Becoming Ruthlessly Hopeful: “Imagination is the Instrument of Hope”
I headed into 2022 feeling grateful and hopeful. After my mastectomy, all the news I got about my cancer was really good, and my treatment going forward required no chemotherapy, just hormone therapy. My reconstruction surgery was scheduled a week before Christmas. After going through the recovery for my mastectomy, I expected to breeze through the recovery for it. I remember just wanting to get it over with and get this whole cancer episode behind me. There was a lot to be thankful for: I was healthy, my family was healthy, and I started a new job in November with an organization doing important and meaningful work.
Not What I Expected
The reconstruction surgery went great, but the recovery was not what I expected. My plastic surgeon had explained that she would do liposuction to harvest fat to fill in around the implant. I remember saying, “Sweet! By all means!” She further explained that there would be bruising and discomfort, but I figured, “How bad could it be?” Well, the bruising made it look like I was wearing dark purple biker shorts, and I was really sore. At my first post-op appointment, the nurse practitioner assured me that while I was extremely bruised, everything looked normal and the bruising would clear up. For the next few months, I experienced this lingering soreness in and around my abdomen and hips, and the bruising didn’t completely go away until June.
Next up was the first post-op appointment with my plastic surgeon. When the bandages came off, my surgeon and the nurse were thrilled by how good everything looked. Me, not so much. Even though I’d been told that the implant would look and feel different, it wasn’t until that moment that I fully understood what that meant. I remember telling myself not to cry as they cheerfully told me how great I looked. Over the next few months, there were many tears as I tried to get used to my implant. As I was working on this, I was emailed an article about the FDA discovering a possible link between breast implants and cancer in the tissue and fluid surrounding them, which was like pouring gasoline on the fire.
Two months into the year I had been so hopeful about, I was let go from my job. My boss explained that it wasn’t because of my performance. Instead, she needed to rethink how the organization was evolving, and she couldn’t justify keeping me on while she worked with the board of directors to do that. She had incredibly kind words and a lot of appreciation for the work I had done, and I received a severance, which was generous given the size of the organization and my length of employment. But being let go stung deeply. In my head, I understood her reasons. But I found myself thinking at times “If I had just worked harder, things would have turned out differently.”
I began looking for a new job, which I hadn’t done in a very long time, but my resumé was in good shape, and I had good references. When I started applying for jobs, I got interviews but no offers, unless you count the offers to start my own insurance business - no thanks. The longer my job search went on, the more demoralizing it became. A low point was when I was ghosted by the person managing the search for a position I was really interested in. I got an interview, which I thought went well. But I never heard from him again, even when I emailed several weeks later to inquire about the status of the hiring process.
Connectedness to Others, Meditation and Prayer
As I was looking for a new job, I was receiving bills and threats of being turned over to a collection agency for the mastectomy I’d had back in August totaling over $45,000. Every time I got a bill, I called our health insurance to find out why it wasn’t paid, and I was asked the same question, “Do you have supplemental health insurance?” I always answered “no,” because we didn’t and then got assurances the bill would be paid. In the midst of this back and forth and everything else, I am ashamed to admit that I had moments when I thought, “Maybe I should have just let the cancer kill me.” My sister, Maggie, supported me when I really needed it. When I told her about the unpaid bill, she got mad and offered to call the billing office on my behalf. I didn’t let her do that, but I felt so much better. The bill was eventually paid, but it took a long time and many phone calls.
Brandy who is always ruthlessly hopeful
My connectedness to others kept me hopeful enough to navigate this challenging time. Joe kept me afloat with unconditional love, support and encouragement. Andy, Sam and Ellie also gave me unconditional love and kept me busy, which saved me from being overwhelmed by self-pity. Family and friends helped me keep things in perspective, provided thoughtful advice and find humor in the challenges I was experiencing. Brandy, our dog, got me out for walks, patiently listened to all of my complaints and reminded me of the importance of rest. Meditating and daily prayer helped calm my anxiety by reminding me that I am part of something bigger.
Hope On An Aqua Blue Post-it Note
One day I did a search on the word “hope.” I was procrastinating and wasn’t expecting to find anything useful. But that search led me to the work of Drs. Rick Snyder and Shane Lopez, two pioneering hope researchers and Dr. Chan Hellman, a leading hope researcher, founder of the Hope Research Center at the University of Oklahoma and co-author of the book Hope Rising: How the Science of Hope Can Change Your Life. I started immersing myself in the science of hope, watching Ted Talks and reading as much as I could, including Hope Rising. I can honestly say that book came to me at just the right time. One of the many passages I highlighted is, “obstacles to agency, goals and pathways in real-life situations can impact hope and create enormous frustration and anger.” So true! I also highlighted “imagination is the instrument of hope,” which gave me comfort and inspiration. I began to re-evaluate my goals, pathways and willpower/agency. As I was in the midst of that, I came across an aqua blue Post-it Note inside the drawer of my nightstand that, believe it or not, contained hope, and the seed for Ruthlessly Hopeful.
To Be Continued:
Becoming Ruthlessly Hopeful: “You Must Believe Tomorrow Will Be A Better Day”
