During my husband’s battle with cancer I learned a lot. I learned how to jump start the car in the dark and race to the hospital at warp speed without getting a ticket. I learned how to give a shot (step 1. close your eyes). I even learned how to make our health insurance company pay bills they tried to get out of paying. Hello, Blue Cross? Do you really mean to not pay the anesthesiologist? Was my husband supposed to be awake for the procedure? Or maybe you’d have preferred he scrub in and assist? But the biggest lesson I learned came at the end of Stu’s life when he said, “Susan, I miss my life.” Then and there I promised myself never to miss a moment of my life again. For more, click below. Thanks!
A few years ago, I was offered a job I never in a million years thought would come my way. I couldn’t believe it. I was honored, touched, thrilled, and convinced I better say, “no thanks.” I mean, how could I take that job? I didn’t have the skills, the experience, the years of sweating in the trenches that it would take. I’d get fired. Or would I?
A wise woman once told me, “Guilt is a wasted emotion.” It’s like sitting in a rocking chair; it’ll give you something to do, but it’s not going to get you anywhere. In fact, the only place guilt takes us is down a deep, dark rabbit hole of self-loathing where lots of us (present company included) like to set up camp and stew about what lousy human beings we are. We’re not lousy human beings. We’re simply human. For more, join me here.
You’ve got to laugh. People frequently ask me how I find the humor in hopeless situations like cancer caregiving and raising a child with autism. The answer is pretty simple: humor gives me distance, it gives me the chance to step back, get a grip, and get on with it. For me, it’s the equivalent of putting your oxygen mask on first, and then helping someone else with theirs. Click here for more. #humorbuildsresilience