They Light Up My Life

Miracles. They happen every day; big and small, but always important. Project miracle was created by Cristina Carlino in order to bring a new day to those in need. Here is a beautiful and uplifting story that illustrates the amazing bond between mothers and daughters, those who need a smile and those who give smiles and the power of believing in miracles…

They Light Up My Life

By

Bonnie Bridges

for

Cristina Carlino

Who offered her love and support to me when I was still unaware of how much I needed it.

My day started with a leisurely drive to Palo Alto (we live in SF) for a routine mammogram at Stanford Radiology at 2:30 pm on May 20, 2008. I was 48 and had skipped a few years of scans due to the oft-used working mother excuse: too busy with work, kids, husband, life, and friends.

I did the usual – undress, wear a cloth gown (that never ties quite right, seems to be designed to confound the user, AND is prone to gaping open while seated, exposing the soon-to-be mangled breasts) and wait. Get the mammogram. It is so weird to have your breast smashed into oblivion, while the empathetic nurse says “sorry that it hurts so much”. I think they must secretly enjoy inflicting pain; (just thought of this, perhaps they secretly love the pain aspect, which is why there has not been any new invention for breast cancer screening). And wait.

“Wait here while I have the doctor examine your mammogram” said the nurse, pointing to the waiting area, an eddy-like alcove off the hallway, opposite the exam rooms. I ambled in, a little bit annoyed that I couldn’t leave (as I had another business appointment at 4:30 back in the City). I carry my stuff along with my Stanford issued, non-recyclable dark mauve and tan plastic bag and sit, trying my best, along with the few other women, to appear is if waiting for the doctor to examine your mammogram is the most routine thing in the world. The three of us made the eddy feel crowded. I make a bee line for the solo chair near the New Yorker to bury myself in a few enjoyable essays.

“Bonnie, the doctor reviewed your scan and would like to do an ultrasound; come this way please”. I did as instructed, asking how long she thought it would take, thinking about having to call and cancel my business appointments for the afternoon. “About 45 minutes” she replies, which translates into 1.5 hours. Hmmm. I could still get back to SF, just in time, but I don’t like being rushed. So before I step into the exam room, I bring out my cell and cancel my appointments.

The ultrasound is painless (unlike our pre-historic mammogram exams — will someone PLEASE figure out how to get rid of this medieval medical device). During the ultrasound, the “I have to be cheery even when I’m working in a cancer radiology clinic and always the first one to “see” the cancer” radiation technologist, gave it away. The almost undetectable change in her attitude told me there was something wrong. Cancer. It was as clear as if she had yelled it across the room. I went from an annoying patient at the end of a long day, to one who needed empathy.

The ultrasound technician then asked me to wait again in the same eddy while the doctor examined the ultrasound. After about forty five minutes, she came out, with these sad, empathetic eyes and said it was OK to get dressed — helping me up from my chair (since when did I need help getting up?). Hmmmm. Highly suspicious. Something is wrong. But the tech’s can’t spill the beans. As I exit, they ask me to schedule an appointment for a biopsy.

The following week the biopsy was done and I had to wait two weeks to see Dr. Wapnir (breast surgeon) to review the results and get the confirmation for cancer diagnosis. Although suspicions had been raised, I tried hard to convince myself that the likelihood of me having cancer was so minor (I had a scare in 2004 that turned out negative) that I was able to appear calm (when in fact I was a wreck, but I didn’t want my family to know).

I went to the appointment by myself and was told by the resident doctor (Dr. Wapnir tends to be a bit over-scheduled) that I had ductile carcinoma and that there were options for treatment and that Dr. Wapnir would explain the options when she came in.

What the ____! The poor resident was nervous, scared, afraid of my reaction (it’s a steep learning curve, but I suppose it’s what’s required if you want to work in a cancer center).

Wapnir came in, cut to the chase (empathy through information style; which I grew to like and appreciate) and gave me the low down in her flat, slightly nasely voice: ER/PR positive, Stage 2C ductile carcinoma, large mass in left breast with diffuse edges and possible remote cancerous spots. Her recommendations: neo-adjuvant chemo, surgery and then radiation. She sent me home with a booklet “how to tell your kids when a parent has a terminal illness” and jump-started my confrontation with mortality. I read the booklet in the exam room, called Bill (my husband of 20 years) and we decided to pick up our 8 year old twin daughters from school and take them to Zuni Café (our family favorite) to share the news.

We sat in the window on the ground floor facing Market Street. I sat on the bench side and placed the book face open to the 7-10 year old section and told them that I had breast cancer. Nina shouted “you’re going to die” and Dora said, “Mom, I’m really sorry that you have cancer, is there anything I can do to help?”; nothing like di-zygotic twins to get the full spectrum of responses. I told them all that we knew (per the book’s advice); that I was sick, that breast cancer is treatable; that I would be in treatment for a long time, but that the doctor’s thought that I would be OK The food didn’t taste as good as usual.

The twins were born when I was 39 after a five long years of infertility treatments. They have been such an amazing blessing and I can’t imagine my life without them. I knew that they would be alright without me but the recurring thought of not seeing them go off to college, get married, have kids, kept haunting me; I would be overwhelmed with sadness and cry (but never in front of them).

During my treatment, I reached out to all of my friends and family and beyond (into the vast energy spectrum) and let them help. This was a huge step for me — as I’m about as stoic and self-sufficient as they come. One of those angels was Cristina Carlino. Through her generosity, I was able to attend a healing retreat called “Entering the Castle” given by Carolyn Myss in Austin, Texas in the spring of 2009 (in the middle of my radiation). These four days of deep inner work (on both the body and mind) were as critical to my healing as chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation.

And now it’s June 2010; the two-year anniversary of my diagnosis, one year out of treatment and I’m cancer free and looking forward to the next few years of emotional wrangling with my tween (pre-teen) girls. Life is truly a gift. Something I will do my best to remember every time the hormone-induced emotional roller coaster of pre-pubescent teen angst rears its ugly head. Nina, Dora. I love you. No matter what.

during chemo (2008) - people who received this photo thought that this was our way of telling everyone that I was going to die; but it was actually a message for people to take their white paper (that appeared blank) and hold it over a flame to reveal the "happy new year" message (which we wrote in invisible ink --- milk). a mercurial holiday card.

Post chemo (2009) - we take about 100 shots and everyone we send a card to gets a different image; we sort based on who would like funny, serious, etc. I like this one because we love to goof off and play.

what is inner beauty?

how do you teach your kids about inner beauty? while we all approach this differently, i wanted to share several things with you; not only my article, five easy tips for inner beauty, but also my inspiration for the special piece. i hope you will embrace and share your inner beauty.

“when grace was a baby, we use to play a little game. while we gazed into a mirror together, i held her up next to me and made funny faces. she always broke out into giggles. but when i took a good look at myself in the mirror, i didn’t laugh. i had given birth for the first time at 40. and while grace looked the very picture of flawless youth, i looked like a grandmother — or at least i thought so.

my fine lines, my graying hair and my sagging jaw line – it all mortified me. but what concerned me even more was how much i cared about what i looked like.

i knew deep in my soul that inner beauty was so much more important than a forever-young visage — and that was the real message i wanted to communicate to my daughter. grace didn’t need to see a super model; what she needed was a role model.

my story, five easy tips for inner beauty, follows my journey to teach my daughter about the importance of inner beauty, the reason why a glowing soul will always outshine a wrinkle-free face.

friends, i hope you will take some time to read my story below, which i wrote for Cafe Mom, and also to take a moment to share the ways that you teach your children about inner beauty. share. embrace. love.

1. Talk About Beautiful Things: My family and I decided to share daily the most beautiful things we witnessed during the day. At dinner, when we talked about our day, we consciously pointed out all the magnificent things — from rainbows to shady green trees to blue jays — as well as all the acts of joy and kindness we noticed: A child holding open a door for an old man, a waiter drawing an intricate picture on a restaurant chalkboard, a woman delivering a basket of homegrown oranges to a homeless woman. This ritual became as important as our prayer of thanks before dinner.

2. Model Kindness and Respect: My family and I treat everyone with respect and kindness, from the gardener who mows our lawn to the toothless man asking for a handout to each other, even when we’re really angry. “A child has to see his parents’ values in actions,” says family therapist Dr. Irene Goldenberg. “If you act falsely or disrespectfully to people or you base your attitude toward somebody on their status or wealth, your child will pick up on that and eventually reproduce that behavior. By showing kindness to everyone and seeing everyone’s inner value, you set the standard.”

3. Use Words to Communicate Your Values: I’ve realized that children need experiences framed for them verbally. If a child ever questions why you like someone who’s physically unappealing or not from your economic class or social standing, explain to her in plain language what your values are, says Dr. Goldenberg. “Make clear that you appreciate Mrs. So and So because she’s a good friend, she’s responsible, she’s caring. Help your child develop a sense of whether people have deep qualities or superficial ones.”

4. See the Beauty in All Things Great and Small: When you’re outside with your children, help them connect to all the insects and animals that you encounter — not just the cute ones, like puppies and horses, but also the ones that sometimes make us adults squirm. Turn over stones and look for bugs; explain how their hard work helps keep the soil for our flowers and fruit trees healthy. Point out the intricate detail in a spider’s web. Note a bee’s lovely stripes and explain that its work flying from flower to flower brings us honey and keeps the flowers blooming. Focus on the positive aspects of things, their usefulness, their place in this world.”Appreciating the beauty in insects or worms, creatures that might repulse us, helps children develop love and respect for all living beings,” says Susan Usha Dermond, author of Calm and Compassionate Children. The next time they encounter a homeless woman, they might notice her kind eyes instead of her ragged clothes.

5. Do Something Small for Yourself Every Day: I’ve learned to carve out time for myself. Time to exercise, clean up my eyebrows, indulge in a home facial, pull together a nice outfit — whatever makes me feel good. At night my daughter and I hold hands and count our many blessings and pray for the world to be healed with love.

Cristina Carlino recently published The Changing Room, an interactive journal intended as a keepsake for your little one — when they’re all grown up. The best part — 100% of the proceeds go to Mariska Hargitay’s Joyful Heart Foundation, which is committed to healing, educating, and empowering survivors of sexual assault, domestic violence, and child abuse