It’s gorgeously stormy and gray out. I can hear the pound of the Pacific, even though this tiny quaint vacation rental with its hardwood floors and stone fireplace is shut up tightly against the rain.
My husband, Gary, and I loved coming to the Oregon coast. I haven’t been back since he died, but it’s been on my brave-making list. And so, here I am.
Hubby’s hairstyle designed by chemo
Family and friends gathered in Idaho this weekend to celebrate a life well lived: Mom-in-law Ivalene, who died of complications due to pancreatic cancer.
Jack and Ivalene Johnson, 1946
Since yesterday’s Celebration of Life service, a few random thoughts have been swirling in my brain:
Self-care was something I didn’t do well in the final months of my husband’s life. Because I could do it all myself. Because I didn’t want to bother other people. Because self-care sounds rather selfish, self-centered, self-conscious.
But it’s not. Self-care is simply seeing to our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health so we can better care for others.
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Does creativity have anything to do with our health and wellbeing? In 2010, researchers analyzed more than 100 studies about the impact of creativity on our health: music, writing, dance, painting, sculpting, weaving. And everything in between.
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My friend, upon turning 40, had a mammogram. Suspicious areas showed up in both breasts, which precipitated an ultrasound, two biopsies and additional mammography. All to the tune of $4,000. Although no cancer was detected, my friend needs to return every six months for images. “High risk,” they said. “We need to watch this closely,” they said.
Here’s the catch: Her insurance pays for preventive mammography, but not diagnostic mammography. Which means the ongoing imaging will be a significant out-of-pocket expense.
Short of propping open a guitar case and strumming on the streets, what’s a person to do?
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After my husband, Gary, died of cancer, I relocated to southern California, claimed my daughter-in-law’s pink-rimmed bike as my own, and said Yes to several not-necessarily-planned-far-in-advance adventures.
Venice Beach with my pink-rimmed ride
Over the past few years, a number of people have asked about best ways to support a newly-diagnosed-with-cancer friend, neighbor, or family member. Or how to support a close friend who just learned a loved one had cancer.
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Being an obsessive list-maker, if given the assignment to sum up the things Hubby’s cancer taught us about living and dying—and if the assignment required an alphabetized list—it would look something like this (you’re going to need to work with me on a couple of these).
Photo credit: Pixabay
To some perhaps a frivolous topic, but when it comes to dealing with life’s challenges, the simple act of brewing a cup of tea and sitting in a favorite chair, whispering a prayer and silently reflecting on all the blessings that are still evident despite the challenges, and then placing some of the weight on paper—a list of things to be done but not right this minute—well, right there, half the battle won. With tea leading the charge.
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Mom-in-law Ivalene died this week from complications due to pancreatic cancer. We thought we had six to twelve months left with her. And then the call: “She’s in transition. The hospice nurse doesn’t think she’ll last through the day.”
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Copyright © 2025 Marlys Johnson
