Skin Cancer Scars: They Don’t Have to Be Beautiful to Be Survivable

Posted on August 29, 2023 by The Orange Rhino

Scars hurt. They aren’t always beautiful. But we handle them and heal from them. “It will just be a scar. I can handle a scar.” I confidently said to my dermatologist. This wasn’t my first time having a biopsy on my face and probably won’t be my last. I’ve had basal cell skin cancer on my forehead and my lower eyelid.

And now likely dead center on my nose. I joked that I love Christmas so looking like Rudolph for a few weeks if I have a procedure to remove the skin cancer cells won’t be the end of the world. In all seriousness, as skin cancer is very serious, as my doctor and I discussed the options, I meant what I said when I told him I could handle the procedure and the scars. Yes – scars. The location of this problem area probably means they will need to take skin from my forehead to patch my nose.

So I will have two scars. There were other options but none guaranteed cancer free and given my history, I wanted, no needed, guarantee.

So I wanted the biopsy – even if it came back negative. The scar was worth the risk. Even if it meant pain (which it did.) Even if it looks not so beautiful (which it doesn’t, and which it won’t.) It is just a scar. A scar and the pain that caused it, will pass. I will not remember the pain I felt or the ugliness I saw in the mirror. Pain is temporary. It still might come and go as the scar fades, but eventually it will barely be noticeable. A scar will fade.

At first, when the scar is ever present and I can’t bear the sight, worst case, I can apply make up. I can find a way to make do for the moment.

But as time passes, it will fade and barely be noticeable. I will look in the mirror and have to search to see the marks. And one day, I will forget to search at all. A scar is part of my history. Yes, these scars remind me that I should have listened to my mother about wearing hats as a kid. They also remind me of all my fun times I had at the lake in New Hampshire growing up AND all the fun times I have had at the beach with my kids as a grown up.

And there is more. A scar inspires me. It reminds me that I can handle pain and come out the other side. It reminds me that I can look in the mirror, feel uncomfortable and build self-confidence around the notion that beauty is on the inside. It reminds me that the past is the past, we live, we learn, we do better, we move forward.

A scar reminds me to find the “orange” in the situation…the fun memories that did happen in the sun, the new opportunities to finally learn how to apply makeup, the fun chances to shop for awesome hats and sunglasses (OR to create a line of them….) Scars, physical or emotional, are a part of life. They hurt. They can be ugly. But we get through them. We heal.

Sending warmth and strength to you all today and a loving reminder to wear hats and sunglasses.

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

When a Conversation About Weight Is Really About Self-Worth

Posted on December 6, 2022 by The Orange Rhino

I hesitate to share this post because I don’t really want to get into my weight and all that but something happened recently that led to a great insight that I want to share. So as you read this realize it really isn’t about my weight 🙂 Okay, onward!

A few weeks before Thanksgiving I saw my primary doctor for my annual visit. She asked me if I had any concerns and I laughed and said, “where do I start?!” I shared my biggest one: my weight. I told her I knew that my weight was of concern given that I was well overweight and that I am pre-disposed to Type 2 Diabetes and High Blood Pressure (already borderline there).

I shared everything that I was doing and that my biggest concern was that despite doing everything “right” nothing was working. She shared my concerns and referred me to a different doctor for a more detailed workup.

The next day I found myself starting to get super frustrated and down on myself about my weight. My mind started to go down the rabbit hole of negative thinking and all the “I can’t do this anymore, I am so tired of my weight” but then I somehow, miraculously, said to myself, “You have a plan. Do not worry. You have a plan. You have an appointment with the new doctor and you are going to figure this whole weight thing out. Just be patient.”

Immediately, and I mean immediately, I felt calm. My brain stopped in its tracks and the negative thinking subsided.

The mere statement, “I have a plan” gave me hope.
Gave me reassurance.
Gave me peace.
Gave me calm.
Gave me power.

Never has a statement or mantra worked so well for me. It was golden. I was so excited! Fast forward a week. It is the day of my appointment and I am actually excited for this appointment that is the first step in my plan to help with my weight – to help with my struggle – to help with an area where I am working so hard and getting nowhere and feeling so dejected. This appointment wasn’t about my weight anymore, it was about my well being.

The appointment was a virtual one and actually wasn’t with the doctor. It was with the intake coordinator to figure out who was the best fit in the practice. Two hours before said appointment I got a phone call, “Hi, we have an appointment at 11. I was looking at your BMI and your file and while yes you are indeed overweight (oh thank you very much for that by the way the indeed was really a nice added touch) you aren’t overweight ENOUGH and even though you are pre-disposed to Type 2 Diabetes and have the markers, you aren’t diabetic yet. You don’t qualify for help.”

Folks, I had to even stop typing right now because even writing this story, the disbelief and anger left me without words. I get it – a lot of people need help and the office needs parameters so they can help the most in needed.

But here I am, legitimately also needing help and not able to get it until things get worse. I was so shocked – and so sad and discouraged – that I could barely ask follow up questions. She did say I should follow up with my Thyroid doctor and I told her I had an appointment but not for three months.

She said I could try a nutritionist in the group and I said I don’t need help with that, I am already doing that and it isn’t working. Something in my body isn’t clicking, isn’t working. I need help, I reiterated. I basically only got an, “I’m sorry. Best of of luck.”

I needed help and I was denied it.

I had a plan and it was destroyed.

I was left feeling so incredibly discouraged. Beyond discouraged.

This was weeks ago and I have really struggled since with motivation to keep going with my current plan of eating healthy, exercising, drinking more water, getting good sleep, etc… because it feels like a moot point. It is so hard to work on something without progress, is it not?

And yet, I need to keep going with this current plan because I know the doctor in three months will ask if I did all of these things. It is so hard to follow a plan that doesn’t really feel much like a solid plan anymore.

Which brings me back to the beginning. I was so excited for my doctor’s appointment because it gave me a plan which gave me hope.

Knowing that I was taking a step in the right direction
– that I was going to have support
– that there would be actual help and tools and guidance
– that I would make progress
– that my challenge would be made easier
– all of this gave me hope and motivation.

And through all of these feelings one thing kept coming to mind. And it wasn’t my weight. It was The Orange Rhino. I don’t want you all to lose hope like I have. I don’t want you all to feel denied of help. I don’t want you all to feel discouraged. I want you all to have a plan to yell less.

So two things:
(1) Track your triggers – notice when and why and where you yell. Because when you have those pieces of information, you can create a plan, a roadmap of how to tackle those moments, those triggers and you can start having an easier time making progress at yelling less and loving more. Trigger awareness will allow you to say to yourself in a moment when you feel discouraged and want to stop trying, “Wait, I have a Plan.”

(2) Coming January (all fingers crossed that I get my sh*t together), in some shape or form, I will be doing some sort of either 30-Day Challenge or Book Club or Trigger Tracking Workshop. Something. I don’t know what. But I can help. And I want to.

So there ya go. Please don’t take away from this post “The Orange Rhino doesn’t like her weight.” Instead take away the powerful mantra, “I have a plan.” And go and start creating one today, one trigger at a time! Go and plan how to manage/respond one trigger today and you will be on your way to yelling less than you did yesterday!

xoxo, Sheila

🧡 The Orange Rhino

How Not Yelling Helped me Manage a Hospital Visit

Posted on May 11, 2015 by The Orange Rhino

Dear Orange Rhinos,

I love champagne so naturally I love the sound of a champagne bottle popping open signaling me that bubbly goodness is sips away. POP!

I love playing tennis so naturally I love the sound of a new container being open signaling me that stress relief is moments away. POP!

I love eating popcorn so naturally I love the sound of kernels cooking on the stove signaling me that buttery deliciousness is moments away. POP!

And I love jumping on trampolines, especially with my kiddos on a beautiful spring day when the sky is crystal blue and when every time you jump your eyes see nothing but splashes of spring pink, purple, yellow, white, and green.

What I do not love, rather, what I did not love two Saturdays ago was the loud sound my knee made when I landed incorrectly on a trampoline, signaling me that horrific pain, a long recovery, and probably surgery was not far away but imminent. POP!

Champagne bottles are supposed to pop. Tennis canisters are supposed to pop. Popcorn is supposed to pop. Knees? Not so much, like not at all. But that is exactly what my left knee did.

I had just finished instructing my kids how to jump and land safely. I launched myself into the air (with complete and utter confidence mind you since I did this as a gymnast when I was a kid and since I daily jump on a small exercise trampoline while working out) and then got distracted talking to my friend and didn’t pay attention to landing. The result? I landed, my knee POPPED and I dropped, immediately grabbing my knee. You know the football players who get sacked in a game and immediately drop and you wince at the same time because you can tell they are in immense pain? Yeah, that was the kind of pain I was in.

My friend ran and got my husband while her brother stayed with me and graciously let me grab his arm and squeeze it with all my might. I still wasn’t crying as I was just focused on trying to breathe and not scream so bad as to freak out Mac who was right there watching the whole thing. My husband came out and asked, “Oh babe, what happened this time?”

He had a smirk that I totally got. I mean, two falls ago I fell going down one measly stair and broke my right foot and this fall I busted my shoulder while helping Mac during his seizure. I mean, I just have a knack for hurting myself in the most silly, ridiculous manner. I smiled back a bit and squeaked out,

“No, it’s really bad. I can’t move my knee. I can’t straighten it. I don’t want to. You have to take me to the ER now.”

As soon as we got in the car, my husband ever so delicately dared to ask, “Well, was it at least your left leg?”

“Yes, thank goodness!” I said. “I have already had that thought. So at least I can drive a bit!”

We laughed and then I returned to grimacing and screaming as every few seconds a shoot pain stabbed me in the knee. Folks, did I mention how much this sucked?

Luckily for me, we live five minutes from a wonderful hospital. And luckily for me, the ER was not crowded! We went in, I got registered and then my husband headed off, as he needed to get the kids from our neighbor.

Cue: tears.

I cried because of the immense pain.

I cried because I knew walking outside in the glorious spring weather (a favorite past time of mine) was now out.

I cried because of the revelation that my newfound focus on exercising and eating healthy in order to gain weight was mostly out.

I cried because I had a strong feeling that surgery was in the future and I have feared ¬–and successfully avoided¬–surgery my entire life.

I cried because I knew from last year’s broken foot what having an injured leg meant: relying heavily on others…again, feeling stuck at home…again, feeling helpless…again.

And I cried because I have needed to cry about all sorts of things for months and I have been holding it together for some asinine reason.

The tears, well, they just kept a coming and coming as I sat in the waiting room and then as I laid down on the stretcher in the pediatrics hallway (apparently the ER registration was empty because the actual ER had already filled up with all the waiting patients!) Side note: of all the places I had to be put, I had to end up in the Pediatrics section where I so often take Mac. And yes, that made a lot of tears fall as I cried about being grateful I was there for me, and not him.

The ER doctor FINALLY came over and took one look at me and said, “Let’s get a quick overview and then get you some pain medications it is clear you need some.”

“Uh huh,” I sniffed.

And then when we he finally said, “Okay, you need an x-ray but first, I want to give you your pain medication because moving your leg for the x-ray will hurt. Do you want oral meds or via a shot which will work faster?”

I hate shots. But I didn’t hesitate,
“Shot please. Now.”

Notice the frozen peas! My boys were psyched I took that night’s veggies with me to the hospital. LOL!

And the tears started again because the pain was just growing as the swelling grew and grew. And the tears started because I have actually never had such a severe injury and it was all-new to me and I just wanted my mommy and my hubby. I didn’t want to be alone – but also didn’t want to bother anyone because in a screwed up manner, I guess I wanted to cry in peace, you know? Don’t ask 😉

And the tears didn’t stop until, well the Monday after really, and well to be honest, they still sneak in every day. I left the hospital with a knee brace and strict instructions to get to an orthopedic surgeon on Monday. I slept all day Sunday…literally. Pain is exhausting it turns out ☺ At last Monday came and after getting a late afternoon STAT MRI done (the doctor took one look at my knee and my face and said, “I am certain you have a torn ACL), I cuddled into bed with all my boys and put a movie on so we could rest and they could hopefully just fall asleep nice and easy for me.

The doctor called within ten minutes of everyone finally settling down (of course!) and told me what I feared,

“Well, you have a torn ACL, a torn meniscus, and a torn something-or-other ligament. Given the extent of your tears and your age, I strongly suggest surgery.”

And what do you think happened next? Well after I got off the phone? Yep, more tears.

Torn ACL.
Surgery.

I am an athlete of sorts and have always feared “the torn ACL” and the recovery. I have also feared surgery since I was a kiddo and increasingly feared it since having to put my kids under anesthesia numerous times for important MRI’s. And yet here I was, being told I did one and need the other. Blech.

I have until May 22nd to get over the surgery fear for after getting several opinions and weighing the options, I have decided to have the surgery. I am getting over the ACL fear – the knee is torn, not much I can do! Until then, I am doing physical therapy three times a week to strengthen my leg so I recover better. I am daily feeling grateful for my friends who have stepped up to help me with the kiddos. I am hobbling around the best that I can, sitting in my rented wheelchair outside taking in the spring as best as I can even though I can’t walk. (Side note: my new ride is a lifesaver in preparing meals and cleaning up when I am tired from crutches or “walking,”)

And I am trying my best to find both the humor and perspective in the situation. As I keep saying, “What can I say? I like to go all out. Why tear one ligament when you can tear three?”! I mean after all, I am the crazy person who committed to 365 days straight without yelling ☺ And on that note, I’ll bring this entire post back to The Orange Rhino Challenge and well, to the title of the post! In addition to finding humor now to help soothe my frustration, while on the stretcher in the hospital, between tears, I was trying to find perspective to calm me down. I was thinking how grateful I was that I had access to good care. I was thinking how glad I was that my husband was home. I was thinking that hey, at least it is my left leg. And yes, I did think, well at least I got a pedicure done recently. Ha!

Do you know why it was instinctual to find humor and perspective in the face of stress and frustration? Because I learned to do so on my journey to Yell Less and Love More! Both actions are now habits that I apply to so many tough moments in my life making me that much more grateful for The Orange Rhino Challenge!

Lets all keep moving forward, one step, or one hobble at a time!
All my best,
The Orange Rhino