triple negative breast cancer | Breast Cancer Comfort

Holding on to Hope – Improbable but Not Impossible

Posted on March 21, 2018 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life

I’ve heard before “sometimes hope is all we have.” I believe it. I’m an adult but, at times, have the childlike hopefulness to believe when there seems to be no reason to believe.

I got my kids some snow scooters this past Christmas, but we haven’t seen enough snow this season to use them. Every forecast of snow came and went with only a dusting of snow. It seemed that it might be time to put the snow scooters, and all our snow toys, in “storage” until next winter and look forward to springtime games. My winter boots were ripped and I thought I should get rid of them, but held on thinking they could be useful in case we got that one snow enough for snow games.

As we approached the start of spring, with a forecast of snow, I was doubtful; thinking I should write it off like the other few almost snowstorms. Last night, we got a little more than a dusting, but not enough for the snow toys. I woke to clear streets and much of the same. But, at 8am this morning, almost to the minute of the forecast, it began to snow steadily and then heavily. By noon, we had more than enough springtime snow to use our snow toys.

My kids had fun but, truthfully, me, the big kid, probably had the most fun. A day I thought I wouldn’t see for a few more seasons arrived later than expected, but gave me the thrill and excitement that, as a child and an adult, I’ve always loved.

mel downhill (SEE MY DOWNHILL VIDEO IN LINK)

Meteorologists said we haven’t had a recorded spring snow like this in about 50 years. Glad I didn’t get rid of my boots. Glad I kept hoping. Improbable, but not impossible.

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor. Resilience Coach and Reconstructionist™ chronicling life after a breast cancer diagnosis. Sharing my musings on the life lessons I’ve learned from the wild ride of the highs, lows, ordinary and extraordinary in every day. Living my manifesto, Soul of a Survivor, and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Miami, Shells, Beauty

Posted on January 19, 2018 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life, Reconstruction

As I walked on the beach collecting shells, I reminisced about a previous Miami Beach trip and reflected on beauty. I am blessed that I recently had the opportunity to travel to Miami Beach for a trip that was both business and pleasure. However, any opportunity for me to go to the beach is pleasure. The last time I was in Miami Beach in 2009 after I had had my mastectomy, oophorectomy and completed 16 rounds of chemotherapy. I had started, but not finished reconstruction. This was the trip of a lifetime with my lifelong friends at the end of almost one year of fighting breast cancer.

The fight took a toll on me mentally, spiritually and, especially, physically. I had been at a wedding before my girls’ trip, just as I finished chemo. I had been in a lot of weddings before where the bridesmaids had to change in a shared room. I was never very self-conscious before, but I was extremely self-conscious and anxious as I began to change into my bridesmaid dress, working to make sure I didn’t knock my wig off or get it twisted. I changed in a corner, turned toward a wall for “privacy”, not wanting anyone to see my awkward misshapen breasts or the bulging scarred area where I still had my mediport. When I got to my Miami in 2009, I was still rockin’ my wig because my peach fuzz hair was growing in patchy and had me looking like a Q-Tip®, completely white. My mediport had been removed, but left behind a scar and there were all those other scars from my mastectomy and reconstruction and scars where my drain tubes had been. I think my discolored black nails (not painted black, but black from all the meds in my body) had started to return to their normal color. Not the societal definition of a 39-year-old beauty queen; lots of imperfections. I wore my wig like Linus carried his blanket, my security. I wore outfits that could hide my scars.

Fast forward to my 2018 Miami Beach trip. Yes, I wore my first two-piece swimsuit in several years. I wore strapless halter dresses two days in a row with no place for my mediport scar to hide. As I walked along the seashore on the beach (hands down one of my favorite places on earth) I was doing what I do on the beach – collecting seashells. I think seashells are beautiful. For so many years, I’ve been predisposed to getting shells with the perfect clamshell shape and with curves and exterior ribbing. I would always go for those that seemed intact, but not this trip. I was drawn to some of the less “perfect” shells, those with chips, knicks and other blemishes and imperfections because of how I now embrace beauty.

Laying on the beach with the beautiful people in a society that can idolize and admire airbrushed beauty, I was at peace and comfortable in my own skin. Throughout my battle with breast cancer, I was adjusting, trying to own this body, these changes and transformation, these blemishes and scars. I’ve spent countless hours in the mirror looking at my “new” body. The scars have faded over the years, but never gone away. I’ve transitioned from wearing my scars like a scarlet letter, a badge of shame, to being unafraid of wearing outfits that show my scars and now wear it as a badge of courage, a symbol of my strength and that’s beautiful. As I collect the shells with blemishes and imperfections, I still admire their beauty. And, as I look in the mirror with my blemishes and imperfections, I embrace my beauty, scars and all.

See more of my reflections at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sy7uXmXfnKU.

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor. Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate who chronicles life after a breast cancer diagnosis. Living my manifesto, Soul of a Survivor, and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Thankful and Blessed to be Watching

Posted on September 5, 2017 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life

Almost nine years ago, when I received my triple negative breast cancer diagnosis, my first prayer was “God, please let me watch my children grow up!” My son was four years old and my daughter was 19 months old. My daughter was just barely walking and talking and my son couldn’t comprehend all that was happening, but had a basic understanding that mommy was sick. Both of my kids were in day care when I was diagnosed.

Through the years, there have been many times when I’ve been sucked into a hectic schedule of work, busy work, kids’ activities and the fast pace of day to day life, I’m reminded to stop, pause, take a deep breath and watch – truly watch and digest what’s happening in my children’s lives and watch them grow.

This past weekend on our annual “Say Goodbye to Summer; Last Beach Weekend Before School Starts” trip, we drove to the beach. We love the beach and take every opportunity we can, especially during the summer, to get to the beach; day trip to the beaches not far from us or a longer ride further down south – we are game. This weekend, as we drove to the beach, my now 10-year-old daughter, napped on the drive there. My son and I sat in the front conversing as old friends. We talked about everything, especially him starting junior high school and his upcoming 13^th birthday. We laughed, got serious at times and had the best conversation. The richness of that moment is so precious. In our ride on a two-lane road, as my car slowly made its way through a grey, drizzling day, we connected in such a special way.

It was a rainy day when we got to the beach. No matter; just being by the water, hearing the ocean brings me peace. The beach is my serenity and my sanity and being there with my kids gives me so much calm and joy. We walked on the boardwalk and slipped into our favorite candy store to pass some time.

The next day, we awoke to clouds that eventually made way for the beaming sun. Joined by their cousins, I watched my children laugh, run, catch waves, play racquet games and fill the day with fellowship and fun.

We got back to use Labor Day Monday to prep for school. My daughter excitedly and anxiously awaited this morning, her first day of middle school. Their maturity and independence was in full swing. I had little role in their prep for the day as they laid out their clothes, made their lunches and my son awoke to his own alarm. School drop offs and goodbyes were quick as they didn’t require any hand holding that they once did. Their independent spirit was in full bloom.

I could be sad because they no longer cling to my leg or need that last, reassuring hug to start the day. Or, I can look at it as a sign that my husband and I have provided the support they needed in their “younger” days and welcome and celebrate these milestones. We’re moving on. They’re growing up. And, thank God, I’m blessed to be watching.

Congress and Senate – I am Your Preexisting Condition

Posted on May 4, 2017 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Access to Care, Access to Information, Quality of Life

When I lay on my hospital bed (many times) or in my chemo chair (many times), with tears in my eyes over the pain and despair I had, I would have to confront the urge to quit. I was chemo exhausted and physically spent, at times, not wanting to go back to chemo or deal with anymore cancer news. Although there were moments of doubt and times when I wanted to give up, I never did.

I’m ominously reminded of those hospital and chemo days. I’ve been sitting watching the news crying and exhausted with all the health-care debates and seeming disregard for humanity as votes are cast and decisions seem to be made without regard to the true human toll or catastrophic consequences. As I wrote in my letter to Representative Steve Scalise (Majority Whip) and Representative Paul Ryan (Speaker of the House), “I hope you will consider citizens like me, a triple negative breast cancer survivor, when you cast your vote on any changes to health-care legislation. My eight years of survival, once considered a blessing, now possibly a curse as preexisting conditions are at the center of the proposed health-care bill. I’m concerned that the proposed health-care law changes will be deleterious.” And I’ll be honest, I’ve cried a lot over the past 24 hours. I empathize with those on the news who speak about how their life, truly, depends on affordable care. But, just as I’ve done in the past – weary, worn and wearing my cancer battle scars – I’m emboldened because this fight is not over. One thing you may not know about people with preexisting conditions (you’ll learn quickly) is that we are fighters. We’ve had to fight to survive and we know a lot about fighting!!!

It’s interesting that so many medical organizations responsible for the care and treatment of Americans opposed the American Health Care Act. But so many of you thought it was a good idea anyway. Oh, and by the way, I saw so much news about the American Health Care Act vote, but didn’t see the news on whether Congress voted to retain preexisting coverage for themselves and their staff. Hopefully, this was just overshadowed by the other “celebrations” of the day.

Well, my tears are dry. I am a preexisting condition and for every legislator who chooses to callously vote on the “better” economics of this act, I’m now your preexisting condition. You can do things like you did today, let your voicemail get full and choose not to take calls because, as your voice message stated, “it’s one of those days”. I’ll remember all of my chemo and surgery days, all of the days wondering if I’d live to see my kids grow up and if I’d have insurance coverage to help me sustain my life to do so. Yes, I plan to have a lot of “those days” and I’m encouraged that I’ll be joined by millions of others.

Preexisting conditions – sickness – are those things that are always around; sometimes at the forefront, sometimes in the background, but ever present. Their presence can be annoying and irk the $*## out of you. They can zap your energy and take a potentially good day to a day from hell. Often, they can make life difficult at best; sometimes hellish. My triple negative breast cancer can be considered a preexisting condition. And, with this new legislation, there’s the possibility that I could be a person relegated to the high-risk pool of uncertainty.

I’ll be excited during your 2018 reelection bid to put you into a high-risk (election) pool. This was never partisan, it is personal. And I’m taking it very personally. I am your preexisting condition. Hello. I won’t go away. Preexisting condition. Survivor. No quit in me!!!

Farewell President Obama, Health Advocate-in-Chief, and Thank You

Posted on January 11, 2017 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Access to Care

Dear Mr. President:

Last night, I watched your Farewell Address. At times, I was so filled with emotion that tears streamed down my face, clouding my vision, but still allowing me to take in an earful and digest every word like a dehydrated person savoring each precious drop of water; quenching this thirst by continuing to provide hope that has propelled us for the last eight years. Hope and faith are inseparable cousins. You spoke about “…that faith that I placed all those years ago, not far from here, in the power of ordinary Americans to bring about change — that faith has been rewarded in ways I could not have possibly imagined. And I hope your faith has, too.” In the annals of the American presidency, let history reflect that my faith has been rewarded throughout your two terms. Thank you.

During the vociferous “four more years” chants, the crescendo invoked my lamentation when I pled for more time. I cried tears of joy on November 4, 2008, the night of your first election. Three weeks later, I was inconsolable as I cried tears of sadness and fear when I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer at age 38. Breast cancer killed my 49-year-old mother after her initial diagnosis at age 36. I asked God to let me watch my one year old and four-year-old children grow up. You began your post-election transition to the highest office in our country. I was transitioning into the depths of my own hell. You promised change. I struggled with my faith.

On the stormy sea of change, I began my course with a bilateral mastectomy. A month later, on an unseasonably cold day, my husband and I braved the elements and traveled by car, subway and a several block walk (pre Fitbit, but I surely would have easily gotten 15,000+ steps that day as well as a serious badge) to get to the National Mall and watch your inauguration. My plan to start chemo on this Tuesday was delayed a week because my oncologist’s office in Washington, D. C. recognized the day as well as understood what a logistical nightmare it would be trying to get around. Like millions in the city who had come to witness you taking your oath of office, I was elated. But, my euphoria was eclipsed by my angst about the days ahead. You reiterated your vow to the American people – change.

(Me and my husband, Ray, at President Obama’s 2009 Inauguration)

You were busy leading the country and I was busy managing my chemo schedule. On disparate paths, we shared a common focus on health care. In a chemo induced nauseous, exhausted haze, I watched your 2009 State of the Union Address and was regenerated when you discussed health care reform and announced “… a new effort to conquer a disease that has touched the life of nearly every American by seeking a cure for cancer in our time.” Like you, I lost my mother to cancer. I also lost four cousins and my favorite aunt to cancer. As I awaited each brutal chemo treatment and detested getting my biweekly infusions, when fear and hopelessness were my constant companions, you provided an infusion of hope and quickened my faith.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Obama was building the framework for her Let’s Move! Initiative and planted the White House Kitchen Garden. Her efforts to combat childhood obesity and promote healthy lifestyle choices can reduce morbidity and mortality. I vehemently hope that I don’t pass to my children my genetic mutation for cancer, but instead pass on to them a healthy lifestyle. It’s consequential for them to also have Mrs. Obama as a role model and champion. Learning more about Mrs. Obama’s health-centric initiatives continued to kindle my faith.

I adjusted to my new normal after surgeries and chemo, a cancer free life, and you continued reform as Health Advocate-in-Chief. You signed the Affordable Care Act into law on March 23, 2010. With this legislation, some cancer screening services are covered under insurance plans at no extra cost; it ended the lifetime dollar caps on coverage; and also prevented a ban on coverage for pre-existing conditions. It was a blessing for me given my family history of and battle with breast cancer. As a woman who will be under the care of my medical team for the remainder of my life, which I hope is long, I depend on being able to see my oncologist, internist, surgeons and OB/GYN at least once a year. The Affordable Care Act ensured this for me. Another infusion of hope from you.

I had the honor of standing with you and other health advocates before Mother’s Day 2013 as you underscored the benefits of the Affordable Care Act and also highlighted benefits specific to women and mothers. It was a privilege to stand as a healthy mother of my growing children when a few years earlier the future was uncertain for me. Happy Mother’s Day. The power of faith.

President Barack Obama delivers a statement on the Affordable Care Act in the East Room of the White House, May 10, 2013. (Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson)

Your first term accomplishments and future plans earned you mine and millions of votes to be elected for a second term. This time, I braved the unseasonable cold with my 8-year-old son and 5-year-old daughter in ski suits so that they, too, could witness history at your second inauguration. You continued your work with the scientific and medical community and in your 2015 State of the Union Address announced your Precision Medicine Initiative to improve health care delivery “to enable a new era of medicine through research, technology, and policies that empower patients, researchers, and providers to work together toward development of individualized care.” When you launched the initiative, it was another great opportunity for me to join you, fellow cancer survivors and health advocates. We were buoyant as you outlined the patient benefits.

Precision Medicine Initiative and Health Advocates

Precision Medicine Initiative

You delivered additional patient benefits. In your 2016 State of the Union Address, you announced the Cancer Moonshot Initiative with Vice President Biden at the helm. “And because he’s gone to the mat for all of us on so many issues over the past 40 years, I’m putting Joe in charge of Mission Control. For the loved ones we’ve all lost, for the families that we can still save, let’s make America the country that cures cancer once and for all.” You shared that this initiative “…aims to bring about a decade’s worth of advances in five years, making more therapies available to more patients, while also improving our ability to prevent cancer and detect it at an early stage.” You implemented a plan to provide lifesaving cancer research. Thank you Vice President Biden and Dr. Jill Biden for your fierce and steady health advocacy.

Cancer Moonshot Initiative

Each year, I’ve celebrated my survival milestones and also the progress that you made with lifesaving health reform. Through the Affordable Care Act, the Precision Medicine Initiative, and the Cancer Moonshot Initiative, you delivered your promises. When I’m older and speak to my grandchildren about your extraordinary place in history, I’ll also share with them many more initiatives, programs and legislation that you promoted in our democracy. I’ll celebrate your two-term presidency. You provided a lighthouse when I treaded stormy and uncertain waves of change on my survival journey. As our country’s first African-American president, I’m sure that I’ll be overcome with emotion every time I relive your historic presidency. More than a leader, you are a teacher and a role model. You are an admirable global citizen and a standard bearer of excellence who inspires the best and delivers hope.

With pride and gratitude, I thank you, Mrs. Obama, Malia, Sasha, and Mrs. Robinson. Thank you Vice President Biden and Dr. Jill Biden. I wish you many blessings. Godspeed. My faith has been rewarded.

Because I Can

Posted on January 9, 2017 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life, Reconstruction

Last week, I resumed my three times a week jogging routine. Today, with temps in the 20s, I still got in my 4.5 mile outdoor run this morning. Prior to resuming last week, I had taken a two-and-a-half-week break; initially because of a cold and then because I was thoroughly enjoying being a holiday couch potato. I definitely value rest and relaxation (see A Restful Mind and a Recharged Spirit ). I really enjoyed my holiday break. So, it took me some time to get motivated and when I started back was running at a slower than normal pace. But, I got my 3 runs in last week and plan to get them in this week, too.

Running for me is almost addictive. There are so many personal benefits. I get my daily physical activity. The health benefits of exercise are proven and I’m especially mindful of trying to help reduce my risk of breast cancer recurrence. For me, I also benefit from the stress relief that I find during and after my run. I solve all of the world’s problems while I’m jogging. I’ve found it to be a fairly easy and inexpensive form of exercise since I run outside and don’t require a gym membership or treadmill. It definitely contributes to my health and wellness. But most of all, I do it because I can.

Not so long ago, I wasn’t jogging, but sock collecting. I have a drawer full of hospital socks, the ones you get when you have a diagnostic test or when you’re in the hospital. They have the slip resistant material on the bottom to keep you upright when you start walking (post surgery or post medical procedure). Through my breast cancer survival, I’ve collected a lot of these socks and wear then around my house. They are comfortable, but they are also a reminder of hospital stays, including my mastectomy (breast removal surgery), my oophorectomy (surgical removal of my ovaries) when sitting up in a hospital bed was a task and walking even short distances seemed almost impossible.

In addition to my hospital sock collection, I’ve also collected quite a few pair of running shoes. For the shoes that I’ve worn out, literally to no tread, I keep them as work shoes. In the last four years, since I’ve taken up distance running, there have only been a few weeks that I’ve taken off, mostly due to a cold or ailment. For someone who hasn’t been disciplined in every area of my life, this is one area where I’m focused and disciplined. I’ve completed 5 distance runs (four 10 mile runs and a half marathon of 13.1 miles). I’ve also completed some distance walks. I average 1 -2 distance runs annually. I don’t run for speed. I run for completion. When I’m not training for a distance run, I run as part of my routine. I’m not trying to qualify for one of the storied international marathons. I might one day, but it’s not my goal. I run because I can.

When I had my breast cancer surgeries and treatment, putting on a pair of socks and shoes for a walk around the block was as unthinkable as a 10-mile run. I’ve said it many times before that as I was laying on my back in a hospital bed or sitting exhausted in my chair while I was getting chemo any activity seemed like an impossibility.

But, I kept a vision of “life after”. I didn’t know what exactly it might look like. I didn’t envision distance runs, but I envisioned more than laying on my back or sitting exhausted in my chair. So, 8 years later, I run because I can.

I’m not really making resolutions this year, but more declarations. I’m bringing back music to my life (see Bringing Back Music to My Life in the New Year). As a cultural tourist, I’m keenly aware of the fact that as we age we tend to become confined by cultural norms or expectations. There are a lot of unwritten rules to follow and abide by as an adult. We do things, mostly the fun, imaginative, adventurous stuff of our dreams, somewhat apologetically. We put off our plans because it doesn’t seem to be the right place or time. We do only what’s necessary and not necessarily what’s fulfilling because it’s what we are supposed to do. But, I’m going to live the way I want to, with an even bigger vision, because I can.

Today I will __________ because I can.

This week I will __________ because I can.

This month I will __________ because I can.

This year I will __________ because I can.

Fill in the blanks. This year, I’m making my own rules and I’m going to live my life bigger and better than ever, full of fun and laughter BECAUSE I CAN!

What’s yours? Please share. I look forward to hearing from you and making 2017 a Because I Can year!

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor. Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate. Living my manifesto Soul of a Survivor and always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

Be Careful When and Where You Park

Posted on January 2, 2017 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life

For many, the last 1-2 weeks have been holiday, downtime or vacation. Many are off from work and school, some have vacationed and others, hopefully at least, have reduced their workload and to do list and relaxed a little. As I prep for return to work and my kids getting back to school, back to a busy and often extremely hectic schedule, I’m mapping out my week and planning for meetings, school events and getting my plans together.

I’ll admit that I normally am running late or just on time. This is the result of me trying to squeeze in one last thing; a habit I’m working on changing. With me running late, I generally find limited parking options and pull my car in wherever I can, jump out and walk/jog/run to wherever I have to be. And if it’s a crowded meeting, I usually get the worst seat where I can’t see or hear very well. Consequently, when my meeting is over, I often have to “remember” where I speedily parked my car. It’s a time waster and my car is usually a bit further away from where I am because the close-up spots are “reserved” for the early comers.

But this summer, my kids attended a new camp. Every day, during pick-up, I’d watch the traffic pile up which created a longer wait and more difficult time to get back to the main roads to get home. Because I had to pick up my kids before the end of my work day, I needed to get them quickly to get back to work responsibilities. I quickly devised a plan. I would get to camp a few minutes early to get a prime parking space. I started parking my car in the same spot every day. I always pulled in, turned and park in the direction headed toward my next appointment. The space where I parked was out of the heavy traffic and allowed me to quickly pick up my kids and bypass the traffic to get on the road.

The process was so smooth and efficient that I’m working to adopt it in my other planning. Somewhat simple, but impactful lessons, especially as I prepare to WIN 2017. There’s a path that I want to take. I need to be parked in the best space that will allow me to be prepared and ready to move, sometimes quickly, in that direction. Traveling a little earlier will allow me to avoid bottlenecks. The best parking space has several advantages. I’ll keep this top of mind. Be careful when and where you park. Moving forward. Ready. Set. Go!

Melanie A. Nix – Triple negative breast cancer survivor. Resilience Coach, Reconstructionist™ and Health and Wellness Advocate. Always striving to color outside of the lines when defining my new normal.

www.breastcancercomfortsite.com/blog

Bringing Music Back to My Life in the New Year

Posted on January 1, 2017 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life, Reconstruction

After a subpar childhood piano career, I resumed my piano lessons when I was 35 years old. I remember how I jumped up and down and celebrated when the used black upright piano that I purchased was delivered to my house. Even as the mother of a 13-month-old son, I was dedicated and likely the most disciplined I had been. I was faithful to my lessons, my practice and focused on becoming an accomplished pianist.

I love music and wanted to fill my home with countless piano “concerts”. I envisioned my family sitting around the piano and Christmas tree during the holidays as I performed a list of traditional holiday favorites as well as performing concerts throughout the year where I played a variety of genres.

As an adult, I remember nervously sitting next to kindergarteners as we prepared for our spring recital in 2008. After the birth of my second child, this was my first recital in almost 20 years. My emotions vacillated between excitement and frustration; excitement that I was pursuing my piano dreams and frustration that I hadn’t been a better childhood student and hadn’t mastered the piano at almost 40. Nevertheless, I was excited to be performing a culmination of a few years of lessons that had me proud of what I had recently accomplished and further lit the fire under me to keep getting better. Despite a few missed keys, the spring recital was great and I beamed with pride as my family and friends got to see my hard work. Despite being a working mother of two (I had recently taken a much-needed break from corporate America), I was able to maintain my family focus while making piano lessons a priority and working on my other professional endeavors.

Until that devastating derailment also known as my triple negative breast cancer diagnosis. In my sudden and immediate change of priorities to better understand my breast cancer subtype, research treatment options, physicians and focus on survival, I withdrew from my upcoming fall recital.

That was 8 years ago. Aside from the occasional moment that I plunk at a piece from my childhood or adulthood recitals or some of my half-written songs and a few comical attempts to provide lessons to my family, the piano has sat largely unused. Sometimes dusty and out of tune, it represents a stark contradiction to the dedicated days of practice, my scheduled piano tunings and appreciation for the instrument and music I was able to produce.

The years since my breast cancer diagnosis have been filled with highs and lows, a challenge as I find my way in my new normal. Dreams I once had have been replaced by new dreams. U turns have been a large part of navigation in my new normal. Reconstruction has been an overriding theme. As 2016 closes with another year of survival, another holiday and my 47^th birthday, resolutions I used to make have been replaced by one simple declaration for the year ahead. I’m bringing back the music to my life!

Things that were out of tune and dusty in my life will be dusted off, tuned with a refocus to have beautiful melodies today and the next day and the next day. This is a work in progress. I look forward to recommitting myself to some of the things I “lost” and making my new normal more bright and beautiful.

I pray that there’s also beautiful music for you in 2017. I’ll keep you posted and hope to hear about your 2017 adventures.

Happy New Year!

www.breastcancercomfortsite.com/blog

5 Important Lessons on Being Grounded

Posted on September 7, 2016 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life, Reconstruction, Uncategorized

On Monday, I discussed a postponed beach trip, but why I’m keeping my bags packed anyway. (I’m hopeful that this weekend I’ll get there). But, it put traveling and road trips on my mind. I’ve had a few instances where a flight was grounded and a trip turned, unexpectedly, into an extended or overnight trip. When making alternate arrangements and thinking about the time I was losing, I was irked and irritated by being grounded.

I’ve hated being grounded. I’m impatient. As a reconstructionist™, having dealt with the physical, spiritual, emotional and financial devastation that comes with life-threatening illness and life devastating events, I am always eager for an uncomfortable or bad situation to quickly change. I’m always looking for positive change.

I’ve been grounded a number of times, by flight cancellations, and by my late mother disciplining a young mischievous daughter (me). I’ve also been grounded by a job layoff, business opportunities that failed and relationships that fell apart. When I was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer, I was grounded by the physically, spiritually, emotionally and financially debilitating effects of treatment. Each situation triggered anger, irritation and impatience. A forced delay in my plans has never been good. Or has it?

The irony is that while being grounded seems a waste of time, it can actually be a gift of time. As I reflect now on life’s delays and plan changes, I realize that being grounded is sometimes the ultimate gift of more time to rest, plan, prepare, and perfect; to be fully ready to take advantage when my best opportunity arises. It’s my choice how I use my time when I’m grounded. I’ve started moving from bemoaning the situation to better managing the time to be fully prepared for an opportunity to fly.

A quick Google search provides the definitions of grounded:

a parent refusing to allow a child to go out socially as punishment
to prohibit or prevent (a pilot or aircraft) from flying
a person who understands what’s important in life

When a parent grounds a child it is the parent’s experience and wisdom guiding them to deter the child’s unwanted or bad behavior. It is a push for more positive behavior and outcomes. When a plane is grounded, it is the experience and wisdom of the pilots, air traffic controllers, mechanics, and aviation experts who make the decision to delay the flight. When a person is described as grounded, it is their experience and wisdom that enables them to focus on what’s important in life. A person who is grounded can prioritize those investments of time, energy and attention that will yield the most rewarding outcomes.

When I think back on the groundings of my youth with clarity and perspective, I realize that these distraction free periods actually enabled me to be a better student. Without the distractions of the telephone (landline in my day), parties and other outings, my focus was more intense and there was a palpable difference between being a good student and dedicating time to being a great student. It helped add a measure of discipline to my young life that I was lacking.

And, as someone who has had my share of hours watching an airport monitor change from a flight delay to a flight cancellation, I’ve got experience being grounded in airports. Often viewed as a waste of my time, when I again reflect with my hindsight 20/20 vision and a more mature perspective, I realize that my time was better spent focusing on how to be productive and make great use of the time while I was grounded versus focusing on what I was missing. Just like a mechanic who is called to fix the plane, it can be my opportunity to focus on and make my own repairs and improvements. The mechanics use this grounded time to put the plane in a better position to have a safe flight at a great altitude. Maybe being grounded is a sign that I’m not (yet) ready to fly.

For sure, being grounded is a time to think really hard about what’s led me to this place and where I’m trying to go. At times, it’s definitely meant that I’m burnt out. Maybe I’ve used too much time, attention and energy on things outside of myself. Maybe I need some physical or mental rest. I need to refuel. Maybe I just need time to stop neglecting my needs and focus on me. Life’s distractions can find a way of pushing us away from our needs. We can stop nurturing ourselves in constant haste to get from here to there and back again.

Finally, by being grounded, I can become more grounded. Without distractions, with a focus on making better use of my time, with a focus on me, I can prioritize and truly zero in on those things that are important in life, those things that will help me get off the ground when my time is right.

Sometimes, no maturity or perspective can change the fact that being grounded can suck, especially when there seems to be no rhyme or reason why. We don’t deserve bad things to happen to us. I’m just learning to change my approach to how I use the time. When it appears that there are no introspective moments that provide clarity, this may be the clear sign that it is simply just time to rest and recharge.

I’m reconstructing life after breast cancer and these lessons are much clearer to me now. Each time I’m grounded, I have to be more attune to the chance to make the best use of my time. The 5 important lessons I’ve learned from being grounded are:

Being grounded provides an opportunity to change a behavior
Being grounded provides an opportunity to focus on making (personal) improvements and working toward excellence
Being grounded provides an opportunity to rest and refuel
Being grounded provides an opportunity to nurture myself
My changes that come from being grounded allow me to live a life that is in step with what’s valuable and important to me

At the very least, I owe it to myself when I’m grounded to be reflective and introspective to determine how to best use and manage my downtime. During chemo, I couldn’t walk a city block without extreme fatigue. I needed rest to heal. Now, post treatment, I’m a distance runner who has completed a half marathon and three 10 mile races. I hated being laid off, but found it a beautiful time to spend more time at school with my small children. I was able to attend daytime school events and presentations, sit at school performances without a laptop in tow and a cell phone in my ear, half listening to a work conference call. And surely one of my prayers when I was diagnosed with breast cancer was having the opportunity to watch my children grow up. With this gift of time, I was able to do so with far less interruption from the seemingly never ending call of the corporate world. I was able to move away from the early morning, late afternoon meetings, the stressful deadlines and the unreasonable demands of my corporate grind. I’ve transitioned to writing, speaking, and coaching; things that I love and that provide such fulfillment and joy that I wouldn’t have been able to do while sitting in my cubicle.

As adults, we are no longer under our parents’ watch and constant care. But, God and life have a way of redirecting us, grounding us, when we would otherwise be going in the wrong direction. I didn’t get to the beach last weekend, but got the opportunity to spend some wonderful days with my family and friends that truly fed my soul. When a business opportunity doesn’t come to fruition (yet), when a financial investment doesn’t show great reward (yet), when a personal opportunity doesn’t yield positive results (yet) and I’m grounded, I have to remember that it may be a sign that I need to rest and then put in more work, more planning, more preparation in order for me to be ready to take flight and soar!

Keeping My Bags Packed

Posted on September 6, 2016 by Melanie Nix | Reply | Posted in Playing the Whole Game, Quality of Life

***NOTE: I send my thoughts and a special prayer to all, including my father, who were near, in the path of and/or impacted by Hurricane Hermine.***

Last week, I counted down the days until our family’s annual pre-Labor Day beach trip which is a quick two hour drive from our home. For our family, the beach is such a fun place. We love riding the waves, making sand sculptures and, for me, meditating and being at a place of serenity. Somehow the sun seems brighter reflecting off of the ocean and the rays of the sun seem warmer when my feet are in the sand. The waves washing up on shore sounds like beautiful music to me. I packed our bags and watched the weather forecasts, tracking Hurricane Hermine.

Last Friday, the day before departure, I was still optimistic that the weather would hold up. Although the forecast for beach day was cloudy and in the mid-70s, rain and wind and the onset of the storm were forecasted to hold off until late afternoon. By then, we’d have spent a few hours at the beach, walked the water’s edge, meditated by the waves and gotten some sweets from our favorite candy store.

Friday night, the forecast changed with rain and the strong winds expected much earlier in the day. I still held out some, although fading, hope. I had filled my gas tank and had already packed the car. I was ready for an early morning departure with little to do except get in the car and go.

I went to sleep hoping and praying that the forecast might change, as forecasts tend to do even over short periods. I was hoping the storm would lose its strength by morning. When I awoke, the forecast was much the same as the night before. I tried to get accurate and up to the minute information and thought I might go to the beach later in the day; still hopeful. As I got the detailed information, it was clear that the storm was too strong and meteorologists urged beachgoers to make alternate plans.

It was evident that the weather wouldn’t be conducive for the beach any day during the long weekend. This marked the first time in some years that we would miss Labor Day by the water. I unpacked the car, but I left my packed bags in the corner of my office and chose not to unpack them. I want to be ready. The forecast for this coming weekend calls for good beach weather. Whatever routine we planned to return to this weekend, will be changed if the weekend weather forecast remains the same. I’m not unpacking my bags because I want to be ready to jump right into the car and make the trip this weekend. The storm may delay me, but it won’t stop me.

I’ve had many storms in my life; cancer has been the most consistent and biggest storm including my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis, her recurrences and death from metastatic breast cancer; my aunt’s breast cancer and ovarian cancer diagnoses, her recurrences and death from metastatic ovarian cancer; my own triple negative breast cancer diagnosis when my children were four years old and 19 months old. Throughout my life, I’ve learned that you generally won’t know when a storm will come, when it will end, and the strength and intensity of the storm. Because I’ll never know when storms will come and go, when they will begin or end and how many storms there will be in my life, I’m leaving my bags packed, always ready and prepared for the end of the storm and always chasing the sun!

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