I once had a friend who was suffering from a rather aggressive form of breast cancer. It was touch-and-go for about twelve months, during which time she withdrew from work and friends to focus on her health, and her young family. When she finally made it through to the other side, her doctor told her there were many times he didn't think she'd survive.
When I asked her how she deals with having had cancer now that she's "out of the woods," she shook her head. "Physically I may be out of the woods," she said, "but it's like cancer is another member of my family, always there alongside us wherever we go."
A stroke is like that. We know the statistics. People who've had one are at much greater risk to have another. Despite my husband's family history of stroke, I was sure he'd be spared. After all, he took care of his health like no one else we knew.
When you deal with a major life-altering illness, all your old brain junk starts flowing. I've always been a worrier, so expecting another stroke was right up my alley. Sure, my husband now has the most boring diet on the planet, and yes, he no longer shies away from foods that are green. Still, I feel like I've lost my footing on predicting the future. False illusion or not, it's nice to go around believing you can control your destiny. We all need our denials to feel positive.
I'm not sure I'm capable of learning to let go, though. Oh, sure, I could start living in the present, but what fun is that? (Presently we have a doctor's appointment, and I have cleaning, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping and more on my "to do" list.)
Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree, though. Maybe I should be trying to control my bad habit of worrying.
I came up with a New Year's resolution about this. I began another journal, with a goal to learn calligraphy and flower drawing, two skills I still struggle with. I'd add words that would hopefully make me feel better.
Whenever a worrisome thought entered my head, I'd think of some kind of saying that was the opposite. Sometimes I found these online, and sometimes I dreamed them up based on what I'd want a fairy godmother to say to me for reassurance.
Years ago, one of my sisters sent me a postcard that said DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK. I hung it on the bulletin board in my counseling office, where many people pointed to it with a smile and a nod. It cheered me up, too, and it helped to put things into perspective.
This makes me realize that the shadow that follows us after a health crisis is not so much the stroke or the cancer or the disease we're faced with; it's the habit in our brains to believe what we've predicted. In many ways, worry is imagination gone awry.
We need that creative ability so we can predict what will happen if we walk across a busy highway without a traffic light, but we don't need it to worry about a future that may never happen. Still, that's easier said than done, but bad habits take work and effort to eradicate.
At this point, the one thought I find most reassuring is that life is a game of odds. We can take action to reduce our chances of bad things happening, like another stroke, and that's definitely within our power. We can improve our odds.
That's my little security blanket of control. If my husband and I can take charge of 90%, the remaining unpredictable 10% is not as a big deal.
This post is a great reminder to another super worrier like me. I have to talk to myself too. I think of what Shakespeare said: A coward dies a thousand times before his death, but the valiant taste of death but once. I tell myself, yes, some bad things will happen to me in the future, but I'll deal with whatever happens when it happens. But if I worry over the thousand things that could happen, then I'm suffering in an imaginary world. Thanks for the funny cartoons and wise words to help me practice controlling my fantasy thinking.