Firepower: Resilience
Firepower: Resilience
Phil Connor
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Three years ago, I was in southern Minnesota on a typical fall day. I had just left the job site of a large food manufacturer. I had a conference call and needed a spot to pull my car over, so I found a rest stop along the highway. My wife joined the line, and we waited for the surgeon to call in. Dr. Clarke was no-nonsense and got to the point. “You have cancer,” she said. “In fact, it’s serious cancer, a sacral chordoma,” she said, “and it will require surgery.” Pretty invasive surgery, as it turned out—a 10-inch incision that started just below my tailbone and went straight up my back. The doctor also said I would be out of work for at least three months. (Author’s note: I heard “two weeks, tops.”) I hung up the phone, and with a couple of hours drive back home, I got back on the road. I didn’t turn on the radio; I just drove and thought.
Over the next 18 to 24 months, there would be the initial surgery, significant physical therapy, a nearly fatal septic blood infection, and two additional surgeries. How did I manage to stay positive, return to work with energy, and begin the long road to rebuilding my atrophied body? I developed resilience. I leveraged mind, body, and spirit, but I also connected with some key people and learned how to adapt. Let’s explore some of my experience and perhaps you can find some nuggets that can help you overcome challenges too.
Mental Strategies
First, I embraced a positive mindset. My six-centimeter tumor was found by accident. I was experiencing no symptoms or ill effects as a result of this tumor . . . yet. I knew if I told people I had “cancer,” most would freak out. It was my “alien hitchhiker,” not a cancerous tumor. Saying it made me smile, and it often did the same thing for those I was talking to. For me, there didn’t seem to be anything to gain by focusing on all the doom and gloom that could or might happen. I focused on what I knew I could control. I was going to be operated on by one of the best surgeons in the country at one of the best hospitals in the world (Mayo Clinic).
For me, there didn’t seem to be anything to gain by focusing on all the doom and gloom that could or might happen. I focused on what I knew I could control.
My wife was the one who suggested I journal, and I’m so glad that I listened to her. (Really, my life is always better when I journal.) My recovery journey was full of ups and downs, and I logged them all. Some days I could not focus because of my meds or just the overwhelming trauma that my body had been through. I noted my experiences, emotions, and what I was able (and unable) to do. Journaling grounded me and gave me a frame of reference. When I started to think depressing thoughts, I thumbed back through the pages and saw the struggles I had managed to overcome just one or two weeks earlier. I was making progress. It was slow—but it was forward progress. My surgeon warned me not to compare myself to the day before surgery but to the day after surgery. This was so valuable.
Physical Well-Being
I realized that I needed to prepare my body. I developed a rigorous training program to get in the best shape of my life. Each of the six weeks leading up to my surgery, the intensity and volume of reps increased. Push-ups, sit-ups, and body weight exercises were hard, but I wanted to go into battle as prepared as possible. The week before my surgery, I did three sets of 50 sit-ups and 50 burpees daily. Before this, I had not done 150 burpees in my life, and now I was doing them in one day. They weren’t pretty, but I did them all. My exercise post-op would be minimal, so this was the time. The day before surgery, I was possibly the fittest I had ever been; the day after surgery, I could not bend over or bathe myself.
After surgery, my motion was limited, so I reduced my caloric intake and focused on healthy, natural, and unprocessed foods. I hydrated regularly. My body would be at war as it healed from the inside out, and I needed to equip it for that battle. I also made time for restful sleep.
I continued to set goals for my recovery. Often, I would fall short of the target. Whether it was to dress myself or pick up my socks off the floor, the goals started small. Eventually, it was to row 20 minutes every day, but that was many months down the road. I realized that setting achievable targets was the most important aspect of my goal setting. The slight, small wins built on each other each week and each month.
I realized that setting achievable targets was the most important aspect of my goal setting. The slight, small wins built on each other each week and each month.
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Social Connection
Being bedridden and isolated can lead to depression and negative thoughts, so I made a point of reconnecting with my family. My daughter would join me for crossword puzzles; my wife and I would watch a program together on the television. I would schedule phone time with friends and relatives. Out of necessity, I had scaled back work, community networking, and even the men’s group at my church. But there were other ways I could connect. I wrote letters to some and sketched drawings for others. I did not text but called people to talk and discuss a variety of topics. This was incredibly helpful during my recovery.
When my mind could focus, I did word-finds, crossword puzzles, and other mental exercises. If my body was limited, I was not going to allow my mind to degrade. I’m not a fan of watching television, but I started watching every documentary I could find streaming or on YouTube. My family now cringes and releases audible moans when they hear these words come out of my mouth: “Hey, I saw a documentary about that.” That reaction alone makes me smile and lifts my spirit. I also prayed regularly. I’m not sure why I have been blessed with a great family, a fantastic community, and a fulfilling job. I know there is someone in the world every night on bended knee praying for the life I lead. I am grateful to God for these blessings. After all this, I am more comfortable saying that fact to people.
It’s been three years since my surgery, and I’m improving every week. My ability to adapt, give myself grace, and continue to push forward enabled me to be resilient. I am not yet as I was before the surgery, but that’s okay. I’m on my way.
I am not yet as I was before the surgery, but that’s okay. I’m on my way.
Perhaps you also have had some challenges or obstacles that have kept you from doing what you expected of yourself. Hopefully, some of the activities I recapped above might help you think of ways to improve your resilience and adapt to the new normal you are experiencing. Thanks for reading—and have a prosperous month ahead!
Phil Connor
Phil is always working with his team at Ignition Labratory to find new ways to spread the fire. If you found Phil's column impactful, or if you'd like to have him speak at an upcoming event, contact him at phil.connor@live.com.
