For those women (and men), who receive a diagnosis of breast cancer, there is nothing more panic-inducing. The brain can travel to some dark places and linger there forever without proper intervention. Enter Princess Diane von Brainisfried (aka Diane Young Uniman), an award-winning writer and breast cancer survivor who aims to help others rediscover their happy headspaces with her irreverently humor-filled new release, Bonjour, Breast Cancer — I'm Still Smiling!
Written with a deliciously humorous tone, this essential guide to beating the breast cancer blues combines von Brainisfried's own experiences and insights with research-based positive psychology strategies. Along the way, she shares wisdom from Socrates, Cherokee legends and her own Jewish great-grandmother to help those facing cancer diagnoses reclaim their happiness mojo and move from fear and despair to positivity and optimism.
From her own breast cancer diagnosis to chemo, baldness, double mastectomy, radiation —and 3-D nipple tattoos — she holds nothing back, imparting refreshing honesty (that's always dappled with humor) to encourage and empower others on their journeys. Bonjour, Breast Cancer — I'm Still Smiling! is the closest thing to having a hand to hold onto throughout any difficult experience.
I had a chance to interview her to learn more.
Why did you decide to write this book?
That’s a great question, because when I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, my brother told me I should write about my experience. I thought about it for a New York Minute, and then said to myself, you gotta be kidding me! I just wanted to get through it, move forward, and as they say in royal circles, fuhgeddaboudit. But then something interesting happened. As I faced the ongoing challenges, I was finding ways to handle them with positivity, optimism, humor, and spirituality. I knew I would forget what I was learning if I didn’t write down these epiphanies and strategies that were helping me find my way. For my own sake, I didn’t want to lose these ideas was using to combat fear, frustration and funk. After a while, I realized that the wisdom I was gaining and putting into practice was a precious gift I could share with others for finding happiness in adversity and for experiencing accelerated personal growth. I started feeling compelled—actually called—to a higher duty to share what I learned with others. So I sat down at my palace desk and started jotting down all the discoveries that helped make my daily ups and downs more up than down. Bonjour, Breast Cancer⏤I’m Still Smiling! was the result of my mission to help other cancer patients and survivors know that they could go through something traumatic like breast cancer and they didn’t have to lose their zest for life.
How can humor and wit help when facing a serious diagnosis?
Laughter is truly the best medicine. Even back in ancient Bible days people recognized the power of laughter to help heal our minds and bodies. “A merry heart doeth good like medicine, but a broken spirit drieth the bones.” Proverbs 17:22 (KJV). When you can laugh in spite of going through fear and pain, you realize that it’s still possible to live and experience joy. You’re like a deep-sea diver coming up from the deep, and the bubbles have come out of your blood. In my book I cite a number of studies which show how laughter promotes physical well-being. We’re talking big stuff, like helping the immune system, better sleep and reducing stress. You watch. Pretty soon, making someone laugh will be considered practicing medicine without a license!
There were so many times on this journey that seemed so dire, but using humor saved me from spiraling down into a mental pit. For example, I had many weeks of chemo, and one sequence was a type some patients referred to it as Red Devil Chemo. What could be funny about that? Nothing, until I thought about what was happening. The nurses came into the room and started gowning up in what were essentially hazmat suits: long gowns, gloves, masks, and booties. I thought they were preparing for surgery, not a simple infusion. I asked them why they were cloaking themselves in gear that appeared suitable for protecting them from a villainous gas attack. Meanwhile, did I have a gown on or any other protection? No. Zip. Nadda. I got nothin’. One of the nurses explained that the reason they were taking such precautions was because the chemo was so toxic, getting even the tiniest drip on their bare skin would be as catastrophic as a bad burn. It would be as if fire had touched their skin, and they would immediately have to go to the emergency room. Maybe even get a skin graft.
When I heard this, my mind was like a pinball caroming off of the walls of a pinball machine. Is that so? You mean to tell me the stuff is so toxic that it could cause a serious burn? And not only am I not protected and gowned up, but you are shoving that stuff into my veins! Well, golly gee, that doesn’t seem fair. But even though it was scary to think of it that way, it was so ironic that I thought it was downright funny. And I decided to let it give me a chuckle and chalk it up to the funny stuff that will make you cry unless you let it help you by making you laugh. Here’s the key. You have to have a new perspective. You have to see with new eyes. Eyes that that can see something in a new light. You have to put humor on your radar screen.
Even if you are someone who is positive by nature, when something like breast cancer hits, a trauma really, we question our right to humor. It happened to me. I had to talk to myself, and give myself permission to find humor, to find laughter, to poke fun of what was going on, even when I was frightened. Especially when I was frightened. In challenging times, we often feel that humor isn’t appropriate. You know what’s not appropriate? Failing to survive mentally.
What have been some of the positives of the journey?
There are so many ways that the journey has been positive, and I discuss them in Bonjour, Breast Cancer⏤I’m Still Smiling! One of my dearly departed friends, Fanny, whom I mention many times in my book, used to tell me that everything is a plus. There is always something to be learned from any situation, something good that we can make of it as we move forward in our lives. I learned so much from the breast cancer experience that has made my life richer, better, bigger, more wonderful. If any reader is going through a trauma such as breast cancer, remember this. One of the biggest positives of the journey can be finding meaning in the experience which ultimately translates into a more meaningful life. Finding meaning is a powerful “anti-sink-hole” antidote to trauma’s mental sink hole.
I found that breast was cancer was a catalyst for living a deeper level of meaning. Of course, writing a book to help others was the big Kahuna of meaning in the experience. But you don’t have to write a book to find meaning in the experience. When I realized that by handling the whole shebang with as much positivity and optimism that I could muster, the more I found ways to combat the fear and just, well, deal, I was able to be a role model for my children on handling the curve balls life throws at you. Having this opportunity to model for my children that you don’t have to fall apart when tough stuff happens was an incredibly meaningful, positive side benefit.
Another positive aspect of the journey has been getting a chance to live my eulogy instead of having it spoken in my absence after death. I’ve felt the extreme, concentrated, heart-on-the-sleeve outpouring of love and caring of family and friends that many people won’t get to feel in their lifetime. I got to have people find the courage to come up to me while I’m still alive and tell me all the things you hear at funerals! How’s that for a perk? This has taught me the beautiful lesson that we don’t have to—and we shouldn’t—wait for people to keel over and die before we tell them the good stuff we feel about them.
Here’s one more. I became more keenly aware of the need to savor the moment. Not in an “Instagram moment” kind of way, but in a real, hands on way. But know this, I am continuously learning and relearning to deeply savor the present moments. I use the word relearning because bringing my mind to the present moment requires continued practice. Even when life feels abnormal, as time goes on, there’s a normalization. That’s a good thing. But, as life normalizes for me, I don’t want to lose my impetus to focus on the present moment. I often draw on the experience of breast cancer to remind me, and re-remind me, that life is not a given. Every moment must be savored. That gut level knowledge that life is to be lived here and now, in this gift of the present moment, is a very positive thing.
Copyrighted material 2019 by Diane Young Uniman aka Princess Diane von Brainisfried. Permission granted for Bekah Jorgenson to reprint on her blog Motherhood Moment.
To learn more, please visit www.princessdianevonbrainisfried.com or connect with her on multiple social media platforms:
Facebook.com/princessdianevonb; Twitter.com/princessdianevonb; Instagram.com/princessdianevonb; Pinterest.com/princessdvonb; Youtube.com/princessdianevonb; or Linked.com/linkedin/diane-uniman-bb548635/.
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