Reclaiming energy

Shortly after Sandy was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer in May 2010, I erased the whiteboard in the kitchen, wrote "How we win" at the top, and scribbled resources we had at our disposal. Against overwhelming odds, I wanted us to remember how fortunate we were, and how many things were actually working in our favor. I got us started, and then Sandy shouted out additions ("kitties!" she yelled from the living room, as a cat kneaded her arm). When I was through, we were pleased with the list.

We continued to add to the whiteboard as we discovered new tools. The last one we added was "forest." Studies in Japan found that "forest bathing" boosted the immune system. The study results were particularly inspiring because they found that the natural killer (NK) cells that target cancer significantly increased with exposure to the forest, and that they remained elevated for at least 30 days after exposure.

Sandy on a warm day in September 2010, soaking up the forest.

We went camping and started hiking frequently. Sandy was thrilled. I hadn't been opposed to camping or hiking in the past, but hadn't made it a priority among the many tasks that filled my schedule. But since my sole priority was prolonging her life, I was happy to make time for forest bathing. Sandy cheerfully said to a friend, "I can get Brie to do anything as long as I can find a study that says it fights cancer!"

The list on the whiteboard, written so optimistically in June 2010, mocked me as Sandy was dying. I couldn't erase it, couldn't admit we'd lost and that hope was gone. Even after she died, I left it in place. Then I started adding to it again, redefining what winning meant. I wrote "time travel, change the timeline, transcend this plane," and, eventually, "Quantum physics is our friend."

Sandy's been dead almost eighteen months, and I've wondered if I'd ever be able to erase that whiteboard and use it for other things. Every time I've asked the question of myself, the answer has been quick and certain: No. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Meanwhile, I have been moving on in other ways, reclaiming energy that I'd originally spent trying to will Sandy to return. One of the things I've focused on in the past few weeks is creating a healthier kitchen, especially replacing plastic wherever possible. This morning, I was washing a few dishes and thinking about the growing list of things I'm hoping to locate at thrift stores or on sale. I thought, "I should keep a list on the whiteboard." I pictured myself jotting items there, where my list would be very visible and easy to keep in mind. And I pictured myself erasing the "How we win" list.

I was surprised, but not traumatized by the change. It's reassuring to see that what once seemed impossible becomes relatively easy as time passes and I heal. The thing I want most in the world is to have Sandy back here with me, healthy and energetic and full of ambition. But it's not a betrayal of her or of our efforts to free up the energy that's been trapped by my need to hold on to unrealistic hope. I can keep wanting Sandy, keep interacting with her, keep loving her and still move forward with life.