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The Fallout

Hi Everyone,

When I first started writing this blog, my intention was to share my own experience, while somehow giving hope, and maybe a bit of humor, as well as sharing anything I found that helped me, not only for ovarian cancer issues, but for the issues of cancer in general.  As I am going through my own experience, I realize that sometimes it is necessary to talk about the more difficult sides of cancer, in order to stay authentic and acknowledge all aspects of living with cancer.  I am facing one of those sides now, in living with the loss of my brother Bill to Glioblastoma, and of how to handle my grief.

Right now, for me, cancer seems to be everywhere.  I find myself incredibly angry that cancer has taken my brother, that it took my sister, and that I have it.  It seems like this all-consuming monster that leaves no one untouched in some way. I am deeply saddened by the loss of my brother, and so upset about all that cancer put him through before his death.

There is no formula, no recipe, no timeline for grief.  We each approach grief in our own way.  For me, staying in the moment and just feeling things as they come to me seems to be the only thing that works.  When I slip into a darkly negative frame of mind, I try to pull myself out, thinking of positive things in my life, remembering the love of my brother and family, and knowing that there is a never-ending bond between me and those I have lost, that stands the test of time, and location.

I realize too, that I have to hold onto my hope, and to my faith.  A hopeful

outlook has always figured prominently in my approach to my own health, and that of family and friends.  When that hope is put to the test, I need to keep it at the forefront, using it as a tool, along with my faith, to keep my focused on positivity and health.

Listening to friends and family, and reaching out to them, asking for help, is also key.  Other than confiding in my ever-present and supportive husband Ken, this is something I struggle with, often pulling away and trying to work through things in a vacuum.  I continue to work on that, and realize that I always feel better and less isolated when I connect with those I love.

One of those connections brought the following Anonymous piece to me.  It has helped me tremendously.  I hope it helps you as well.

“Til Next Time,


“Death is nothing at all.  It does not count.  I have only slipped way into the next room.  Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.  Whatever we were to each other,that we are still.  Call me by the old familiar name.  Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.  Put no difference into your tone.  Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.  Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.  Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.  Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.  Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.  Life means all that it ever meant.  It is the same as it ever was.  There is absolute and unbroken continuity.  What is this death but a negligible accident?  Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?  I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.  All is well.”


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