerleader.”

He encourages anyone diagnosed with cancer to get connected to a Support Volunteer. “So many people have well-meaning people in their lives who don’t know how to handle it. To call on someone who went through what you are makes life a little easier.”

Today, the husband (he and his wife will soon celebrate their 45^th anniversary), father and Army veteran who served in Vietnam is enjoying the life he once dreamed of, full of good health, golf and travel. Best of all, there’s lots of time with his grandson – “Having a grandchild is like eating all the ice cream you want and not gaining any weight.”

The post A bag of FU and hope. appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

After one day with particularly swollen ankles, she had an ultrasound to look for a cause. The results came back after she’d returned to work. Her doctor called with a simple message, “You have a huge blood clot. You need to get off your feet now, go to the emergency room and get a blood thinner ASAP.”

She began treatment for the blood clot but the symptoms persisted. Further testing revealed that what her doctors had thought was a swollen lymph node was actually an enormous mass. They moved into crisis mode. “It was Christmas time. We couldn’t get anything scheduled. I finally got a biopsy. They figured out what I had and I started radiation and chemo. It was the worst Christmas ever.”

Although her medical training in pediatrics helped make sense of the jargon floating around her diagnosis and treatment, Jenn found new perspectives on the other side of the gown. Her first bout of radiation left her throwing up, unsure if she could go through the second treatment. Luckily, the tech on duty recognized the classic signs of radiation poisoning and Jenn’s care team was able to find medication to minimize the symptoms.

It was a lesson she’ll never forget – and one she shares with her matches. Patients should discuss preventive medications with their doctors before chemotherapy or radiation. That conversation could end up making a dramatic difference in quality of life.

“People have an expectation of being sick and vomiting all the time,” she says. “There are great medicines to help control vomiting and nausea. There’s no reason you have to feel that way all the time. I’ve been on chemo for seven years and have only thrown up a few times.”

She encourages that advocacy in all aspects of life with leiomyosarcoma – or any cancer. “Ask. Ask. Ask. Build relationships. Talk to the social worker. It’s good to have a contact person after you’ve been released.”

Jenn’s life post-diagnosis has been a series of ups and downs that included searching for a job while undergoing radiation. “I’d get radiation, pop a pill and get on a plane to go to an interview. I didn’t make a big deal of it, but I decided to share that I was in treatment with potential employers.”
She underwent surgery, where doctors removed a major vein, her right kidney and adrenal gland. Complications from her recovery led to gallbladder attacks, terrible chest pains and more surgery, which led to the discovery that her cancer had spread.

Today, she gets scans every four months and has found equilibrium on an oral chemotherapy. “I’ve been on this chemo longer than pretty much anyone else. Most people are only on it for about a year and I’ve been on it for five years. There’s no hard precedent of what the right treatment is. There’s no protocol. It’s an ongoing conversation with me, my husband and my oncologist.”

Through her diagnosis, treatment and recoveries, Jenn and her husband have been surrounded by a community of loving family and supportive friends. It wasn’t easy making the transition from helper to helped.

“I learned how to be vulnerable and to ask for help,” Jenn recalls. “Which was not in my wheelhouse. I always felt guilty asking for help and I’d taken it as a great point of pride to be independent. But I’ve learned that people want to do something.”

And “do something” they did. From homemade food (“When I was first diagnosed and going through treatment, people made meals for us. Once a week, our friends would bring us a meal and it was often enough that we could eat for a couple days. It wasn’t too much – and it was spaced out.”) to pajamas (“Sometimes you have to wear the hospital gown, but not always. Pajamas were a nice change.”), a hypnosis tape (“My friend is a psychiatrist. She tailor-made relaxation tapes that helped me envision my immune system fighting the cancer.”) and even taking shifts to watch over her (“After surgery, my leg was paralyzed, but I had to get up every two hours to go walk to deal with the nerve pain. We had people come stay with us for a week at a time and get up with me every other night. They’d take turns getting me up, helping me. Some of these people were taking their vacation time to care for me.”)

That patchwork of love and care made all the difference. “We were grateful to have so many people who were willing to make a sacrifice to take care of me – to take care of both of us, really.”Jenn recently celebrated her 43^rd birthday. After nine years of poking, prodding, treatment and surgeries, age is something to be embraced. “This birthday was one I never thought I’d see. I don’t mind getting older, because I am actually living to see another birthday. And that, to me, is a big win. I’m proud of making it this far.”

After nearly a decade of uncertainty, she and her husband are making “leaps of faith, making commitments.” They’ve adopted a dog Piper and are looking to the future. “I feel like we are finally able to start moving forward with our lives. We’re moving out of the holding pattern we’ve been in since I was 34.”

“My surgical oncologist was ever the optimist,” she recalls when asked about the best advice she’s ever received. His advice was simple, but profound. “Don’t let cancer take any more from you than it’s already taken.” Jennifer has put that advice into practice. “It’s easy to catastrophize things, to make something worse than it actually is. Yes, my diagnosis is terrible, but we really have to cling onto the things that are important to us – our friends, building relationships, taking opportunities of joy and not wallowing in self pity.”

It’s in that spirit that she began volunteering as a CHN Support Volunteer. “If I can make anything good out of this situation, if my experience can help others, that’s another way for cancer not to take away so much.”

Need perspective? Looking for some encouragement through a tough diagnosis or into survivorship? Get matched with Jenn – or another Support Volunteer who has been where you are.  Click HERE or call 877-HOPENET (877-467-3638) today.

The post Puppies, puking and hope. appeared first on Cancer Hope Network.

Today, Christmas Day, we don’t worry about schedule! All is good! No hassles today! It’s Christmas!
People are smiling, happy; more giving in every sense of the term. They’re buying gifts for family and friends, putting money in the Salvation Army kettle and sending in year-end contributions to their favorite causes. People are a little more patient. The feeling of giving, of being generous and kind is all around us.
On Christmas Day everybody is focused on being nice because it is such a special day – it’s hugs all around and everyone is feeling good. So I ask the question, why can’t it be Christmas every day?  Why can’t people feel that way, act that way, every day? Why don’t we?

Imagine if we woke up each morning and behaved as though it were the “most wonderful time of the year.”  If every day we thought about how nice we could be and how blessed we all are – if the gifts we bestowed were as simple but as precious as a kind word, a sincere compliment, an expression of support or encouragement.

That magic begins with our attitudes.

Frame of mind clearly shades an event, positively or negatively. How many times have we seen ourselves react to an extreme, either way, and then recognize that our reaction was tainted by our frame of mind at the time? You’ve had a tough day at home, or at school, or at the office, and at dinner you get the 17^th telemarketing begathon phone call of the week and you slam the phone down with expletives. Yet on a better day, maybe you say, sure and donate $25.

Attitude is more than just, “is the glass half full or half empty?” It’s starting the day with a basic belief that it’s going to be a nice day, a good day, and if problems arise, I’ll deal with them, and no matter what it takes, I’ll find a way. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “I’m happier. I guess I made up my mind to be that way.”
Bringing a positive and confident approach to life is a choice of attitude. A difficult choice to recognize sometimes, but critical because it becomes the lens through which we look at everything we experience.

Attitude is not only a positive approach to daily life, but it also includes how we deal with the bumps along the road. I wonder sometimes if we are fair to ourselves. Did you ever notice how many people get depressed or upset for a while about something bad that happens, and yet, when something good happens they smile for only about three minutes? There ought to be a life rule that demands equal recognition time for good and bad. And in fact, why shouldn’t it require we spend more time focused on the good than the bad?

Once our attitudes are right, it’s time to take action.

Being nice to others is so much more than generosity. It is caring, it is being supportive of others, it is lifting one’s spirits when they are down, it is reaching out when you haven’t talked in a while, it is calling someone when they are sick or troubled, it is remembering someone on their birthday, or on a sad day. And very importantly, when talking with someone, it is about truly listening.

So often we converse with people but how hard do we actually “listen?”  How often do we share what we want to say and then kind of tune out when the other person speaks.  Science tells us that we only retain about 25% of what we hear – so focus is critical.

It’s not easy. We live in a world of technology that creates so many distractions. People have their smart phones, their earphones, portable music everywhere – not just the home, the backyard, the car, but now even on the golf cart. How many times have you walked into a restaurant and seen a group of friends or a family having dinner and they’re all just sitting there playing with their cell phones? Or folks crossing the street so busy on their cell phone that they don’t see the traffic or other pedestrians. And when our television DVR’s allow us to pause anything, back it up and replay what we just missed, is it any wonder people don’t always pay attention?

When you spend time with a friend, give them the courtesy, the care, the priority of your attention – listen.

So my point is a fairly simple and straightforward one – that comes from having a simple mind!  Some days we just decide that we’re going to be extra-special-nice to others. Whether that’s Christmas or someone’s birthday or Mother’s Day –  we know that on that day we are going to make it extra special for others.

We can let the joy, the thanks, the smile, the kindness, the patience, the caring, come through every day.
My challenge, my suggestion, my inspirational thought for you – one day this week, when you are going to bed, tell yourself that tomorrow you’re going to pretend that it’s Christmas. You don’t have to tell anyone, just have that thought in your head the next day. And remind yourself of that multiple times during the day. That night reflect on the day and see how you feel.

I believe you will have a great day and that others around you will as well.
Merry Everyday!

Cancer Hope Network is nondenominational and nonpartisan. We’re proud to serve clients from diverse backgrounds with a wide variety of beliefs.

Wally Parker is past president of Cancer Hope Network’s Board of Trustees and a longtime member of the First Congregational Church of Westfield who occasionally has the opportunity to deliver the sermon. Today, we’re delighted to share a condensed version of a sermon he recently gave. We hope the message of hope and kindness resonates with you as it did with us! 

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