Make this your new job
We all have at least one job -- survival. A cancer survivor is here to tell us how.
I met my friend Loriana when she was a co-anchor at Fox 7 in Austin. Then she got AML Leukemia, got a bone marrow transplant, and breast cancer, in that order. Having to survive in the time of corona? She’s got this down by now, and she’s here to tell us now we can, too.
By Loriana Hernandez-Aldama
My heart is racing as I pace the kitchen while trying to do e-learning with my 8-year-old, Gabriel. A COVID-19 team from Penn Medicine is about to pull up and test me for the virus, and I can’t focus.
“Mom, what are you worried about?” Gabriel yells at me. “You have been through worse things! Needles and biopsies in your butt. This is nothing. You are a SURVIVOR! I will cheer you on.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly the butt but rather the hip for countless bone marrow biopsies, but Gabriel’s point stands. From afar, he witnessed my year-long battle with AML leukemia and the collateral damage that followed.
If I tested positive for the virus, I knew I was ready, because I’ve been a veteran of this war long before it ever started.
I remember the day I said goodbye to him. As I boarded a plane for Johns Hopkins, cries of “Mommy! Mommy!” echoed down the jetway. I didn’t know if I would ever see him again.
I remember the FaceTime calls as I sobbed when he asked, “How many more sleeps?” and I had no answer.
I remember being reunited with my son in the lobby of Johns Hopkin, except that so much time had passed that he walked past me like we’d never met.
I had gone from an Emmy award-winning, clean eating, green drinking yoga enthusiast and a high-profile news anchor to fighting for my life and then ultimately wanting to take my own life?
I remember coming home after winning my battle and realizing that sometimes even when you win you lose. I lost my identity. I lost my mind. My career unraveled. We were broke. I was broken. I didn’t know whether to make resumes in case I lived or memories in case I died.
I lost nearly everything,
including my DNA. Yep. You got it. My DNA. Because of the the bone marrow transplant I got from my sister, my body now contains her DNA, not mine. I’m not even me anymore. It was like the scene out of Alice in Wonderland where Alice asks, “Who in the world am I? Ah, that's the great puzzle.” That’s me. A great puzzle. Draw my blood and the results will tell you that there is “NO EVIDENCE of patient.” No evidence. No sign of me. I can assure you after surviving AML Leukemia followed by a bone marrow transplant and then ending up in a mind and body you no longer recognize, who I am is not who I was. I had to mourn the person I once was before my “new normal.” I cringe when I hear that term now.
The good news is that what we’re all going through? Been there. Done that. And I’m here for you.
I know the drill. I know isolation. I know droplet precautions. Protective yellow gowns. I know germ warfare. I know loneliness. I know PTSD. Anxiety. Depression. I know suicidal thoughts. I know loss at every level. I know separation from loved ones. I know staring death in the face. I know what it is like to beat the odds. I know how to overcome.
Here’s what I learned that you need to know: preparation matters.
On the fifth anniversary of surviving leukemia we held a “Christmas in October” tree lighting ceremony to celebrate the day five years before when doctors told me to go home and put up my Christmas tree early and take pictures with my son so he would have memories with me in case I died. Five years was a major milestone. Doctors predicted I had 25% to live to see my son turn seven. Living to this day was a huge deal.
Then came the most unexpected gift… breast cancer. The trade off, I was told, likely of the full body radiation used to save my life.
It was time for me to go to war again.
A high-risk double mastectomy for a patient without her own DNA and a history of rejecting blood transfusions earned me a special designation. My Johns Hopkins leukemia oncologist called me N1... for being his first patient to go from a liquid cancer to a solid tumor. It had to happen to someone. I drew the short straw and fought it head on. Again, I was prepared. And again cancer stole yet another piece of my identity: my breasts, the ones that once fed and nourished my son. Gone. In an instant. The losses piled up.
I survived again, but this time it happened during the COVID-19 pandemic. When the world went into a time out, so did my treatment and follow up appointments. Cancer wasn’t cancelled, but it sure felt like it. My life was once again was in limbo. My husband went from spouse to home health nurse and had to start packing my wounds left over from the surgery.
I survived. I thrived. I won. AGAIN.
Now with COVID-19 taking center stage, sure, there is an element of fear. I don’t want to go back “there” again. But as others panic, I feel a strange sense of calm. I’ve been here before, and I’m ready. My leukemia battle prepared me for this moment. I think others struggling right now can pull strength from survivors like myself. We’ve been there. Done that. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally, Spiritually…financially.
I lost a lot, but what I gained is what I want to share with all of you.
My pivot became my purpose. I discovered the biggest breaking story of my career, and I you need to share it with you.
You must prepare, because something will come. The more fit you are going into the fight of your life, the better you will get through it. I learned this through each cancer battle, and we are learning this with COVID-19, too.
I call this ArmoringUp for LIFE.
We all need to ArmorUp, not just physically but emotionally and mentally, because now we are all in the cancer ward. No one is immune, and humanity is the marker.
How you prehabilitate and prepare will determine if you survive. You must prepare mentally for the fight, physically for the suffering, and spiritually for the strength. Many of us feel a lack of control, but you what you can control preparation: what you eat, how much you exercise, the stress and toxicity in your life, if you get medical screenings, your spiritual and financial preparation. The choice is yours.
As we all look over our shoulder fearing COVID-19, let’s not forget other illnesses are waiting in the wings and we can’t let our guards down.
Cancer isn’t cancelled, heart disease isn’t cancelled, your next illness isn’t cancelled.
The time is now to start preparing your body for illness. You have the power today to become your own hero by preparing today for whatever comes your way tomorrow. Remember, surviving is a job. It’s now my only job.
Make it yours.
[By the way, I tested negative!]
What do you think of today's email? I'd love to hear your thoughts, questions and feedback. I might even put ‘em in the newsletter if I don’t steal it outright.
Enjoying this newsletter? Forward to a friend! They can sign up here. Unless of course you were forwarded this email, in which case you should…
Want a way to send gifts and support local restaurants? Goldbelly’s got you hooked up.
I’ve lost 35 pounds since March 2019 with Noom, and haven’t had to cut out any foods. Noom is an app that uses psychology, calorie counting, and measuring activity to change your behavior and the way you think about food. I’m stronger and healthier than I’ve been in years. Click on the blue box to get 20% off.
If this newsletter is of some value to you, consider donating. Honestly, I’m not doing this for the money. I’m writing this newsletter for myself, and for you. And a lot of you are contributing with letters and by suggesting articles for me to post. But some of you have asked for a way to donate money, so I’m posting my Venmo and PayPal information here. I promise to waste every cent you give me on having fun, because writing this newsletter for you is some of the most fun I’ve had. Venmo me at @Jason-Stanford-1, or use this PayPal link.