You go bald and see how it feels. It's like being naked

My latest via Divorced Moms. Have an amazing Valentine's weekend!

 

Bald and Naked. The Power and Beauty of Vulnerability

By Lizzy Smith                     

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February 13, 2016

One of the bright spots of my cancer diagnosis is that, over the years, I have met the most amazing people. Cancer warriors generally rock because it changes you and your entire life focus in an instant, and that’s usually a good thing. One such person I met during my journey is Pat who blogged at www.multiplemyelomablog.com. I took a lot of comfort in Pat’s writings because he gave knowledge, hope and cheer. Pat was often interviewed and during one, he teared up and said that he was on bonus time and that every day was a gift. He no longer feared things he once did—like walking down dark allies or airplane turbulence. No more sweating the small stuff. I am sad to report that Pat lost his battle with myeloma earlier this week due to complications from chemo. His powerful life and lessons remain.

Like Pat, I, too, fear life less these days. Pre diagnosis, turbulence terrified me, I hated birthdays because I was getting older and a step closer to death, heights made my palms sweat, and I approached life with an abundance of caution. I stayed in my dysfunctional and abusive marriage too long because I was afraid to leave it. I never did open my cupcake shop or doggy daycare center because… you guessed it, fear. Fear of failure. Fear that I would become more dependent on my husband, a man I grew to loathe more each day. I obsessed with the number of increasing grey hairs and wrinkles, realizing that I was getting older, which meant that employers would like me less, if I left my husband it would be harder to attract a date, and what if I didn’t have enough money to retire. Fear literally ruled everything I did.

And then cancer. Just like that, changed from fearful to fearless. True, I feared cancer, to an extent, except I knew in my gut I would beat it. I no longer was afraid of my husband. I left him, nothing was worth living another day with a tyrant. I didn’t fear the divorce. I stood in truth and courage and I looked forward to my day in court. I had a birthday (actually, I’ve had four more birthdays since cancer) and I celebrated each one joyfully (including the birthday I spent in the hospital). I might be getting older, I told myself, but, yay, I was still alive. On a flight to Copenhagen, we hit horrible turbulence. I didn’t even flinch. When I started dating again, I was just ME. I didn’t try to hide who I was, not my illness or my past, nothing. I was proud of my warrior status. I thought I was kind and honest and thoughtful. I was hardworking and loyal, sarcastic and demanding of myself and others. It was all there, like it or leave it, I was done pretending anything.

Liberating it felt. And it was good. Make that terrific.

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From Divorced Moms, if you can all handle a bit more of my story of hospital stays, inspiring, and finding inspiration, even from a hospital....

Severe Anxiety, PTSD, And Finding Peace Amid The Storm

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November 08, 2015

BY LIZZY SMITH

There really is nothing funny about Big Life Challenges: divorce, cheating, illness, depression. The more I talk to people whose lives seem perfect and happy, healthy and successful, the more I realize that it is often a ruse. There are so many people in deep pain and emotional distress that it tears my heart out. How could seemingly perfect people not have perfect lives?

Case in point: I just got out of the hospital yesterday morning where I spent five "glorious" days hooked to a 24-hour chemo bag. I have multiple myeloma, a blood cancer, and I had three great years of remission. I relapsed last year and it is time for some major treatments to get my numbers back in check. They will be, no doubt, but these treatments are time consuming and they really disrupt your life. Little things-- like I was planning on doing a product review wearing really fun costume jewelry and getting dressed up and taking pictures. Nope! To the hospital for you instead. 

So during my hospital stint, I developed chemo cough. To be cautious, we scheduled a chest Xray to ensure that i wasn't developing anything more serious, like a lung infection. When I arrived at Xray, the tech, bless her heart, said, "Wow, you do not look like a chemo patient. You are beautiful and radiant." Her words perked me up. We never know what small word of encouragement at just the right time can have enormous impact on someone.

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For Divorced Moms: How To Celebrate Bad News? Go Skydiving, Of Course

Can we handle another skydiving story? This one is for my audience at Divorced Moms.

How To Celebrate Really Awful News? Go Skydiving

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by Lizzy Smith for Divorced Moms

November 04, 2015

I am a cancer survivor (multiple myeloma, a blood cancer). I was diagnosed in January 2012 and, as part of my treatment, had two auto stem cell transplants. These are not fun or simple procedures, I assure you. They involve too much chemo, hair loss, and, well, you get the picture. I got into remission for three years but it came back. Managed by a plethora of drugs over the past year, my doctors have determined that it is time for another stem cell transplant to bring my numbers back down. I'm ok with it. I'm doing well, I'm confident and know that I will beat this again. Myeloma is manageable, thank goodness, but it's a long road of treatments and more.

I decided long ago that my approach to life is survivorship, warrior-status all the way. When I was first diagnosed with myeloma, I had a decision to make: 1) let this devastating news defeat me by staying with my abusive husband, allow myself to continue being bullied by him, and expose my children to a really unhealthy home environment surrounded by alcoholism; 2) beat it, kick, it, survive it, and craft a new life. I chose to do something Big, Bold and NEW. To find, purpose, love, passion, and joy. And I've worked really hard in doing just that. Since my initial diagnosis, I've done some really cool stuff: I got a divorce, found new love, remarried, helped launch www.myelomacrowd.org (a fabulous site for myeloma survivors and we are working on funding curative clinical trials), traveled to Europe twice, South America once, gone on a few cruises and road trips and so much more. Life is better, cancer aside, than it ever was before.

So I live as big as I possibly can. In addition to my entering into another transplant, my 48th birthday is coming up on Friday. Last year, I went paragliding to celebrate. This year, it was time to take it up a notch. In addition to wanting to do something GRAND as I headed into "u-fun" treatment, I wanted to celebrate another year of life on this planet. It was time to cross something off of my Bucket List. I chose to go skydiving.

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Validation from the ex's family. My saga is updated via Divorced Moms

I sometimes take snippets from the early days of my blog, refresh them a bit, and post them on Divorced Moms, which gives me a very large audience. My story is one that I don't necessarily write in order of events but, rather, what strikes me as important at that moment. You can read below in case you missed my original post. Today, I feel this is an important piece of my story. Not too long ago, a reader contacted me about a similar experience. Her husband is an alcoholic and his put-downs are really extreme. But this is what an abuser does-- takes as much as the self-esteem away from his partner as possible so she is less likely to leave him. What is critical is not believing the lies and, instead, spending that time getting strong so that one is able to leave.

It is amazing to me how many women are strong, independent, and even earn good incomes yet stay with abusers. It isn't an income or education level thing. Victims come from all age groups, across the spectrum of attractiveness, income level, and the like. A victim is a victim is a victim. Why do some women stay when she sometimes holds all the cards and can get rid of the looser in her life? There are a million reasons, none of them good. It is a very sad situation and I can only say that getting cancer made me strong in ways I wasn't when I was healthy. Go figure. Cancer made me strong enough to not only leave my alcoholic husband, but to fight him in the courts and win every single thing I wanted, and to thrive in a better relationship. I hope it doesn't take a life threatening illness for others to walk away. If this is you, save yourself at all cost.

Yesterday, I had another bone marrow biopsy, my third in five months. My partner from The Myeloma Crowd, Jenny, told me to ask for the lollipop, which is a fast-acting pain killer. "I don't even remember the experience and the side-effects of the drug are gone just a few minutes after the procedure," she said. So I went into this one thinking that I would drift off into nothingness and would come out of it pain free. So I was on the table and started sucking the lolli and guess what? It totally failed me! It didn't help one tiny bit with the pain and discomfort. And because I wasn't mentally prepared for feeling anything at all, I was really super unhappy. For a second, I envisioned myself telling my tech to stop right there and I was leaving. See ya! And then I remember that I don't have an option if I want to monitor my disease closely and pick the right treatment plans for me. So I stuck it out but I am so incredibly tired of biopsies! This myeloma journey is really un-fun sometimes. I'm getting really burned out from doctors, appointments, needles, prescription refills, pills, more needles... One day at a time. Tomorrow will be better.

But on the happy news, I have been invited to be a guest speaker at a divorce survivor's retreat in North Carolina next month. I said yes and now I'm busy putting together my presentation. I am really excited and flattered and, no doubt, I will share all the details with you along with links to the retreat in case any of you are interested in going out there some day.

I must run, as I have infusion this morning.

Peace and love,
Lizzy

The Alcoholic Hubby Is A Legend (In His Own Mind)
by Lizzy Smith                    

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August 25, 2015

My ex husband is an alcoholic. A highly functioning alcoholic who could hold down a job (barely) but hit the bars the second he could. Truth is, he works for a public utility and (no offense to you utility workers who are really amazing employees), as such, he did not need to produce and compete in the same way one must if you are working for a small business or large corporation. (There is no competition for public utilities and employees can get away with producing almost nothing and not get fired. That is the truth.) Because by noon on many days, Rob was already sitting in a bar getting wasted off his ass, oftentimes going to sleep (i.e. passing out) by early evening. Very few employers would ever put up with that but at the utility, his bosses didn't even notice. I did and it was positively stunning that he managed not to find himself on the unemployment roles. So I use the words "highly functioning alcoholic" loosely.

After five years of living a life a total chaos, lies and volatility (get drunk, scream and throw temper tantrums, apologize profusely and promise to enter treatment, enter treatment but not really be at AA meetings and instead be drinking again and lying about it, repeat), I finally left just days after getting diagnosed with multiple myeloma, a blood cancer (Tom Brokaw has this disease, so does the actor Mat Damon's father). Actually, I fled this abusive monster on the Saturday of MLK weekend and moved to Utah. I had thrown clothes into trash bags, put the cat in a carrier, and drove off. And as I drove towards Utah, I received text after text from Rob. They varied from "I love you, come back, I'm so sorry" to "you're a lying bitch." It was truly bizarre and unbelievable. I couldn't get away from him fast enough. In fact, just days after I left, he sent me an email stating that he got on Antibuse (a prescription that makes an alcoholic really sick if they come in contact with alcohol) and that prior to getting the prescription, they had to check his liver function. He told me he had a PERFECT liver! I wanted to throw up. One of the main effects of my disease was that it attacked one's liver and many with my disease first presented with complete liver failure. It was so incredibly inappropriate that it made my head spin. But that's Rob for ya.

What really confused me, however, was that Rob's family was silent. Well, Kellie, his younger daughter from his first marriage, called and texted me to see if I was OK. Kellie and I had a rough start in our relationship but she had ended up being a close friend and confidante. It was a relief to learn from her that Rob's abusive behavior wasn't just reserved for me-- he had done it to her mother as far back as she can remember. But, I kept wondering, why was not a single person from Rob's family calling or texting me at all?

And then I got "the call". I won't betray confidences or throw anyone under the bus so let's suffice it to say this: The person who called me was one of Rob's adult family members (not the children).  The phone conversation was basically to relay this: Rob had emailed his entire family telling them not to have any contact with me. He went further by telling them that he wanted letters from them saying anything awful they could about me so he could present it to a judge when the time came (oh, if he had really done this, I can imagine what a judge would have thought. This kind of stuff made me more determined than ever to fight.). This family member said that their family always stuck up for each other and that is why no one would contact me but that they all realized Rob was sick, that he needed help, and that what he had done to the kids and me was wrong. This person also said that Rob had promised (again) to enter treatment for his alcoholism but instead was busy trying to find a new girlfriend. In fact, he had contacted one of his brother's friends trying to arrange a date the weekend I left him. (Rob had also contacted his brother asking if he could move in with them but that no one in that home wanted him there because Rob too often snuck into their liquor supply in the middle of the night.) This family member said that they were all stunned with Rob's rush back into another relationship. He had done this after he and his ex wife, Tina, split-- dating way too soon instead of taking time to heal. And he was repeating it. They all recognized Rob needed a lot of help and therapy and time, but they all realized, too, that Rob was incapable of doing that. (I have to say, when I learned that Rob had emailed Tina just weeks prior to our meeting telling her how sorry he was for how he treated her, I was sick. I felt so stupid that he had been trying to repair things with Tina just weeks before he pursued me with a vengeance. It made me feel so stupid and used. And Rob did this again with the new honey. If I were her, I'd feel like an idiot, too.)

...And then I got to thinking: Is remaining silent the right approach to take when you know a member or your family needs serious help? If your son or brother was sick, wouldn't you try an intervention? How many times had I called his mom and discussed Rob's problems with her. She tried the soft approach with Rob-- setting up appointments with her priest, asking him how therapy was going, calling me at work asking me if I would take her son back if he got help... But no serious intervention, which Rob desperately needed. Maybe if that had happened, Rob wouldn't have destroyed two families.

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Summer is over. Back from our last trip of the summer (and it was fabulous)

We got home last night from our final trip of the summer. Crocodile tears, seriously. This blog post is a quick recap of our trip and to prove that life post myeloma or cancer diagnosis continues. It is up to each of us how we handle our challenges and how we wish to approach life. Sit down, think about it, and decide which is best for you (emotionally, physically and spiritually).

Not long ago, a fellow cancer survivor asked a group of people if her approach was shared by any of us? She just felt like each day, she plodded through life. We are all different. On this journey of Myeloma, there is no "destination." There are moments in this journey where we are in the midst of hard core treatment and we simply can't do more than survive each day and fight to get well on the other side. And then there are lulls in treatment where we can do anything we could do before getting sick. And then there is everything in between. That said, I decided long ago to live better, grander and with more purpose than I ever did before. Looking back, I simply survived in my prior life. Joy, spontaneity and "purpose" was contrived. I worked, I waited for my husband to have his next alcoholic explosive tantrum, I sat in traffic sucking fumes, and I fretted. I do my best to minimize all of those things. Hence, my insatiable desire to explore and build relationships, memories and experiences.

So on that thought, the last time I left off on our travelogue, we had just arrived in Charleston, South Carolina. In this beautiful, historic and oppressively hot and humid city, we walked the streets of Old Town. It was quite similar to Old Town Alexandria, Virginia, a town I lived in for seven years. We visited the former Slave Mart and Ft Sumter where the first shots of the Civil War rang out. Morgan and Siena were great-- they survived the heat and humidity and saw amazing sites and learned a lot. We ate fantastic seafood and shopped for T-shirts, spices and magnets. Morgan and I bought very cute sundresses and shorts. Siena got necklaces.


The following day, we headed back to Savannah because we loved it that much. From my phone, I booked what looked to be a beautiful mansion turned into a B&B in the historic district. When we got there, we realized that the hotel had been on our ghost tour a few nights prior. Whooohooo! Our room was BEAUTIFUL, huge with a gigantic fireplace and charming bathroom. The girls were terrified. "Anna" the hotel's ghost, haunted the room just three doors down from us. And, really, she did hauntings throughout the hotel, as Miley Cyrus also experienced just a few years prior to our arrival. The girls insisted on sharing the huge four-poster King bed and leaving the TV on all night. To celebrate, the next day we all got T-shirts that said "I slept with a ghost." The breakfast was basically a cookie display (yum!). The next morning, we hit up beautiful churches and another graveyard. But the best part was sitting outside the night before eating dinner and listening to live music. We didn't want to leave and our dinner took a really long time to get through (on purpose).




On our way back to Orlando, we stopped at Fort King George, the oldest fort in Georgia. Unfortunately, there was a sign warning us not to approach the wild alligators. The girls both had a meltdown but I made them explore anyway. We never did see any signs of alligators.


We met up with my best friends, Julie and Shane, spent the night with them for the next two nights, and went to Disney World. It was so hot and humid, there are no words. We did it anyway. It was fine but I'm done with theme parks and, honestly, I like Disneyland better.



William arrived two days later. We picked him up at the airport and we spent the next three days at the beach in Jacksonville. The girls had surf lessons and we kept the boards for two days. We visited St Augustine and I fell in love there. We stayed with William's brother, Bob, and his sister-in-law, Kim in their beautiful (and I mean BEAUTIFUL) home. They were perfect hosts. And our final night we spent on a boat. It was perfect.



And William surprised me with this beautiful gold cross necklace, which I am wearing at the oldest Catholic mission in the USA in St Augustine in this photo. I am reading Killing Jesus, I'm a big huge Jesus fan, and I've been looking for the "perfect" cross necklace in, like, forever. William found it! So kind and thoughtful and totally unexpected. Lots of love :)

Last night, we flew home. There you have it. I'm back at infusion at Huntsman getting my Carfilzomib and I'm high on Dex. Tomorrow I will crash but tonight I will have endless energy. Our wedding is less than two months away. I bought two wedding dresses-- one for the photos and one for the party. One dress is here and it's perfect, the other I'm waiting so hopefully I love it as much as I think I will.

.... And tick-tock, school starts in nine days. On Wednesday, Siena and I have a date to go school shopping. We already have a plan on where we are going, what we are looking for, and the exact order we are hitting up the shops. Morgan has spent almost all over her money already so she's done.

Cheers! Live with purpose,
xo, Lizzy

Exploring the Southern USA. Southern charm, cooking and ghosts

Yesterday, we left Orlando, the girls and I. We stopped in Jacksonville for an hour to meet up with Bill's sister-in-law for lunch and continued on to Savannah, Georgia. I've never been outside of the Atlanta airport so this is my first time to Georgia. Oh my gosh, we fell in LOVE with Savannah. We walked the historic district, took a ghost tour, and ate delicious Southern food and drank sweetened ice tea as only Southerners know how to make it. Today we explored some more and went to the cemetery. And we sampled peach cookies.


We just pulled into Charleston, South Carolina (I've never been outside of the Charleston airport so this is another state I get to add to my list-- I think I'm up to 40 states now and the girls at about 24 states). We stopped at a plantation and also got some Southern barbecue.


Nothing, and I mean NOTHING, makes me feel more alive than traveling or exploring something new. I am not exaggerating-- you can burn almost everything I own (minus my Stuart Weitzman sandals and apple green Kate Spade bag) because I could care less about "things." Sure, I love cute clothes and great shoes and bags make me swoon. But I can't take any of it with me. I can, however, take with me my brain, experiences and relationships-- and that is all that matters. I don't care about careers and more items and shopping. I do love to buy magnets from everywhere I go and put them on a bulletin board so I never need forget my travels. I love to buy fabulous local sauces and spices because I love great, unique and delicious food. The rest? BURN IT. But you can't take my memories or experiences from me. You can have my possessions, though.


And that is what makes traveling so fabulous. The girls and I can bond and talk and learn. Together. On our ride up, we talked Southern hospitality and charm, the Bible belt, counted the number of churches we found (almost more than Mormon churches in Utah county), and Civil War sites. We visited a plantation and talked ghosts. I hope I'm raising daughters whose thirst for knowledge and experiences never wane. I hope they understand that the world and this country are big and vast and amazing, that not everyone lives or believes or eats the same way, and that they have choices in life. I don't expect them to make my same choices (gosh I hope not) or even pick my same Mormon religion (not that I EVER picked Mormonism, that one was handed to me at birth). I hope they appreciate the world and people and options. I know I do.


Cancer is awful. I wish I didn't have it and could be cured and never need to hear or think about the awful, dreaded C word again. But I have never had such a zest and appreciation for life since that diagnosis. I can't LIVE and experience enough since then. I am obsessed and I have no intention of curbing it.


The big house and career I once had? HATED IT. The vacation house? It was meaningless. The furniture and great towels and serving pieces and all the other things I was so busy acquiring? Don't care. Pointless. But every single trip I've had, every museum I've visited (from a doll museum in Manan, Idaho to Peterhoff in St Petersburg, Russia), every local cuisine I've sampled? It means EVERYTHING and I wouldn't change a thing. They're helping change and shape my heart and head and soul.


And with that, we are going to brave the rain and explore downtown Charleston. I've told the girls that they WILL sample grilled alligator this evening, and okra. Maybe even some pralines. Yum!

Which multiple myeloma patient are you? The victim, survivor or warrior (there's a HUGE difference!)

This article is for multiple myeloma or cancer patients (or anyone struggling with a debilitating illness or life challenge). From the Myeloma Crowd (www.myelomacrowd.org).

 

Which Multiple Myeloma Patient Are You? Victim, Survivor or Warrior 

by Lizzy Smith for www.myelomacrowd.org

There are three types of people who emerge after a multiple myeloma diagnosis (or any debilitating life's challenge):

1. The Victim
A victim is the innocent person of someone or something else. It is the person in the car crash who stopped at the light just like they were supposed to, or the one who endured the beatings of a spouse, who was frauded out of their retirement savings, or gets cancer. I am the victim of multiple myeloma. I was the victim of an alcoholic husband, too, which had all kinds of consequences when I was diagnosed. I couldn’t live with him, I had to take the children out of that environment and move them away from their beloved dad. I had to leave my home, dogs, job, town I loved, and all pretense of independence. Being a victim is real and heartbreaking. But sitting in victimhood mentality is equally heartbreaking because we continue to be the passive, innocent person taking no action to move forward. It leaves us stuck in nothingness, depression, sadness– with no way out and dwelling on it.

Richard Bach, the author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull (a fantastic book– if you haven’t read it, you must!) wrote: “If it’s never our fault, we can’t take responsibility for it. If we can’t take responsibility for it, we’ll always be its victim.”

I certainly don’t take responsibility for getting cancer. I did all the “right” things to stay healthy. I also don’t take responsibility for my ex-husband’s alcoholism– he was that way before we met — nor do I take the responsibility for his inappropriate behavior or actions. I do, however, take responsibility for marrying the guy and not leaving sooner. I take responsibility for responding in ways that weren’t good or right. And I do take responsibility by leaving the relationship, healing and putting on my boxing gloves during the divorce. I do take responsibility for scraping myself out of bed during cancer treatments and living a really full, meaningful, fun and amazing life. It would be easy to wallow in self-pity but I have consciously decided not to. I took a lot of responsibility for taking care of my mental and physical body so I increased the odds of making it through two stem cell transplants in the best way possible. Post transplants, I have taken an even bigger responsibility for my health so I can recover and be healthy and emotionally (and physically) strong.

Victimhood is powerless and emasculating. It is not a pretty place to be or stay. But there are powerful emotions that we victims feel that helps us stay a victim. For one, victims get lots of attention from others (you poor thing!). We don’t have to take some responsibility for our actions in some circumstances. We don’t have to force ourselves off the couch and work to move out of being victimhood. Plus, there’s something that feels oddly good about validating how we have a right to wallow. Poor, helpless us.

I recently met a woman who is a fellow multiple myeloma patient. She is in remission and her treatments have gone really well. But nearly every day she complains. She cries all the time. She’s tired and sad. Her employer is getting fed up with her behavior. Her co-workers are liking her less and less. Her children aren’t calling often enough and they don’t want to be around her. She may need anti depressants but she can’t call a therapist because she can’t stop crying. It really seems as if it is far better to share with the world her plight than to be thankful for remission, for living, and for the many friends who support her. She asks how on much longer she will live. Wait a minute, I wanted to scream, aren’t you in remission? Who’s to say how much longer any of us will live, including those without cancer?  I gotta say, as someone who struggles with her same disease, I’m really tired of hearing it. One day, I sent her an email about Myeloma Crowd Research Initiative (MCR). We really need us fellow myeloma survivors to band together and help cure our disease (you can read more here). All we are asking for, at this point, is for those of us to start a team. It costs no money and takes about 10 minutes. She never responded. How many times do I hear from those who are suffering through cancer treatments and their real (and hard!) lifetime of after-effects who want to do nothing in helping themselves recover? It is utterly frustrating.

So if you are stuck in being a victim, try this: Spend the entire weekend at home. Cry. Punch your pillow or walls. Eat an entire batch of cookie dough (actually, this sounds kind of good right now). Write out a list of how life sucks. I’ll bet you can maybe come up with 100 reasons. Don’t shower. Scream at your children. After a few days, do you feel better? Probably not. You probably don’t look or smell better either. Has your situation changed a bit? No. It might be worse, though.

2. The Survivor
I once read from a fellow myeloma patient that they never used the word “warrior” when describing cancer. They are a survivor. True, I believe we earn the right to call ourselves Survivor the minute we are diagnosed. And we will be Survivors the rest of our lives. But yet when I hear this word, it conjures up the person who has awful things happen to them and they manage not to bury themselves under covers and never get out of bed. Actually, this is the best we can sometimes do. Survivors do what must be done and press on. Survivors are resilient, but it feels as though when life throws curveballs, it’s a duck, cover and fight approach, and wait for the next challenge to come.
Repeat. Yes, I survived my divorce. I survived my marriage (barely). I survived cancer. But simply surviving wasn’t good enough for me. It still felt powerless, and that is not an emotion I enjoy.

3. The Warrior
And then there’s the warrior. Warriors put on battle gear and go to work. Warriors take risks. It’s not easy but it’s empowering, and that is an amazing emotion. To conquer. When I was going through a horrific divorce and chemo and stem cell transplants at the same time, I could easily have been the powerless victim. Or just survived the experiences. But I chose to fight.

My ex thought that my physical weakness brought on by the cancer and drugs would mean he could slam me in our divorce. He thought wrong. Cancer thought it could kill me. Neither had any idea what a formidable opponent Lizzy would be. I thrived post chemo. I healed. It wasn’t easy. I forced myself to walk, hike and even run. There were days that fatigue was so intense that I had a hard time rolling over in bed from one side to the next. But I dragged myself to the shower, put on my wig, and kicked a**.

I got court filings from the ex accusing me of faking cancer and demanding I go back to work. I stayed strong. Refusing to be bullied any longer was amazing.

When I met a fellow myeloma warrior, Jenny, who also lives near me, we didn’t meet up for endless lunches and wallow in cancer self pity. We launched a web site (www.myelomacrowd.org), started a fundraising campaign to cure our disease, and started hitting up magazines, newspapers and TV stations to share our powerful story.

I purchased plane tickets and love exploring the world. I hiked a really hard mountain and posted photos on Twitter (@lizzysmilez1) to let other cancer survivors know that it was possible to push ourselves and LIVE. I share my journey on my personal blog (www.lizzysmilez.blogspot.com).
Each day, we have the choice on how we are going to respond to life’s challenges. If you have clinical depression, then you need professional help that I can’t possibly address. But for everyone else, I can assure you that feeling POWERFUL is far better than feeling emasculated. It’s not always easy, it takes work. But it’s worth it. Plus it can be really, super, exhilarating, phenomenally fun.

To read the article on www.myelomacrowd.org, click here.

There they are! Finding my priorities while sitting on a cruise ship

My latest via Divorced Moms. Have a fabulous weekend. My girls are out of school for the summer so we are celebrating. It's looking like a daytrip to Park City is in order.

The First Step To A Happy Life? It's The Priorities, Baby
by Lizzy Smith                    

June 04, 2015

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“Remember who you are!” As a teen, my dad would almost always call out these words of wisdom to me as I headed out the door. No doubt he hoped that I would remember my values as I made choices throughout the day. The problem was, I hadn’t made any decisions on who I was or what I wanted in life. The values my dad spoke of were his values (and the church’s values). They were handed to me prepackaged and I was expected to agree and do my best to obey. But the rebellious soul I am, I simply saw those expectations as rules, rules that I needed to break, one at a time. Snap snap snap.

I went off to college and broke all the endless rules at Brigham Young University until I got caught and kicked out of school. I transferred colleges, graduated and entered the workforce. All of a sudden, the only solid rules I had were my employers’ and they were paying me to go along/get along. It was in my own best interest to assimilate into the adult world and I did, climbing the corporate ladder quickly and successfully. I also started living the expectations of an adult—getting married, becoming a mom, buying a house, paying credit cards, and acquiring. Acquiring all kinds of stuff—dogs, more shoes than I can count, furniture, artwork, a vacation house, an extra car… buy, buy, buy and then take care of all the stuff I bought and work harder than ever to make enough money to pay for all that stuff.

If someone had asked me back then what my life priorities were, I would have rambled off the typical “being a great mom, a great employee, loving my family, and taking care of my health.” Truth was I had no idea really what my life’s goals were. I had never written them down, or seriously challenged myself to think hard, come up with great answers, and then ensure that my life was matching those priorities. I made sure I had a 401k for retirement and hoped that my home would be paid off by age 67 the age of social security, and managed my vacation days carefully each year. It was truly a purposeless life.

And then I got cancer. Talk about a game-changer.

Fast forward three years later. It was Spring Break and we were on a cruise. I was sitting out at the pool, reading a magazine, and all of a sudden I had an epiphany. I took out a pen and wrote on the back of my magazine the things that really mattered in my life beyond children, family, and health. Here they are:

1. Be an interesting person. In addition to being as kind and thoughtful as I know how to be (that’s a given), I want to learn, grow and experience and share my stories with others. I want to continue adding to my depth as a person. The world is fascinating and I want to uncover it as much as possible. If I can't experience it, I'll learn from others or read it from a book.
2. Stay surrounded by interesting, amazing people. Boring doesn’t work for me. It doesn’t necessarily mean my closest friends need to be educated or wealthy or the best at anything, just interesting. A positive, fascinating, valuable addition to my world. I long stopped keeping people around simply because I didn’t know how to walk away. Life is too short to spend it surrounded by people who are evil, annoying, or simply not awesome.
3. Make the world a little better. If I hit the lottery, I would travel the globe visiting one orphanage after the next in developing countries. I would donate shoes, clothes and medicines and hold children that need affection and comfort. But I can’t afford to do that and I am still required to visit doctor’s offices twice per week. But I can make a difference in the divorced world, the abuse survivors’ world, and the cancer world. I can write articles and be an advocate, raise funds to find a cure for myeloma (my cancer), visit with other cancer fighters, and lend a listening ear. I can be a great friend. I can love my children endlessly and be the best mom I can. I can love and support my parents. I can be a great partner to my fiancé. I can try to leave the world a better place than I found it.

With these three points in hand, I now can prioritize my life. Laundry, paying bills, caring for my children, and heading to doctor visits are not negotiable. But beyond that, during those really busy days, or when someone asks something of me, if it doesn’t somehow loop back to my priorities list, it has become really easy to say no.

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Lizzy Smith via The Myeloma Crowd: The case for living LIFE today. Because it can all change in an instant

A wrote about this topic here on my blog several weeks ago. I added details, plus some advice and published this on Myeloma Crowd. This is an important article for anyone because tragedy, illness, and unexpected events happen to everyone, whether it be an accident, cancer, divorce... I could go on and on. That's why I've decided to live BIG and GRAND because life is right now, this very moment. It's about creating memories and relationships. May Zoe's story be one more powerful reminder. Laugh and have joy as much as possible. Because life can be beautiful and amazing.
    

The Case For Living LIFE Today. Because It Can All Change In An Instant

BY LIZZY SMITH

Who can ever forget their path to cancer diagnosis? No one. It is a life changing event of epic proportions. Some of us had health problems for a long time that were left too long either ignored or undiagnosed. Others, like me, felt just fine until hearing “you have multiple myeloma” unexpectedly. Either way, life changes forever in that one instant.

Such is the case of my friend “Zoe.” Just two months ago, she went to work, came home, fed the kids, cleaned the house a bit, got in an argument with her hubby and went to bed. The next day, her stomach was hurting something awful. She went to the ER and was admitted. She had a huge mass on her ovary, was running a fever, and her blood work came back positive for the gene that expresses with ovarian cancer. She got her official diagnosis that very night. Next up were more tests the next day to find out the type, staging, and best course of treatment.

This was all quite a shock. She really had no symptoms prior. Or did she? Looking back, she had lost quite a bit of weight, but she was trying to eat healthy. She was a little tired, but she worked crazy hours as a nurse in a hospital and had children. Nothing else seemed amiss.

Just the next day, Zoe was transferred to a cancer hospital via ambulance. A biopsy ensued, which came back inconclusive. A reason to celebrate? Not so fast… Chemo was starting up quickly, she needed treatment immediately.

About a week later, I got a text from our mutual friend. Zoe was not doing well and was heading into emergency surgery. The cancer had eaten away a huge part of her bowels and there was an enormous mass. They brought her to full consciousness just long enough to ask her if she was a “Do Not Resuscitate” and, if she was, she needed to sign paper work. She said no. They put her back under for surgery. Her odds of making it through the procedure were about 50-50. How can this be possible? Just days before, she was a normal person with a normal life– cancer and big changes not even on the horizon! But it was true, all to horrible, awfully true.

My friend and I cried. She was at the hospital; I was too far away to be there. At 2:15 AM I got a text. Zoe was still in surgery but the doctor had come out to talk to the family. Zoe was doing really well. They took out a huge part of her bowel and she was getting a full colostomy. They had also removed her cancerous tumor. She would have two bags for the rest of her life due to the colostomy but by the end of surgery, she would be alive. Alive! After recovery, she would need to start chemo for her primary ovarian cancer. Not an easy road but fighting (and winning) was now possible. After reading the text and a quick phone call, I sat up and bed and cried. A mixture of hatred towards cancer, and thanking God for letting her live so she could fight like hell, get well, and get back to the business of life.

Today, Zoe is still not doing well. There are complications, newly discovered masses, breaks in chemo because she’s too sick, and endless hospital visits. I have to believe she will beat this. I’ve met countless people in my work with cancer people who have been on the brink of death, have been told to get their affairs in order, and have turned it around, beaten the cancer and healed. She must be one of them. I asked our mutual friend to give her some advice from another fellow warrior who’s been there. This advice is true for everyone in any situation:

• Her odds of getting better increase exponentially by taking care of her physical body. To the best of her ability, she must eat power foods and eliminate anything processed. Her body needs help. Load up on organic produce, beans, nuts and seeds.
• Even ill and in a highly precarious state, get up and move as much as possible. I met a woman going through a transplant who managed to do modified yoga from her hospital room. I met another guy who walked the halls nearly every day throughout his transplant for over a month. By the time he was done, he had walked a marathon. Not everyone can do this, but push it as much as possible.
• Stay emotionally healthy. Even in a hospital join a support group either in person or online. Read self help books. Meditate. Pray. Laugh with friends even if it’s really hard. Ask for visitors if that’s allowed. Be surrounded by only great people who are there to support you.
• If possible, get acupuncture, massage and try hypnotism.
• Take daily showers and feel clean. If possible, get dressed so when you look in the mirror, you can feel strong and resilient even if you’re not feeling it (yet, anyway).
• Watch fun movies and read uplifting books. This is a time for comedies.
• Continue reading those magazine and books that show life can be normal. It can be inspiring to an extent.

And the overall theme of this experience (and article)? Life is normal. Until it’s not. And when that moment comes is anyone’s guess. The banality of bad news. Life changing events rarely come with warnings. We are doing life’s ordinary stuff when everything changes in one instant. You know, we’re walking the dog, putting dishes away, going through emails at work, sleeping… And life as we know it ends. Just like that. No fanfare. And how do we cope? Who knows.

And that’s why I’ve learned to live. Live BIG and GRAND as often as I can. As often as my health and treatments allow, and responsibilities to children, self, family and loved ones. I travel like crazy and have discovered locales that bring me great joy. I go hang gliding. I ski. I do things that are outside of my comfort zone. When I feel angry, sad and depressed, I hit up the salon, go for a walk, or play with my friend Katherine’s dog. Anything to get out of that zone and into a different one. I plan to go skydiving soon. Wear your favorite shoes, use your pricey perfume and favorite dishes daily, and break out the handbag you paid way too much for and have been hesitant to use in case you ruin it. Who cares? It’s doing no good in the closet. Go hang out with your friends and laugh. Pity parties are allowed, but letting them go for too long does accomplishes absolutely nothing and can be extremely dangerous to our fight to get well, recover, and our emotional, spiritual and physical health.

I pray and hope for Zoe. One more warrior to cheer on. Please, God, let her be ok.

Here's what Tom Brokaw and I have learned about surviving cancer. Tips for thriving in this crazy cancer world

My latest on Myeloma Crowd.

Here’s What Tom Brokaw and I Have Learned About Surviving Cancer       

By Lizzy on May 4, 2015 Life With Myeloma  

BY LIZZY SMITH

Today I read an article in Parade magazine featuring fellow myeloma warrior Tom Brokaw, journalist, author, news anchor. He has a book coming out on May 12, A Lucky Life Interrupted: A Memoir of Hope in which he chronicles his journey of myeloma diagnosis and treatment. There’s no doubt that a cancer diagnosis of any type radically changes your life, mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. And it changes the lives of everyone around you. Since it’s been over three years since I began my battle, I’ve learned a lot about me, my loved ones, priorities, my body, and, well, life. Anyhow, in Parade, Tom shares his tips for surviving cancer (or anything similarly traumatic). I second Tom’s tips, but have quite a few more of my own to add.

Tom’s Tips

It’s going to be harder than you think it is
Clinicians, oncologists especially, are so concentrated on curing and treating the disease they don’t give patients enough of the personal piece of it—this is going to be tough. I had fractures in my spine that had to be repaired that came as a big surprise; nobody warned me that I might get some really severe, threatening fractures. It was painful, and I lost two inches of height, bang!

Accept that your life is going to changeThe kyphoplasty [a procedure to shore up spinal fractures]was a life-changer. The doctor didn’t want me to play golf any more and was worried about me fly-fishing. Golf is something I enjoy, but fly-fishing is a different thing: That’s religion. Hunting is religion for me. I didn’t want to give those up. I did go hunting last fall, and I got really tired. Hunting is a rhythmic sport—you have to turn back and forth, and I had no rhythm whatsoever in my hunting. I couldn’t get my body to respond the way I wanted it to.

Break down the mystique of medicineWhen you walk into a doctor’s office you’ve got to have the same attitude you would about anything else. You’ve got to ask tough questions and you’ve got to not be afraid to challenge their credentials. There’s a lot of arrogance in the medical community. There are good, reliable websites you can go to for information— the Mayo Clinic, the Cleveland Clinic, Johns Hopkins. In my case I thought, ‘I’m on the Board of the Mayo Clinic, they did the diagnosis and they’re going to send me to Sloan-Kettering, which has a big reputation.’ Yet some things went wrong, frankly. But I had enough confidence to say, ‘Hey wait a minute. This is not working. I’m not happy about this.’

Make an effort when you canLast weekend I was invited to attend the Final Four in Indianapolis. I didn’t feel great; I had a sinus condition because my resistance goes down, but I kind of pulled myself together and I did it and I was glad I did. I had a great time. I’m a big event guy and I love those things.

Lizzy’s Tips

Know not everyone is your supporter. Cut them out of your life NOW
Honestly, before getting cancer I had the misconception that anyone who was diagnosed with a life-threatening illness or injury was automatically granted kindness and forgiveness from everyone around them. I was wrong. My then-husband called me a thief, drama queen, liar, and lazy, and spit in my face. I immediately left him and filed for divorce. Since then, I’ve heard from other cancer survivors who had people in their lives do horrific things to them. We survivors must cut people out who aren’t positive influences. Immediately. Our very survival (and sanity) may depend on it. Feel no guilt and never look back.

Side-effects, treatment schedules, and doctor appointments will dictate most everything in your life. Get used to itGet a good trusty calendar to help you keep track of it all your appointments, medications and tests. Refer back to it many times a day. That said, it is possible to work around your schedule and build a powerful and amazing life that matters. It will take trial and error to figure out how to work around it all but never give up trying. Depending on where you are in treatment, you’ll have times where managing it all is far easier than others. Expect the ups and downs.

It takes time to get used to managing your side effects. Never give up trying until you find ways that work for youI am taking Carfilzomib and on the days of treatment, I can experience intense muscle cramps. One night, I woke up in the fetal position whimpering before I was conscious enough to realize what was going on. I remembered what worked for me before: I jumped out of bed, rubbed peppermint oil into my calves, massaged vigorously, stretched, then piled up pillows under my knees to protect the positioning of my legs and feet, and went back to sleep. It was the last of my cramps. Initially at diagnosis, I had a really hard time with mornings to the point where I would often almost faint when getting up. I finally found a work-around that works for me– I spend 20 minutes with the TV on watching the news and slowly waking up. I then take a shower and go back to bed for a few minutes, then climb one flight of stairs, spend a few minutes resting on the couch, and then getting my kids up and starting breakfast. It works, but I tried many options before I discovered this. Bottom line: Never give up trying combinations until you find one that works for you.

Feel free to say no often
Know your limitations and say no when you can’t realistically do something. It’s ok, you must take care of yourself first.

Be nice to your caregivers, family and friends
Some of your medications (like Dex) will make you feel like a monster. You will need to remind yourself to be nice, say thank you often, and do nice things for your supporters when you’re feeling up to it. We cannot do this journey on our own and it’s not easy sitting on the other side of the cancer table.

Take care of your body
It’s easy to take lots of medications and sit back and be a sick patient. This is not to your benefit, though. Now more than ever it’s time to give your body all the help you can so it can fight better and stronger, and heal. Eat lots of fruits and veggies, beans, nuts, and fish. Limit or eliminate processed foods and sugar. Exercise. Get sleep. And have FUN. Yes, it makes a huge difference.

Live life like you never have before
Life is precious. Make your Bucket List and start living. When you’re feeling down and depressed, get out and do something fun. Go on a trip, go skydiving, make friends, take afternoon naps, take up a new hobby. Life is today. Grab it and find joy. Even with cancer, this is possible.

To read the original article and get a whole lot more info on everything myeloma, click here. If you ask me, Myeloma Crowd (www. myelomacrowd.org) is one rockin' amazing site, the best on the Internet. And I am thrilled, proud and honored to be part of it.

Your "New Normal." Life post divorce will never be the same again. It can be better

It's a really late night for me. I started off the day writing a few articles for The Myeloma Crowd, ran a few errands, then spend four hours doing a Boudoir Photo Shoot. For real! It was so fun and so far out of my comfort zone and it rocked. More details about that when I get photos. They are actually ready, I think, but I can't retrieve them until I get back from Spring Break. You see, I've been packing and writing and getting organized because in a few hours, the girls and I, and William and two of his daughters, are heading on a cruise. More details on that when we get on that cruise. Anyway, after my photo shoot, we went to dinner and Good Friday church services. Afterwards, hypochondriac myeloma warrior that I am, I went to urgent care because I suspected kidney issues. I'm ok, but I did pick up antibiotics. I flipping HATE CANCER. Because there is no rest once you've had a diagnosis like that. You are always worried about your health and it is EXHAUSTING.

Anyway, here is my latest on Divorced Moms. I'll be sharing news from the cruise. Happy Easter. May the spirit of God's love be with you.

Cheers, Lizzy

The New Normal: Life Post Split Is Never The Same
by Lizzy Smith                     

April 04, 2015

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We went to a beautiful and powerful Good Friday service tonight. And on our chairs was a card about death and beginnings. We were invited to fill it out and as I did, I realized how appropriate the same message was about divorce. After I completed it, my card read (and I am slightly editing it to suit our "divorce" purpose):

Death Certificate

I, Lizzy Smith, died on January 2, 2012, the day I had my husband removed from the home by police, leaving behind a hurt, angry, sick and confused woman. In that process, I gained a new life, freedom, peace and love.

Signed: Me

If you're considering a split, or are recently separated or divorced, here are a few things you should know:

1. Life will never be the same again
2. You will never look at love, commitment, marriage and family the same way again either. You will realize that dreams die and nothing is forever
3. It will hurt really bad
4. There will be days that you will want to lie down in the fetal position and never move again
5. You will want to stick pins in a voodoo doll that looks just like your ex
6. Sometimes, you'll want to stick pins in a different voodoo doll that looks just like your attorney
7. You will look at your children's pain and it will be horrific. The guilt and sadness will be overpowering and there is not a whole lot you can do to erase it
8. You will get very cranky
9. Physically, you might change a lot. Some women go wild with a new hair color and radically different wardrobe. Some won't be able to eat and will drop loads of weight; others will work their way through eating everything in the refrigerator. There are usually new bags around the eyes and a "blank look" when someone is talking to and you can't comprehend a thing
10. Financially, it will be painful. You will look at your attorney's new car and realize that you paid for it

And when you're in the midst of such turmoil, you should...

1. Be really nice and forgiving of yourself. There is nothing more traumatic than divorce, save death
2. Feel free to tell others that you are going through a really tough time and you're not functioning at full capacity
3. Tell others when you need help. Be specific because no one is a mind reader
4. Explain to your employer what is going on at home. She should know that you might not be capable of taking on a Big Huge New Project
5. You owe no one explanations about why your marriage broke up. That said, feel free to share with anyone you wish (just be careful you don't share intimate details at, say, work, so be careful)
6. You should seek help, whether it be from a therapist, support group, ecclesiastical leader, or a pile of self help books
7. Perhaps ask a doctor for anti-depressants if things get really bad
8. Take this opportunity to really try to eat healthy, get lots of exercise, and shower and put yourself together almost every day. Pity parties are allowed. Cry fests are normal. And spending a day (or three) in pajamas eating ice cream and watching sappy movies is to be expected. But it really helps emotionally to look and feel decent and to get out of the house. It is a crucial part of your healing process

That age-old saying that "time heals all wounds" is true. There will come a day when you will wake up and realize that you are ok, that you have survived, and you are ready to move forward. And from the ashes of divorce, it is possible to craft a better life for yourself and your children. And that is when your "new normal" will emerge-- a different life, a different you.

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