Fear

Recently, a very close friend asked me a very poignant question.

"How do you manage your fear?"

I was taken aback by this primarily because the close friend that asked it has always been what I perceive to be fearless. I've never seen her exhibit fear. I've known her for 33 years and while I know that she has her moments, she keeps them to herself. She does not manifest fear in the usual manner. She charges it. If I had to bet between my friend and a sabertooth tiger, I'd be hard-pressed not to bet against the tiger. Fear does not cripple her, it drives her...which is why her question to me caught me completely off guard. Suddenly, I realized that we are ALL vulnerable, and I am more vulnerable now than ever.

When I was first diagnosed with Breast Cancer, my greatest fear was for my children. How would they grow up and thrive without a mother? How would my husband manage given his job requires travel? I figured he'd probably get a 20 year-old Swedish nanny, so I stopped worrying about him pretty quickly. He's handsome. He'll figure it out. As for my kids, they are pretty resilient. They would probably do fine with a little more responsibility, a happy Papa... and a 20 year-old Swedish nanny.

But seriously, I have trouble with the question how do I manage my fear because I'm not sure what I'm afraid of. After 12 years in the emergency room, I've witnessed death, and it's usually at the end of a very long struggle which means death represents peace. Certainly, sudden death has a different and awful feeling, but natural death is not frightening to me. That is not to say that the possibility of a shortened life is not saddening. I love my life, my husband and kids and would like to go the long haul if I can, but I'm not afraid of the process of death, especially with plenty of narcotics in the world.

Cancer can bring pain and death. It can bring disability. It can change your life, but I could also get hit by a bus tomorrow. A lifetime of "what-if" doesn't get you off the couch, to the base of Everest or the top of a race course. Fearing the uncertain leads to a lifetime of banality.

And yet fear of the unknown is very real. I'd be lying if I said I didn't fear the unknown. It seems silly because the allure of the uncertain is also what drives us. My children have taught me that life is driven by the question, "What happens if I do this?" Well, if it happens to be hurling your sister down the driveway on a plastic push-car without a helmet, generally, it's probably going to leave a mark, changing fear of the unknown to fear of unanticipated trajectory. But there is also the possibility that if you fall in love with a guy living out of the back of his truck with no established earning future, working as a river guide, and a history of broken hearts behind him, something great might happen. Life is a gamble and while the unknown is frightening, it's also the most exciting.

I have no idea what to expect from the rest of my life. What seems like a hundred years ago, I had a life changing experience. I had it all figured out when I was 20 years old. I was on my way to an Olympic podium, I had a hot boyfriend, great ski sponsorships and my whole life was paved with success and endorsements....and then it was all changed by one little finish post. I woke up in an ICU with many broken bones which paled in comparison to my broken ego and I wondered what the world would hold for a 20 year old that put all her eggs into one basket. It turns out the best was yet to come. If there was anything I learned from crashing into that finish post, it was the old adage that anything that does not kill me makes me stronger and what lies ahead could very possibly be far better than anything I could design for myself.

What I fear now is hearing the following words from my oncologist: "Mrs. Robinson, you have cancer...again." Recurrence of metastatic cancer statistically comes back in the brain, liver or bone. I imagine that a recurrence of cancer would be psychologically devastating. Currently, we are throwing the kitchen sink at cancer the first time via western medicine. I am also banking on a new veggie diet, a complete lifestyle overhaul, and I have the "one breast bonus." I'm using my right breast as a decoy in hopes that if my breast cancer does come back, it will come back as breast cancer. Easily detectable and treatable, it might buy me another five years. Of course, there is no evidence or fact-based info that says it will work, but it gets me through the day.

So how do I manage my fear? I don't. I ignore it. I grasp at straws. I cling to good news and I stack my odds best I can to keep from stepping out in front of the sabertooth tiger. I throw myself in front of the baby tigers so the big one isn't as scary. I have given in to the fact that fearing the sabertooth tiger is pointless until you are standing right in front of it. So until it jumps out in front of you, keep making plans, charge the baby tigers, and revel in the good times and good friends. And when the big kitty does jump out in front of you...charge it... until it either backs down or swallows you whole.