My iPhone alarm went off at 6:45 am Sunday morning. When I hit the “stop” button, I wondered, “Why is it that the snooze button is 3x larger than the stop button?” My guess is the majority of the iPhone users prefer to snooze rather than to wake up.
Not me. Call me insane, but I set my alarm at 6:45 most Sundays. Even earlier on vacation. Since I survived brain cancer in my early 20’s, I’ve been obsessed with not wasting a minute of life.
It’s been nearly 35 years since my diagnosis. A month and a half ago, I became a patient again. This time as a result of a skiing accident that left me with a broken tibial plateau. Basically, when I slipped on sheer ice hidden under a foot and a half of fresh powder, my knee joint smashed down onto the top of my shin bone, shattering the surface. After surgery and a new set of leg hardware, I was left with an eight-inch scar down the front of my leg and told I wouldn’t walk for 12 weeks. The doctors added it would take three more months to rehab the knee joint before I could do all the things I love to do in summer.
How could I, so obsessed with not wasting time, muster the patience to heal?
Surprisingly, my first emotion wasn’t anger or sadness, but relief. Without having to do everything that normally takes up so much of my non-work life—cooking, cleaning, laundry, driving my kids around, exercising—I’d finally have time to revisit those personal projects I never got to during the lockdown: Creating those digital photo albums of our kids growing up, reading all those books friends recommended that I had bought but never opened, working my way through my movie list that only gets longer every year. Why can’t I manage to get to these things I truly enjoy when I am well?
The answer goes back to my illness.
I once challenged my cancer support group facilitator who insisted that I have all the time I need. I wrote down all the things I ‘needed’ to do every day and every week to prove to her that her position was ridiculous. Unconvinced, she said, “I see that you push yourself to accomplish many things. Try, just try, to hold on to a new belief: That you have all the time that you need. If you don’t believe me, just fake it ‘till you make it.”
It took well over a year of practicing ‘fake it ‘till you make it’ until I began to actually ‘make it.’ Just holding on to the possibility of having enough time, changed my life. I could be in conversations I was having, versus following my mind as it jumped ahead to all the other things I should be doing. I started to allow myself to be immersed in what I was doing. I created space in my life to feel in the moment, not years later.
Through this process, I realized the constant pushing for a hyper-full life because “there just isn’t enough time,” actually limits my life.
Sometimes we need a refresher on these lessons we thought we had learned. For me, becoming a patient again reminded me why the words patient and patient are homonyms. Becoming a patient patient again was my wake-up call to create the space to slow down. At least this time, my path to wellness is straightforward, not filled with angst and uncertainty and fear for what the future may or may not hold. Within this space defined by the snail’s pace of recovery, I’ve created a space for peace and re-connection to myself and others.
And for that, I am truly grateful.
Sheri Sobrato Brisson is a brain tumor survivor who discovered the importance of self-reflection during her recovery. From her personal illness experience and a dozen years supporting families and children with serious illness, her life’s philanthropic mission is to empower families and children facing serious illness. She has started and facilitated support groups for children with illness and their families for over twenty years with organizations such as the American Cancer Society, National Brain Tumor Foundation, Ronald McDonald House, and Packard Children’s Hospital. She has served as Board Member for many children’s health nonprofit organizations including American Cancer Society San Jose, UCSF/Mt. Zion Auxiliary, Creighton Health Institute, and Okizu Foundation. Brisson received her master’s degree in counseling from Santa Clara University and her undergraduate degree in human biology from Stanford University.
Read more about Sheri at https://diggingdeep.org
