Blameless

No Blame

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As I sit on a bluff above Georgia strait, with the city of Vancouver in the distance, I am thinking about the concept of blame. There are so many reasons to blame another. So many things to blame as to the cause of our illnesses, failures and disappointments. And yet…

When I was diagnosed with cancer my oncology surgeon made it clear that I was not to blame. He strongly stated that I had done nothing to cause my cancer and could have done nothing to prevent it. Some would disagree, but I chose to believe him. Although that was ten years ago, I believe him still.

I have seen the extra suffering that blame causes. A couple of years ago a young woman with advanced cancer was interviewed in the Globe and Mail. When asked what surprised her the most she said, “how I was blamed for getting cancer.”

How did this terrible judgement come to pass?  I believe it is an unintended consequence of the notion that illness can be prevented with the proper lifestyle choices. We use the word “prevention” as though it guarantees outcomes, rather than using expressions such as “reduce your risk,” or “up your chances.”

Don’t get me wrong. I am all in favour of healthy lifestyle choices. Those choices make me feel better. Yet, I disagree that they prevent anything. Naturally they have a positive impact on our well-being and quality of everyday life and that is reason enough to pay attention to how we live. However, I have seen too many people suffer needlessly when their good choices did not prevent a serious illness.

But blame! We need less of it, although it seems to insert itself into so many corners of our lives. Take relationships. How often do we blame the other for our inconveniences, hurts and troubles? Daily life is fraught with opportunities to blame, especially on the home front.

Years ago I asked a good friend the secret of her marriage.  “We adopted a principle of ‘no blame,’ from the start,” she said. “We decided that life was filled with things that can go wrong. That each of us would make mistakes and hurt the other. Blame would only make it worse. So instead of blame we asked the question ‘what needs to be done to solve this problem or mend our hearts or fix the scraped side of the car.’ And we did it. It didn’t mean there was no discussion but there was no blame.”

Recently, I overheard my Grandson saying to his sister who was blaming him for something, “Remember Sophie, we are not a blaming family.” Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t but I enjoyed the moment where “no blame” was even under consideration.

I have also heard, with illness, the body being blamed; our thoughts; our Mother; or a myriad of other culprits.  I understand our human tendency, yet, I wonder if all this blaming ever really helps? What is the point to find fault and blame, in the long run.  Life is short. It is what it is. Maybe we are better off to move along and put our energy into what we can do something about. Why not place that sack of blame on the recycling bin and reduce our suffering, as it becomes compost for growth.

In life, it is hard enough to manage and accept all the difficulties that come along with a serious illness. Let’s not add blame into the mix.

In relationships, no blame, does not mean no consequences. Nor does it mean no anger. And it certainly doesn’t mean condoning or liking. I see it more like a shift of attention where we shine the light on what happened, step back and solve the problem together. We provide space for each other to make mistakes. We allow for human frailty and tough conversations without slaying the other.

This is not an easy task but may be worth a try, while we have the chance.

Note: As I take in the cooler west coast evening air and watch a buck, a doe and a fawn, energetically and playfully frolicking in the yard. I sink contentedly into this magical moment. My thoughts, however, soon drift to Japan and are with my Japanese friends who are now sweltering under the threat of an enormous, devastating heatwave of historic proportions. May they too experience relief  soon – a cool breeze and a drop in temperature. Until next week, Trudy

importance of water for the brain Japan walk

Something Surprising

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Last week I accompanied a friend and my grandchildren to the Museum of Nature to view the special exhibit on the brain. Of all the marvels this wondrous organ provides, the surprising fact that has stuck with me is the effect of even mild dehydration on the brain.

I know from direct experience if I am under hydrated during a half marathon walk or a bike ride on a hot day – I get cramps in my legs;  feel faint;  get anxious and  want to lie down. What I didn’t realize is the effect of dehydration on my brain, particularly my executive functions. According to the Mayo Clinic and the info boards at the exhibit:

Studies show that if you are only 1 percent dehydrated, you will likely have a 5 percent decrease in cognitive function.

If your brain drops 2 percent in body water, you may suffer from fuzzy short-term memory, experience problems with focusing, and have trouble with math computations.

Further studies have shown that prolonged dehydration causes brain cells to shrink in size and mass. This is most common in the elderly, many of whom tend to be chronically dehydrated for years.

Yikes! It re-inspired my ever present interest in the basics: Sleep, eating well, moving my body, drinking water and spending time with people I love. When I don’t attend to these, many other things in my life tend to suffer. I just hadn’t specifically considered my brain in all of this.

I am not a proponent of prevention and I am not interested in “anti” anything. Like it or not we can’t control health outcomes. But I am committed to doing what I can, by attending to the basics, because they improve the quality of my everyday life. I simply feel better. And when I do take care of the basics it seems to me that I am also reducing risk of some illness and upping my chances to stay healthy.  No guarantees but even when misfortune strikes, I am in a better position to deal with treatment, side-effects and healing.

This walk through the brain installation was a reminder once again of how important the basics are.  I don’t always follow but when I do I feel better.

Sleep: 7-8 hrs on a regular schedule most of the time (this is my weak area that I strive to improve)

Eating well: we all know the drill while leaving room for our personal preferences. Most neglected on many plates are the veggies. Just like Mother instructed, eat more of them. The most important piece of nutritional information I received was at inspire Health in Vancouver, eight years ago. It goes like this: it is important who you chew with. Enjoy the people you dine with and enjoy your food.

Move: the best exercise is the one you will do. Find out what you like and do something every day. As we live longer and joints wear out or we face an illness we may not be able to do what we like the most. Be flexible and find something else and make it fun. There are so many ways to move. Never underestimate walking. Use poles if you have joint pains. Do what you can. Slow and steady works.

Water: tip –  fill a container(s) every morning and see that it is empty by dinner time. (I finish drinking by early evening and it saves me trips to the bathroom during the night) I aim for two litres. The experts suggest a little more, especially when it is hot, and also when it is cold. Best to be adaptable and never wait for thirst to be your guide.

Socialize: We do best when we have people in our lives. We laugh and commiserate and solve unexpected problems with each other. We need each other for our minds and hearts as it turns out.

Ikigai: A reason to get up in the morning. Having a purpose that matters to you. Each of us gets to figure out what our ikigai is. This is something that always lifts our spirits and as a consequence adds life to our days.

During this summer of heat waves, from coast to coast, stay hydrated and move, but more slowly. Enjoy your lives – a few good words, nature’s beauty, some fine food and music, meaningful moments, laughter and companionship. And don’t forget the water.

Note 1: I took this photo during a walking trip with friends, in the Kiso Valley, in Japan. What a delightful surprise to come across this scene, having hiked up an incline on a forest trail, in the heat. Water never tasted so good, and we were filled with gratitude.

Note 2: I made this post a little longer. Sorry about that. I am enthusiastic about my brain and water and look forward to cognitive improvements as I drink a little more H2O. :-)) See you next week, Trudy

Meaningful Memories Japan

Meaningful Memories

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I have always been drawn to creating meaningful events for ordinary occasions. What I mean is finding ways to make an event memorable by going the extra mile whether it is a Birthday for my Mother, a pre-Christmas family dinner, or our annual Chinese New Year. Any occasion will do as cause to celebrate.

This tendency, learned at my Mother’s knee, became even more important post cancer. Perhaps it is influenced by the certainty of my demise cozied right up to the uncertainty of when. No if’s involved. This knowledge leads me always to the realm of memory making and meaning – what is something that I can do for my loved ones and/or myself that will mean something and we will recall years later.

In conversation with others who have confronted life threatening and/or chronic illness I have found a common thread: a desire to create memories to leave behind. This has nothing to do with the legacy of achievement, rather, it goes beyond wealth and accomplishment in the public domain. While not excluding those important things, this is on a more personal scale.

This past weekend I had one such event. When my Grandson Rowan turned eight in May, in lieu of Lego, I presented him with a map that outlined a bike route we would take to a nearby town where we would stay overnight and cycle back the next day. His first bike trip.

I will never forget this trip. I am quite sure that Rowan will not forget it either. There is magic in an event like this where we stretch ourselves physically and mentally; encounter obstacles; solve them; see new sights; shoot video and photos; laugh at ourselves; meet new people; hear new sounds; experience our tenacity and grit and at the end of the day feel tired, proud and happy. An eight year old and an almost 72 year old. How could it get any better…and then it did – the late evening swim after the sun went down and the stars were turning on.

There are so many ways to create meaningful memories. They often involve a certain amount of personal risk – will the adventure be a welcome one; do my kids really want to spend 90 minutes learning the ukulele (the post uke sushi and prosecco helped) will they be the least bit interested in the treasured compilation of poems and so on. But even if something doesn’t work according to plan, well, we all get to improvise. And the events become fodder for family lore.

We all, at our core, are bold and brave and have something original to contribute. Why not do so while we have the chance? What are we waiting for? Why not splurge on life with each other while we have the opportunity? Carpe Diem, is more than a saying. It is a way to live with outstretched arms, and when we do that love easily triumphs over fear.

 

 

Note 1: It just occurred to me that creating this website and writing these blog posts are part of my risk taking and meaning making, although a little wider than my familial and friends circle. I will really never know if what goes on here is useful for someone, although that is my hope. I do know that it is helpful for me to show up and write.  And I thank you, dear reader, for showing up on this page to read. Enjoy these summer days. Until next week, Trudy

 

 

 

 

 

Help and be helped blog

How to Help and be Helped

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Recently, a friend introduced me to an excellent book, Turning Suffering Inside Out: A Zen Approach for Living with Physical and Emotional Pain, by Darlene Cohen. She describes her experience of being helped when she was very ill and required help with absolutely everything.

I found it draining to be helped by people whom I constantly had to reassure that they were doing enough, doing things the right way, seeing me often enough…How refreshing and soothing it was to be tended to by people who were able to approach me directly, without ideas about what they were doing for me… The two approaches produced a dramatically different impact on my energy level. …if you are suffering, the important relationships to you now are those that support the part of you that is vulnerable but struggling to deal realistically with a difficult situation… Now you need people who are ready to support the aspect of you that must face catastrophe with courage and truth.

Don’t be afraid that you appear too needy to such friends. When you settle into your true grief, you are not wearing on people in the way that people are before they face their suffering…you are encouraging and inspiring to your friends. This is not the stiff upper lip behavior of the denier; this is grief and tears and agony, but it’s real. This difference is palpable to those who wish to comfort you.

Darlene Cohen made me think of my experiences of helping and being helped and how confusing it all can seem. I recall my oncologist looking at me and saying, “Trudy this is not the time to be a stoic. I need you to ask for help, as soon as you need it. That is the best way for me to help you.”

Yet, as time went on, I found it hard to receive the help on offer. It was embarrassing. I wanted to continue to rise to every occasion and brush off the need for help. It still isn’t straight forward. Who wants to appear needy? This is a fear not just when we are ill but as we age.

Reading this book has been a nudge in two ways:

  • Seeing how important it is to be authentic, honest, present and vulnerable when I am in need of help.
  • When I offer help how important it is to be authentic, honest, present and vulnerable.

Not knowing is ok. Showing up wholeheartedly for whatever is going on is energizing even when it is exhausting. When I am the one helping I do not ever want it to be “a favour,” nor do I want to insist on “proper” expressions of appreciation. As a human these are slippery slopes. The gift of help needs to be a gift in order for it not to become one more transaction.

We can’t do it alone in life and there is no need to do so. I am convinced that the only reason we are here is to help and to be helped. This doesn’t imply that we can help everyone nor can everyone help us. But it does imply we do what we can with what we know, under our particular circumstances.

And even when we don’t get it right, in either capacity, we still have no reason to throw in the towel. Cohen’s book is a testament to the human spirit and a nudge to fully accept our capacity to keep on learning how to care for ourselves and each other.

We show up for each other, wholeheartedly, and we learn on the job by paying attention, as we live our lives.

Note: Sadly, Darlene Cohen died in 2011 from cancer. I have just recently heard of her and haven’t finished this book yet. Her devotion to people living with chronic illness and her four books are a significant part of her legacy. I am grateful to have this opportunity to meet her through her words.