Guest Post

This is a guest post written by  L. Aynn Daniels, M.Ed., CPM., CLC.

Aynn is a Life Coach, personal and organizational development trainer, and blogger. She is also a certified project manager and her writings can be viewed at AynnDaniels.com where she provides strategies and resources on discovering your purpose, defining your passion and designing your destiny.

She is completing her 1^st E-book entitled, “Roger Fromwell and His Threefold Destiny and has just signed as one of the co-authors of a forthcoming book with Jack Canfield (Chicken Soup for the Soul) to be published in August 2012.

She  is also the President and CEO of her own administrative-management consulting firm (LIANDA Consulting Group, Inc.).

Overcoming Adversity

There is the story of two frogs. One frog was fat and the other skinny. One day, while searching for food, they inadvertently jumped into a vat of milk. They couldn’t get out, as the sides were too slippery, so they were just swimming around.

The fat frog said to the skinny frog, “Brother Frog, there’s no use paddling any longer. We’re just going to drown, so we might as well give up.” The skinny frog replied, “Hold on brother, keep paddling. Somebody will get us out.” And they continued paddling for hours.

After a while, the fat frog said, “Brother Frog, there’s no use. I’m becoming very tired now. I’m just going to stop paddling and drown. It’s Sunday and nobody’s working. We’re doomed. There’s no possible way out of here.” But the skinny frog said, “Keep trying. Keep paddling. Something will happen, keep paddling.” Another couple of hours passed.

The fat frog said, “I can’t go on any longer. There’s no sense in doing it because we’re going to drown anyway. What’s the use?” And the fat frog stopped. He gave up. And he drowned in the milk. But the skinny frog kept on paddling.
Ten minutes later, the skinny frog felt something solid beneath his feet. He had churned the milk into butter and he hopped out of the vat.

In moments of trial and tribulation, you are faced with an inevitable choice. In those moments you may be tempted to give up. Often your options as well as your decision may be painful. Yet, a decision not to decide is still a decision.

Your ability to overcome adversity is based in your degree of resilience. Resiliency is loosely defined as one’s ability to “bounce back”.

Facing your fears and overcoming adversity is a valuable asset to have in any facet of your life. Work, relationships and other daily interactions all have challenges at times that need to be conquered. People with aversion to facing challenges are not likely to do well when confronted with adversity. Developing a positive attitude to adversity takes some effort but can be extremely beneficial.

Someone once said “A bend in the road is not the end of the road… unless you fail to make the turn.” I like the words in the Buddy Buie and J.R. Cobb, song, “Rock Bottom”, “Rock bottom is good solid ground, and a dead end street is just a place to turn around.”

Some Points to Consider:

Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional.  ~M. Kathleen Casey

If I had a formula for bypassing trouble, I would not pass it round.  Trouble creates a capacity to handle it.  I don’t embrace trouble; that’s as bad as treating it as an enemy.  But I do say meet it as a friend, for you’ll see a lot of it and had better be on speaking terms with it.  ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

Sometimes the littlest things in life are the hardest to take.  You can sit on a mountain more comfortably than on a tack.  ~Author Unknown

It is a common experience that a problem difficult at night is resolved in the morning after the committee of sleep has worked on it.  ~John Steinbeck

My strength is made perfect in weakness.  ~II Corinthians

Mishaps are like knives that either serve us or cut us, as we grasp them by the blade or the handle.  ~James Russell Lowell, “Cambridge Thirty Years Ago,” Literary Essays

So when faced with moments of adversity, trials and challenges:

✓ Look for the teachable moment in every adverse situation.

✓ Decide whether you will allow your experience to make, or break you. Your perception will determine your decision.

✓ Cultivate faith, courage, and resilience. The more of these qualities you are armed with, the lesser the impact of the adversity.

Overcoming adversity is one of our main challenges in life. When we resolve to confront and overcome it, we become expert at dealing with it and consequently triumph over our day-to-day struggles.

I look forward to your comments and suggestions.

It’s great to have Linda Hewett start ‘The Positive Spin’ column in The Life Skills Magazine. She’s a fantastic lady and has got a lot to share with us on the blog and magazine with a view to inspire and motivate us .

She is a writer, blogger and confidence coach and blogs at Positive Spin – Live life on the upside!

In her blog, she looks for the ‘positive spin’ in our daily lives and encourages us to look for the ‘small stuff’ that’s easy to miss, or even dismiss. She also believes that confidence comes in many disguises. All you have to do is…look

It’s a rare privilege to have her share her cancer journals with us and I hope someone would find some form of encouragement through the whole series.

My Year In The Company of Breast Cancer (Part 6 I’m still ‘me’ and I’m blooming)

Saturday 7^th October

Can’t remember much about last evening. I know Mike was there with a gorgeous bouquet of pale pink roses, despite me telling him not to.

I’m allowed to get up as soon as I feel ready this morning and I’m amazed at how easily I walk to the bathroom.  I risk a glance in the mirror and to my surprise I look exactly the same as I do most mornings – a bit half-baked – but with a quick flick of blusher and some lipstick I turn back into me.

Back in bed I think back over all that’s happened and write down a few tips that might help ‘first time’ patients before they come into hospital:

1.    It’s not frightening.

2.  Don’t bring enough clothes for a three week cruise and leave your diamonds in the safe – in my case, inside the grandfather clock.

3.  Talking of cruises, I’m glad I have a light, pretty dressing gown. It makes me feel feminine. It’s autumn outside but it’s tropical in here.

4.  The bathroom. Well, what can I say? Luxurious is not the word that springs to mind. Functional is more accurate. Apart from the ancient fittings, I find the bathroom is also used to store enormous cardboard boxes of mysterious medical supplies, quantities of plastic aprons and curious receptacles.

5.  Aromatherapy don’t come as standard and there are no pretty bottles of bath oil, you bring your own.

About visitors…

One important decision I made before coming in was that I only wanted Mike to visit. This may sound strange but I have always found it odd that when you don’t feel like talking and just want to finish that book or even doze, hoards of people descend, sit on your bed and expect yu to be sociable. Having said that, I did agree to let Catherine come as she particularly asked to, and I felt it would help her to see that I still looked like me.

Back to today. I enjoy my afternoon doze until Mike arrives, bringing hugs and a large bag of cards and gifts from neighbours and friends. Supper is wheeled in and he stays while I eat. I don’t know where all the tales of ‘school dinner’ type hospital food come from but I’m enjoying every mouthful. There’s loads of choice and it’s temptingly served. Not one whiff of overcooked cabbage! I can even choose a healthy low fat meal if I feel virtuous.

No, dear reader, I do not…

Sunday 8^th October

I wake at 6am to another Indian Summer Day.

I write my early morning observations in this poem:

HOSPITAL AWAKENING

Six-thirty.

Dim lights.

Shadows soften,

cups clatter,

whispers become

tired voices.

Night shift ends,

‘See you later…’

Someone shuffles

to the bathroom,

computers light

the nurses’ station.

Trolley traipses,

‘Cup of tea?’

‘Coffee please,

one sugar.’

Across the ward

Joan slumbers.

Her monitor winks

green and red.

I sip my coffee,

voices fade…

‘Bye, flower,

See you,

See you…’

Breakfast arrives. I think about the exercises we were shown yesterday, to help us regain full mobility in the affected arm. I’m not known for my love of exercise so I’m not too optimistic.

Cathy and I drag ourselves out of bed after breakfast to have a ‘go’. We find a corner of the ward where we won’t be observed as we practise ‘walking our fingers up the wall’, as high as we can. We’re supposed to lift our arms straight above our heads. Hmmm…They’re having a laugh…

There is a whole series of tortures to try but hysterical laughter forces us to admit defeat.

‘We’ll do it again tomorrow!’ we fib, collapsing in giggles.

This is what I didn’t expect – to be able to laugh so much. I’d imagined that anyone with cancer would never laugh again. We’re all in this together and it helps more than I know. That tower of profiteroles grows stronger every day and I feel very safe here on the top.

We risk a walk outside in the autumn sun. The air smells soft. I notice a solitary daisy in the grass and find it hard not to cry. Why am I so overcome by the sight of a tiny daisy? I suppose it’s about vulnerability, determination to keep blooming against the odds.

Back on the ward I ring mum. She sounds relieved to hear my voice.

‘How are you?’ she asks.

‘Blooming!’ I say…

It’s great to have Linda Hewett start ‘The Positive Spin’ column in The Life Skills Magazine. She’s a fantastic lady and has got a lot to share with us on the blog and magazine with a view to inspire and motivate us .

She is a writer, blogger and confidence coach and blogs at Positive Spin – Live life on the upside!

In her blog, she looks for the ‘positive spin’ in our daily lives and encourages us to look for the ‘small stuff’ that’s easy to miss, or even dismiss. She also believes that confidence comes in many disguises. All you have to do is…look

It’s a rare privilege to have her share her cancer journals with us and I hope someone would find some form of encouragement through the whole series.

My Year In The Company of Breast Cancer (Part 4 In Hospital)

Wednesday 4^th October

It’s the night before I go into hospital. I can’t believe how normal I feel!

My son tries to explain how hard it is for the onlookers. He says it’s a good idea to let them do whatever they feel they want to do, to help. I must admit I didn’t want them to fuss, but now I can see that fussing is exactly what I must let them do.

I know I’ll be well looked after. Strange, I don’t feel afraid, just apprehensive but strongly supported. I am worried about the chemo. What if it makes me sick? What if I lose my hair? Then I remember that I don’t do ‘what ifs’.

I say a prayer, sitting on my favourite ‘talking to God spot’ on the stairs and a thank you to all the hospital team.

I tell myself I can do this.

My mother phones. ‘I love you and love you and love you,’ she says. Tears trail down my cheeks. She never tells me she loves me. We don’t do that. I stand with the phone in my hand for several minutes after she’s rung off, picturing her alone in the house with her thoughts and fears.

Gently I replace the receiver.

Thursday 5^th October

Slept well again. I ring to find out what time my bed will be ready and find I have an extra hour to fill. I find distracting activities; I water the herbs, tidy the bedroom, sort my wardrobe, dust the cat… well, I would have eventually.

We drive the few miles to the hospital and Mike insists on carrying my case.

‘I’m not ill!’ I protest. ‘I can manage!’

The nurses’ station is busy. While we wait I notice another anxious looking couple with the ubiquitous suitcase. I watch as she’s shown to her bed and her husband hovers while she unpacks. I’m pleased when I find my bed is next to hers. We tell our husbands that they don’t need to hang around but we’ll see them in the evening.

I’m told I can remain dressed and a white identity tag is put round my wrist, like a plant at the garden centre.

A selection of doctors, and anaesthetist and various nurses ask questions, explain things and make notes.

The surgeon says the deed will be done about 2.30 tomorrow. I ask if he can give me a ‘gin and tonic’ prescription. He smiles and says he’ll see what he can do.

I introduce myself to my neighbours. After a few minutes were practically on one another’s Christmas card list and I learn that Cathy is having the same operation as I am. It feels as if we’ve known one another for ages.

Margaret and her husband have organised an Auction of Promise and raised £8,000 for the hospital. I feel humbled and wonder what I can do.

I scribble in my Journal. They’re intrigued.

Friday 6^th October

Here we go…

Can’t believe I slept to well again. The bed is so comfortable. I had expected to lie awake all night, counting nurses. Mind you, it was a bit different from home, with phones ringing, nurses chatting in low voices, plastic aprons rustling and rubber soled shoes scuffling.

Cathy and I are given our early breakfast and then nothing more until afterwards. I take my first ‘gin and tonic’ pill (diazepam) with my coffee and try not to keep glancing at the clock. Eight hours or so to wait. What on earth are we going to do to pass the time?

We find a couple of armchairs at the end of the ward and settle down to chat. Two of our new best friends come to join us and very soon we’re giggling, laughing and exchanging experiences and the morning seems to fly by.

We look on enviously as the others enjoy their lunch. We order a light meal for tonight but know we might not be awake enough to eat it.

My tummy rumbles with hunger and nerves.

Just for a moment, one shaky moment, I think I’m going to lose it.

‘I don’t think I can do this!’ I say in a voice I don’t recognise.

Theresa from across the ward knows just what to say.

‘Can’t do this? Of course you can. If we can, you can!’

‘If we can, you can,’ I repeat in my head, trying hard to believe it…

Mike arrives and promises he’ll be there when I wake up. I have to take off my wedding ring and he puts it in his pocket to keep it safe. The porters arrive and I’m whisked away…