By Shayna Kaufmann in San Diego
Almost one year ago to the day, an oncologist looked me in the eye and said, “You have about a year to live.” I looked right back at him and told him that he was wrong.
My response wasn’t denial. It was a declaration that I would meet whatever lay ahead with every ounce of courage, wisdom, and faith I could muster. And I did. And then something remarkable happened. I went into remission and lived. And I mean really lived, in some ways more deeply and presently than I ever have.
It was miraculous!
And now, on the anniversary of my first chemotherapy infusion, I’ll be back in the chair today as my cancer has returned following five beautiful months of remission.
As they say in Buddhism, Anicca; Everything is impermanent.
Am I bummed? Big time. I feel like I won the Super Bowl, celebrated with my team for five glorious months, and then had a referee overturn the final call and tell me we have to go back into overtime. Shit.
Am I shocked? Not really. From the very beginning, I was told that Stage-IV cancer is considered manageable but not curable. (Though I still reject the absoluteness of that statement. I know firsthand that anything is possible.) And truthfully, before the scans and biopsies confirmed the reoccurrence, I knew it was back.
But here’s what is also true. This recurrence doesn’t erase the miracle.
One year ago, I was looking death in the eye. Today, I’m looking life in the eye. That is huge. I continue to be profoundly grateful for this extraordinary year and crushed that treatment is resuming.
This month is also the second anniversary of the release of Embrace the Middle. When I wrote the book, I never imagined how deeply I would come to rely on its teachings as my way through.
With my initial diagnosis, embracing came surprisingly fast. Within days, I accepted the reality that I had cancer—not because I liked it, but because it was true. I did not want to waste any precious energy on resisting reality. Given the severity of the diagnosis, I needed to move fast to determine the wisest next steps and course.
But my answers didn’t come from panic. They emerged from presence, stillness, and listening as much to science as to within. That inner wisdom led me to a new medical team, an integrative treatment plan, daily meditation, prayer and visualizations, a community that carried me when I couldn’t carry myself, and a commitment to continue to choose joy whenever I could.
This time has been different. And, in a few ways, harder. Not because I don’t know what to do, but because I have a pretty good idea of what’s ahead. I know the nausea, heartburn, the fatigue, the scans, the anxious waiting, the uncertainty, and the losses that can accompany treatment. There are no guarantees.
Until a few days ago, a part of me kept thinking: “I don’t want this.”
And though I don’t and it is understandable, this mindset was not helping.
I struggled to find the determined, optimistic part of me that carried me through the first time I resisted summoning my “Let’s do this!” spirit because I didn’t want to go back there.
Then I realized what was missing. It wasn’t acceptance. It was compassion.
Acceptance is acknowledging my reality. Compassion is holding myself gently as I walk through this undesired reality. It turns out we need both.
Compassion allowed me to say,
“This is really hard.”
“Of course, I’m bummed and scared,” and
“It stinks to have to do this again.”
Compassion allowed me to shift from “I don’t want this” to “This is hard. I wish it were different. And I’m choosing this more aggressive treatment path anyway.” That small shift changed everything.
One of the greatest lessons of this past year has been realizing that embracing isn’t a destination we arrive at once and for all. It’s a practice we come back to, again and again, whenever life changes what it’s asking of us. Just when I think I’ve learned what it means to embrace, life gently invites me to deepen my understanding.
I end this column with a closing paragraph from Embrace the Middle:
“To embrace life is to be courageous. It is to walk through life as it is right now, with our eyes and hearts open, and to feel and experience the totality of it all. Though presence to lifechanging tides may not always feel good, it is real and ultimately liberating. Trying to ignore these changes and pushing away discomfort is like putting a lid on a pot of boiling water. It will eventually overflow and make a mess. Instead, our earned wisdom can direct us on our journey, and self-compassion can soften the ride.”
Two years ago, I thought Embrace the Middle was a book about navigating midlife.
Today, I realize it’s really about learning to meet life itself—with presence, compassion, and wisdom.
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Shayna Kaufmann is a clinical psychologist based in San Diego.