I have never wanted anything so badly.
The days leading up to the meeting with my oncologist, to the appointment where I would find out whether or not all of my treatments had worked, were fraught with a weirdly anxious excitement. I was hopeful. I expected to hear good news. But I was afraid, too. My husband was nervous. Our families and friends were encouraging and optimistic, but I know they were worried. So much hinging on this brief visit.
Waiting for the doctor was torture. My pulse and blood pressure were wildly elevated. I stared at the scuffed tile floor, hands clasped, tapping the toes of my boots back and forth. I had received a lot of bad news in rooms like that over the past fourteen months. Mike rubbed my back with one hand, pulled at his hair with the other. As the minutes ticked by, I started to really worry. Surely, if everything were fine, he’d be in here by now? And then, footsteps, a knock, and it was time.
A curt greeting, a half smile, then,”Your blood pressure spiked. What’s going on?” A joke. Was that a joke? Ohmygodohmygod please just tell me I’m okay. “Your CT scan, it looks okay.” I didn’t say anything. My expression must have been disbelieving. He handed me the report. “Look at it. It’s okay.”
Sheer relief, a flood of it. Tears. Laughter. “Really? It’s okay? Really?” I took the report, read the words: no convincing pulmonary metastases, no abdominal or pelvic metastases. Just some radiation-related inflammatory changes in my lungs and a hairline fracture in my hip bone. No cancer. No cancer. Stage 4, no evidence of disease. The best we could have hoped for.
I hugged my doctor, kissed Mike, sent the text to my family: “ALL CLEAR!!!!” We discussed next steps. I will finish my year of Herceptin infusions (only two more to go!) I will stay on the estrogen-blocking pill, Tamoxifen, indefinitely. I will get my port removed. I will have reconstructive surgery. I will have another scan in six months. I will be vigilant of symptoms of recurrence. I will look after my whole self, body, mind, and spirit.
I floated out of the room, feeling released and rinsed clean. For the first time in over a year, I could breathe, fully and deeply, without feeling the constriction of anxiety across my chest. I was euphoric. And very tired.
I know there is a chance my cancer will return some day. But there is also a chance it won’t. Having this opportunity to reset has given me a tremendous boost of hope, confidence, and purpose. I am eager to move forward, to live with awareness and courage and gratitude. Spring is here. The garden is waking up. Signs of life are everywhere, within and around me. I can think and act with new clarity. I can remember life before cancer without regret. I dare to be excited to see my baby girl grow up. I have been so afraid of missing that.
I am also yearning to tell my story. This experience is life-changing, and it can feel very lonely. I am luckier than many; I have support, insurance, education, and privilege. But I am no more deserving of health, happiness, and well-being than anyone else. If I can offer hope and encouragement to someone who needs it, that would well be worth the discomfort of vulnerability that comes from sharing something so personal.
Life is funny; I am frequently tickled by its uncanny quirks and coincidences. Cancer was certainly not on my radar when I came up with the title for this blog. I chose it because I liked the ring it had and because prunes and pears were two of of my daughter’s favorite foods. I still like the sound of the alliteration, and Lucy still likes prunes and pears, but now I also connect those words to growth and healing. Pruning a rosebush of diseased or unproductive branches redirects energy towards buds and new growth. Paring a vegetable removes the dull, tough outer skin, revealing something vibrant, tender, and full of vitality. I feel as though I have been pruned and pared, my sickness and fear cut away, my energy redirected toward something much more positive. I can feel it happening, in a tingly, magical way. I am ready to heal, from the inside out. I am ready to grow and bloom and shine.
Celebration Supper: Tandoori Chicken with Saffron Rice and Lentil Salad
Ever since finishing chemo, I have been enjoying cooking and eating with new intention. I will admit to a victory martini following my happy results. (I mean, come on. A girl has to celebrate.) But then I got back to work and cooked the kind of meal I have come to crave, one full of international flavors and rich in cancer-fighting ingredients. Interestingly, though not surprisingly, cancer rates are lower in countries like India and Japan and Greece, places where people are more likely to be eating traditional dishes instead of the highly processed foods that makes up much of the American diet. It makes sense to model our eating habits after those of some of the healthier parts of the world if we want to live healthier lives. Eating this way happens to taste really good, too.
Broiled Tandoori Chicken
adapted from How to Cook Everything, by Mark Bittman
serves 3-6, depending on how hungry the people you are feeding might be
I have used this marinade on various cuts of chicken, as well as on tofu. It is bright and flavorful and full of anti-inflammatory goodness. It comes together fast in a food processor or blender, but you could also mince or grate the onion, garlic, and ginger and then stir everything together by hand. You could probably substitute coconut milk for the yogurt, too, if you wanted to avoid dairy.
Ingredients:
1 cup organic yogurt, preferably grass-fed
1 small onion, peeled and cut into chunks
2 cloves garlic, peeled
1 inch-long piece of fresh ginger, peeled
2 tsp maple syrup
2 Tbsp lemon or lime juice
1 Tbsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground turmeric
1/4 tsp cayenne
1 tsp sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
6 organic bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs
Lime wedges and chopped cilantro for garnish
Add yogurt, onion, garlic, maple syrup, lemon or lime juice, cumin, coriander, turmeric, cayenne, salt, and a grind or two of black pepper to a food processor or blender. Process until smooth. Give it a taste adjust the seasoning. Put chicken in a shallow pan or a large plastic freezer bag and pour the marinade over it to coat evenly. Let the chicken marinate in the refrigerator for as long as possible, ideally for several hours or even overnight.
Set an oven rack about 6 inches from the broiler. Preheat the broiler on low (or medium if you have that setting; my oven has only high and low). Remove the chicken from the pan or bag and wipe most of the marinade off so it doesn’t burn. Place the chicken skin-side down in a cast-iron or other heavy, broiler-safe pan. When the broiler is hot, pop the chicken in the oven and broil it for 20 minutes. After 20 minutes, flip the thighs over and continue cooking until the skin is golden-brown and crispy and the juices run clear, about 12 minutes more–but keep an eye on it so it doesn’t blacken. Serve over rice, garnished with lime wedges and chopped cilantro. I especially like this over saffron rice.
Note: Like I said, you can do this with other cuts of chicken or even tofu. You will just need to adjust the cooking time. If you use a boneless cut of chicken, gently pound the meat to uniform thickness before marinating it. With boneless pieces–or with tofu–you will also be able to shorten the marinade time to as little as 30 minutes.
Mediterranean Lentil Salad
adapted from The Cancer-Fighting Kitchen, by Rebecca Katz (Seriously…just buy this cookbook. It’s wonderful.)
I love Greek salad. This dish has all those flavors plus the protein boost from lentils. The original recipe calls for cucumber; I didn’t have one, so I used a small zucchini instead, and it worked great. You could add some diced tomato, too.
Ingredients:
1 cup dried lentils, rinsed and drained
1 clove garlic, smashed and peeled
1/2 tsp dried oregano
Sea salt
2 bay leaves
1 cinnamon stick
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 tsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp ground cumin
Freshly ground pepper
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 small cucumber or zucchini, diced
1/4 cup pitted Kalamata olives, sliced
3 Tbsp chopped fresh mint
3 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
Crumbled feta cheese, organic if possible, for garnish
Combine the lentils, smashed garlic, oregano, 1/2 tsp of salt, bay leaves, and cinnamon stick in a medium saucepan. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes. Taste the lentils; if they are too al dente, simmer for an additional 5 minutes or until tender. Drain the lentils and discard the cinnamon stick and bay leaves.
In a medium bowl, make the dressing: whisk together the olive oil, lemon zest and juice, minced garlic, cumin, 1/2 tsp of salt, and a few grinds of pepper (you can do this while the lentils are cooking). Taste and adjust seasoning. Add the warm lentils to the dressing, toss to combine, and refrigerate for 20 minutes.
Take the lentils out of the refrigerator and stir in the red pepper, cucumber (or zucchini), olives, mint, and parsley. Taste and adjust seasoning. Sprinkle with crumbled feta. This salad is even better the next day.
pruneandpear 