When I was asked to write a reflection for this Lenten series, I agreed, humbly and without hesitation.

When Jeff Marrs sent me the readings for Good Friday, I was humbled even further, and became hesitant – wondering how I could possibly be the one to have been chosen to speak to our community about the most “intense and meaningful” day of the year.

As usual, God spoke up…soft and strong, all at once…”Keep your eyes on me.”

During the last eight years, my life has been a series of Good Fridays and Easter Sundays.  I have spent weeks and months at a time in the desert, yet I always, always knew that Easter was coming.

Cancer came into my life in 2004 and returned last spring, with a vengeance.  Knowing that my life will, in all likelihood, not be as long as I nor my family would like it to be has been challenging – and liberating – all at once.

Because we are no longer afraid that my cancer might one day return – it has – we have said good-bye to that fear and replaced it with the freedom to live.

We stand at the foot of the cross every day.

When you stand at the cross are you crushed or are you liberated?

Salvation waits for those of us that have the courage to open our hearts to God’s grace.

Good Friday is not the end of the story.  We have the liberating knowledge that this gloom gives way to triumphant glory.

Link your suffering with Christ’s and you too will be triumphant.

Hope Lives!

Mary Ann Wasil Nilan
Saint Thomas More Community Member, Daughter of God, Cancer Survivor

Unfortunately, I was forced to take a two-week respite after treatment #25.  I had begun suffering third degree burns as a result of this aggressive therapy that was targeting the wide swath from my spine to my throat, my chest to my back, and up and over my shoulder, all areas that had been affected at the time of my relapse a little more than ten months ago.

I resumed treatment last week, once I had healed enough to get back in the “radiation saddle!”

This past Monday was to have been my 30th treatment, my final treatment.  I even splurged on a pair of super-saucy Steve Madden sandals to wear for this special occasion…that is until my “healing team captain” called me on Sunday to tell me not to break out the champagne...just yet.

She wanted to add four more treatments.

I can do this.  Hey, I have friends who are suffering far more than I am right now and I imagine that each time I pick up my cross with a smile on my face, I am somehow helping them carry theirs, as well.  I know that when people tell me they are praying for me, when they call to let me know that they are thinking of me, I feel it.  And so I set my intention each day to do the same for my kindred brethren and “bra-thren.”

So when I arrived at the cancer center in my yoga clothes (and shoes) this morning for my regular 8:30am treatment, it was business as usual.  Until I hopped off the table and met with my doctor, who surprised me with the news that I had just had my last radiation treatment – sans Steve Madden!

I am blessed to have a “healing team” that treats their patients one day at a time.  I was examined every single day, my x-rays and scans were painstakingly scrutinized, and they took great care to treat me, yet not over-treat me.  And it was decided that today, March 21, 2012 was the day – that 32 treatments were enough.

My friends, lovely sisters Lucia and Giovanna, joined me in the lobby at the cancer center so I could ring the bell three times, signifying an end to treatment, and cause for celebration among patients, staff and volunteers.  It is a lovely, lovely tradition.

And then I did what I have done for all of these weeks – I walked on the beach and sat on a rocky breakwater, breathing in the warm, foggy air and praying and meditating on the health of all of those that need healing.

I picked up a trio of attached shells and brought it home, where I plunked it in a jar along with 31 other beach treasures I had gathered, one on each day of my treatment.  This will serve as a reminder of the peace I found on the beach each day during this “intense & meaningful” time.

And then I put on my headset and finished yet another Rosetta Stone French 1 lesson.  Oui!  I said I would do it, and I did…I am fit, French, and decidedly fried!

So, what’s next for me?  I’ve set my sights on the 2013 Marathon de Paris!  Restez à l’écoute (stay tuned)…

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann

PS… At the risk of being silly, I must share the following…although it was my 32nd treatment, today is the 21st – my lucky number, and coincidentally, the same number of chemotherapy treatments I just completed.  Not silly enough for you?  How about this…when I was pulling out of the cancer center this morning, I flipped on the radio and my #1-favorite-theme-song-of-my-life came on as if it was waiting for me to leave.  What song would that be?  ”Born To Run” by Bruce Springsteen, of course!

I began my 30 treatment regimen on January 25th, my son’s 18th birthday.  Eddy missed a few classes that morning to accompany me to the cancer center, making this a double-milestone for our little family.  By law, he is now an adult, and his first official act was to hold my hand and report back to his away-at-college-sisters that he had inspected the machine, met my radiation therapists, and given his approval.

(His second official act was to go straight from the cancer center to City Hall’s Registrar of Voters…smart and handsome!)

On my fifth day of treatment, I changed into my not-exactly-couture little blue hospital gown and joined another woman seated in the waiting area.  I approached her and reached out my hand, “Good Morning, I’m Mary Ann.”

She took my hand, smiling as she looked up at me, and said, “I’m Joy.”

As I took her hand with both of mine and tossed my head back, laughing, I said, “Of course you are!  You are my ‘word of the year!’  I keep telling everyone that joy is waiting for them…and here you are – waiting for me!”

We laughed and hugged and I thought, hey, there are worse things than spending the morning with Joy!

The next day I entered the waiting area, and sure enough, there was Joy…waiting for me.  She said she had a present for me, then pressed a colorful little note card into my hand, telling me it had fallen out of a book that morning and upon seeing what it said, she knew it was meant to be…meant to be mine.

It had one word printed on it in bold letters – JOY – along with the following scripture quote:

“And the Lord, He it is that doth go before thee; He will be with thee, He will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed.”
~Deuteronomy 31:8

I keep that card in my purse, and now I take joy with me…everywhere I go.

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann

When you have five minutes left, are you going to waste a single one of them being unhappy?  Not me.  

I was thrilled for the extra time this Leap Year provided us all with…1 more day, 24 more hours, 1,440 more minutes, 86,400 seconds.

And I spent 3 minutes and 59 seconds watching a lovely piece that photographers Justin & Mary Marantz, along with Jeremy White,  produced about me…it’s called  “Meet:  Mary Ann” and I hope you find 239 seconds to spare to watch it, as well.

Friends, I would like to introduce you to Justin & Mary…take a moment to read and watch…

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann

Radiation is new to me, and I am getting quite the education in this remarkable treatment that will go after those dastardly little cancer cells in my spine and in one little lymph node in my neck that just wouldn’t heed the 21 chemotherapy eviction notices they received!

Wanting to maximize the experience of these 30 treatments, Monday through Friday (weekends off!) and the “intense and meaningful” opportunity before me, I decided I would make this a “6-week-mini-at-home-retreat,” focusing on mind, body, soul…and a little culture!

I’m a yoga gal, starting at least 3 days a week on my mat with the incomparable and impossibly flexible Rodney Yee.  And so I decided, along with approval from my doctor, in an effort to increase my flexibility and stave off the possible side effects of radiation – frozen shoulder, dead arm, nerve damage (oysh!) – I would return to daily practice, rising with the sun and finding my “center” each morning before heading to the cancer ”center” to get zapped.

But, what else could I do to make this intense time more meaningful?

I will go immediately from the Fr. Michael McGivney Center for Cancer Care in New Haven, Connecticut to the beach…and rain or shine, snow or sleet, I will gulp sea air into the lungs that chemotherapy booted the cancer out of during these last 6 months.  I will make the 2-mile loop on the glorious Silver Sands Boardwalk in Milford, Connecticut…through golden seagrass, over icy streams, and along the lapping shore that I am blessed to call home.  I will be fit, intentional, and prayerful with each step that I take.

And then I will go home to a banquet – oatmeal, poached eggs, fresh fruit, and of course, my beloved Starbucks French Roast!

While I eat, I will flip open my laptop and immerse myself for 30 minutes into my “secret desire”…Rosetta Stone French 1!

Yes, friends, I have decided to make this 6 weeks of radiation as productive as possible…and I have every intention of being flexible, fit, and French, while I am, you guessed it…fried.

I want my cancer and this really significant daily treatment to be the smallest part of my day, the smallest part of what poet Mary Oliver refers to as, my “wild and precious life.”

And I want to have fun doing it!

1 down…29 to go!

Vit L’espoir!  (That’s “Hope Lives!” in French…just a taste, mes amis, just a taste!)
Mary Ann

His advice was to enjoy today, savor every moment, the sweet and the sour, the good and the bad, the yin and the yang.

You might find it “curious” that the year that brought me an incurable stage 4 metastatic recurrence of my breast cancer could be one of the most wonderful years of my life.

Yeah, I thought you might.

How is that possible…how can I look back on what most people would deem the “worst year ever” and not just be at peace with it, but actually be happy?

I choose joy.

Every day I wake up and I choose to be happy, just like I choose what pair of shoes I’m going to wear.

In the midst of the most frightening days of my life, I make a conscience decision NOT to give more energy to fear than I do to joy.

It does not mean I am not frightened.  Or sad.  Or nervous.  Or panicky.  Or mortal.

I feel all of those things…and then I make a choice not to be owned by those feelings.

You see, knowing that my life will probably not be as long as I would like it to be has given me the freedom to really live.

And so, I choose to live and love in the moment…after all, these are the moments that we will be looking back on tomorrow and wishing we had more of.

It has been an “intense and meaningful” year for me and for my children, and we don’t know what 2012 will bring.  When we rang in 2011, we never dreamed what was in store for us.  Which is why it is important to choose joy every day – not just on the 1^st day of the year, but on the 81^st, the 229^th and the 347^th days, as well.

My resolution for the coming year is to continue to remind you that joy is waiting for you…even in your darkest moment…especially in your darkest moment.

Blessings for Joyous Todays in the New Year!

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann

My friend and soul-sister, Mary Ann Wasil Nilan, reminds me every day, “There’s life right in the middle of cancer.”

And to share that life with someone you love whose health has been challenged, whose illness might even be terminal, is among the most intimate and sacred invitations one person can give another.

So make it count.  Begin with mindfulness.  Be present, fully.  This is the first great gift your loved one is offering you:  the chance to be aware, attentive and appreciative of all that matters most about our wild, tumultuous, exuberant and heart rendering human experience.  Once invited, enter into the fears, victories, suffering and nobility of your cherished friend’s illness.  Do not let the paradox of the privilege diminish the truth of the privilege.  Don’t procrastinate.  Be authentic and vulnerable.  Don’t let your own fear of inadequacy as a care giver delay or prevent you from being present.  Your time, focused and loving, is the primary gift you can extend.  Take cues from your friend.  Listen.  Allow for emotional consonance.  Don’t talk her out of her sadness in any given moment.  Don’t dampen her joy.  Don’t attempt to distract her from what she is experiencing unless she asks that of you as a momentary respite from the cascade of thoughts and feelings swirling within her.  Be patient.  Be loving.  Be grateful.  Have lots of coffee, or chocolate, or tissues, or embarrassingly humorous stories or pink gerbera daisies or heartfelt prayer at your disposal at any given time.  Be her advocate.

You are on holy ground, bearing witness to the intimacy she has extended to you to accompany her through her health challenge.  Whatever may come, there is life right in the middle of illness.  Honor that life, share that life, celebrate that life, with your full presence.  And then you will know that healing, like grace, comes in many different, often miraculous ways and is extended to care giver and receiver alike.

“Thank you” to my soul-sister, Kerry Alys Robinson, my first guest-blogger, and cherished co-captain of my “healing team.”  In addition to her “ministry of presence,” Kerry is the Executive Director at the National Leadership Roundtable on Church Management in Washington, DC, and author of the brand new blog, “Love in Ordinary Time.”

I spent much of this holy day reflecting and walking on the beach…in solitude, in silence, in prayer, and in thanksgiving for the news that was delivered to me yesterday by my oncologist.

“Everything’s great!”

Those were the words that my superhero doc mouthed as she burst through the doors of the cancer center yesterday morning, the most “intense and meaningful” day of my life.  Her silent words were accompanied by two thumbs up – and in that instant, I knew my life was just beginning, not ending.

Over the last 7 months, my body has responded exactly the way Dr. Silber wanted it to – 21 treatments of chemotherapy and the miracle that we in the breast cancer world know as “Herceptin” – and we have now reached a place of stability, where we can actually manage the cancer that will likely be with me for the rest of my life.

You might be wondering, “how can you still have cancer and consider this to be great news?!”

Well, as they say in the Relationship Status world of Facebook…it’s complicated.

You see, the cancer I have is now referred to as residual cancer/disease.  My doctor has decided to discontinue chemotherapy, since she believes it has done its job well and what little cancer I have left in my lymph nodes and spine, she is certain can be managed with Herceptin treatments every 3 weeks for the rest of my life.  I’ll take it!  She will likely throw in a little radiation, for good measure, after the start of the new year, just to see if we can encourage even a few more cancer cells to take a hike.

My doctor has been treating a patient with residual breast cancer for 16 years.  Yes, you read that correctly.  Believe it or not, as long as cancer stays “asleep,” and doesn’t grow, you can actually live a very long and very healthy life.  Are you familiar with the Crazy Sexy Cancer phenom, Kris Carr?  This hot ticket has been living – and I do mean LIVING – with stage 4 cancer since 2003.  Rare and incurable, she manages her cancer and keeps it “asleep” with healthy living…mind, body and spirit.  She still has cancer, but it does not have her.

As always, my healing teammates, Bibi and my soul sister Kerry, were by my side yesterday – armed with hot coffee, cute shoes, and very big shoulders.  Lots of tears, lots of laughter, lots of plans for the future.

My kids…well, they were all in school, waiting anxiously to hear from me, and nothing made me happier than to tell them exactly what Dr. Silber told me…

“It couldn’t be better news!”

In this season of miracles, it is not lost on me how many people do not receive the news they hope for, and how many suffer through treatments that break their spirit in addition to their bodies…please, please keep those people and their families in your prayers this Christmas.

I will keep YOU in mine.

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann

I’ve handled “all of the above” the same way in which I just handled “all of the below…”

I just got home from having my 21^st chemotherapy treatment (honestly, even I find it difficult to say that and not shake my head in disbelief) and have decided that my most pressing decision this afternoon will be whether to spend the rest of this day laying on the couch, or in my bed….the bed won – it’s where I am writing to you from this very moment.

This week was a comedy of scheduling errors that would have broken a girl of lesser gumption.

When my sister, Diane, aka Bibi, and I showed up at Yale Medical Center yesterday for my echocardiogram, (to monitor the damage that the lifesaving chemotherapy is doing on my ticker, patched together in 2004 from the stroke I had during my 4^th chemo treatment during round one of my breast cancer…blah, blah, blah…) we found out we were given the wrong day for the appointment; my ECHO is really this Friday morning.

Augh.

This morning Bibi and I arrived at Fr. Michael McGivney Center for Cancer Care at Saint Raphael Hospital for chemo #21 and were told that the PET scan I was supposed to have this afternoon (which will give us definitive answers on whether or not the chemo is working) needed to be rescheduled to this Friday afternoon.

Now, I do a pretty good job of holding it all together (smoke and mirrors, baby) but I have to say, there is always at least an undercurrent of stress for me that begins the day before any one of the endless tests I face in my dance with cancer.

I have to force myself to say good night to Jimmy Fallon and actually get into bed.  And in the morning, after at least two giant mugs of home-brewed Starbucks French Roast coffee (‘strong and naked,’ aka ‘strong and black’)  I consider and choose my clothes based on the level of “undress” I must undergo, based on the “test of the day.”

Huh??

Here’s an example…

Since it’s only my top I need to remove for the echo, a blouse is the best bet to wear that day.  No layers…easy off, easy on, zip, zap, zoom.

Since I don’t need to disrobe at all for a PET scan, I can wear a turtleneck…heck, I can even wear layers, and not have to worry about yanking things over my head and pulling out any more of the hair that has somehow managed to remain on my noggin with these chemo treatments.

Trivial, you say?  Hell, yeah.  Until it’s you.

We certainly cannot control everything – the rain, lost luggage, tangled Christmas tree lights, CANCER – which is why it feels good to be somewhat prepared, emotionally, physically, and yes, “garmentally.”

And so we are all set for Friday…echocardiogram in the morning at Yale, and my PET scan at Saint Raphael Hospital in the afternoon, followed by a vegetative state on my couch with the Oprah Winfrey Network lineup all evening.  Ahhhh…bliss!

I had a really funny exchange with a dear friend a couple of months ago when a procedure he was scheduled to have was postponed, unexpectedly, for one day because of a slight complication.

I commiserated with him, briefly, and then assured him that I was praying for him.

Frustrated, he responded, somewhat gruffly, “well, obviously you are not doing it correctly…what I need is some good news.”

I burst out laughing and immediately agreed to pray for him while standing on one leg with my finger on my nose.  “Let’s see how that works,” I said, and we both laughed.

A lot!

Once you give yourself over to the realization that so much of life is out of our control, and that stressing and worrying about something you have no control over serves no purpose and can actually be quite harmful to your emotional well-being, well, you might as well “stand on one leg with your finger on your nose.”

Just don’t forget to laugh when you do!

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann

For me, and for The Get In Touch Foundation, October is Breast HEALTH Awareness Month, and like I do each October, I spent the entire month on a speaking tour, spreading the word about the Get In Touch Girls’ Program & Daisy Wheels, and the importance of breast self exam.

This year, I stuck fairly close to home with my speaking engagements, having to squeeze in those darn weekly chemotherapy treatments for the breast cancer recurrence that asked me to dance this past May.  We are still dancing, (despite that selfish little hoofer occasionally stepping on my toes) and I just had my 18th chemotherapy treatment this week.  I am looking forward to Thanksgiving week when the PET scan will give us a clear picture of how my body and the cancer are both responding, and how we will proceed.  I’m ready to dance on my own…you know what I mean, jellybean?

So, you ask, how do I feel?

Honestly…I’ve never felt better…from the inside, out!

I have long, soulful conversations with my children about life and death, health and illness, the present and the future…do you have those conversations with your children or loved ones?

We cherish every single moment we have together…do you?

It didn’t take a “wellness challenge” for me to develop this relationship built on honesty and joy with my children, I’ve just become a bigger version of the “me,” I’ve always been.  Honest, joyful, faithful, faith-filled, and alive, alive, alive…I have NEVER been more alive!

I spoke with countless groups of high school girls this month, and the one question that has really stayed with me was from a young lady who asked for advice on what she could do for someone in her life that had breast cancer…how could she make a difference in their life, make them feel better in the midst of their cancer?

I told her that when you care about, or love someone that has cancer, the most important thing you could do was to let them know you are there for them.  Even if you don’t know what to say or do – tell them that – but, let them know you care.

Sometimes that small gesture is all we need to make it through the day, or even through the hour, knowing that we can count on YOU.

It is a powerful place to be, the infusion room at the cancer center, where I spend each Wednesday with some of the strongest women I have ever known in my entire life.  The newly diagnosed woman that is introduced to the group one week, and tearfully shakes her head, whispering, “I can’t do this, I just can’t do this,” will in just a few short weeks, become the woman who is the first to greet another newly diagnosed “sister” and offer her hand, telling her, “you can do this, you really can, I’ll help you, we’ll all help you.”

It is a beautiful thing to give of yourself to someone you want nothing from in return.  When their peace of mind, their comfort, or their joy is the only thing that matters to you…you are treading upon life giving and holy ground.

It’s not limited to cancer centers, my friends, find the holy ground in your life…reach out to someone in need of comfort or joy.  Share without wanting anything in return.  Bless others with all you have been blessed with.

You’ve never really lived until you do.

I’ll say it again…I have never been more alive!  Can you say the same?

Hope Lives!
Mary Ann