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Have you heard of Namrata Singh Gujral's film, 1 A Minute?
I hadn't until one day last week, a sort of rough around the edges post-surgery day, when I typed "breast cancer" into Netflix search.
What appeared was exactly what I needed.
As Gujral says, "This film is not all pink ribbons and balloons... my hope is to provide families and friends with a glimpse of their loved ones 'real' journey... not a scripted screenplay that some Hollywood writer churned out on a rainy afternoon."
I think this is one of the reasons the film resonated with me.
I think this is one of the reasons the film resonated with me.
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My daughter's drama teacher has a daughter of her own who was recently diagnosed. The first time we talked after I found out I had cancer she told me, "Everybody's cancer is everybody's cancer. It's the same on paper but the journeys are different because we're different."
These are some of the wisest words I've heard to date, and it's one thing this montage captures beautifully.
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Like Melissa Etheridge, I feel a strong spiritual component to my diagnosis. My medical file says I am diseased but inside I feel cleansed. Freed.
The end-of-the-world feelings haven't happened; I don't feel like they will. I did have a moment, uncovering new plants in the strawberry patch, when I thought, will I be doing this next year? I thought about helping my husband find a new wife and mother if my prognosis was grave. I felt thankful for the time I took to share certain life skills with my daughter.
Jaclyn Smith, Diahann Carroll and some of the other women talk about not feeling sick. I dropped off some shirts at the cancer support center one day and there were several women with chemo symptoms in the room. I've seen chemo patients before -- we all have -- but this time I left and went to my car, shaking. All I could think was, I don't belong here! This isn't right. I'm a little tired but I'm not sick. A few days before surgery I entertained the idea of scrapping the whole thing. Just forgetting about the diagnosis and moving on.
When you fear it, and then you become it and go through it, you realize how flimsy fear is.
(Melissa Etheridge)
I am blessed, because I learned this before I was diagnosed. My daughter whispered to me the last time we saw the surgeon, the day we would find out lymph node biopsy results, "What's wrong with you? You are so relaxed. It's like you never freak out about this stuff."
And she's right. I think about it. I deal with it. I live it.
I don't freak out. I've got better things to do.
These are some of the wisest words I've heard to date, and it's one thing this montage captures beautifully.
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Like Melissa Etheridge, I feel a strong spiritual component to my diagnosis. My medical file says I am diseased but inside I feel cleansed. Freed.
The end-of-the-world feelings haven't happened; I don't feel like they will. I did have a moment, uncovering new plants in the strawberry patch, when I thought, will I be doing this next year? I thought about helping my husband find a new wife and mother if my prognosis was grave. I felt thankful for the time I took to share certain life skills with my daughter.
Jaclyn Smith, Diahann Carroll and some of the other women talk about not feeling sick. I dropped off some shirts at the cancer support center one day and there were several women with chemo symptoms in the room. I've seen chemo patients before -- we all have -- but this time I left and went to my car, shaking. All I could think was, I don't belong here! This isn't right. I'm a little tired but I'm not sick. A few days before surgery I entertained the idea of scrapping the whole thing. Just forgetting about the diagnosis and moving on.
When you fear it, and then you become it and go through it, you realize how flimsy fear is.
(Melissa Etheridge)
I am blessed, because I learned this before I was diagnosed. My daughter whispered to me the last time we saw the surgeon, the day we would find out lymph node biopsy results, "What's wrong with you? You are so relaxed. It's like you never freak out about this stuff."
And she's right. I think about it. I deal with it. I live it.
I don't freak out. I've got better things to do.
I will have to watch that video. It looks good. You have such an amazing outlook on this whole thing. I am inspired. I think I understand, about going through something you fear, only to realize how flimsy that fear is. I used to think that something like losing a child would be enough to send me off the deep end. Then I had a miscarriage. It was hard, but I was also surprised at how strong I really am.
ReplyDeleteI'm just amazed by you Tara... taking your beautiful believe shirts to share with the other women. It's just like you to do that. It's has if maybe somehow, there was this purpose for you designing them and making them.
ReplyDeleteAlthough you had no clue at the time...Imagine the women's lives they've touched!
Your little "moments" are to be expected and you have every right to have them. I'm glad you seem to shake them off and move on. You are right; you have better things to do with your time!
You're my super hero girl! I know you are to Tess and your hubby too. I'm so glad you're past the surgery part. Have you heard any news about further treatment needed or not? Praying for not!
I'll be sure to check out the film... I had no idea... one every minute; mind blowing.
((hugs sweet friend))
((Dawn)) I can't imagine how surrealistic it must be to lose a child through miscarriage. I know that in times past, people used to focus on the replacement child that would come soon if the mother was young and healthy. Perhaps those types of comments came because the people speaking were at a loss for words (although I think you can never go wrong with "I'm sorry" and a hug)... A couple we know lost a child last year and they had a memorial service. I thought it was beautiful and very appropriate. I hope that you and Derek were able to grieve openly and received the support you needed and deserved. Fear is a funny thing, kind of like the man behind the curtain in Oz, you know?
ReplyDeleteAnet -- my number one cheerleader! It's funny that you should mention the foreshadowing on the shirts. One of them was a prototype created from a loose design in order to show digital printing directly on fabric. And the design was... wait for it... my survivor mandala in a Breast Cancer Survivor design. Talk about getting a chill up your neck! I hope the women like their shirts.
I know that 30 radiation treatments and 5 years of a hormone blocker pill (instant menopause -- yay! NOT) are suggested, and possibly chemo. I'm not feeling too hip about any of the above mentioned. Something about purposely polluting my own body feels terribly wrong. I'm looking at projected recurrence rates and trying to decide how much, if any, of this I want to do. Oncologist at the end of the month...
If either of you watch the film, I would love to hear your thoughts.