this lucid moment

there's a place

2010-01-12T13:16:00.001-08:00

With the use of Facebook, I have come in touch with people from my distant past. Although there are some that I don't really want to renew contact with, I have observed a fact about my cancer diagnosis that I didn't really appreciate before now. Having known quite a few people, if you count all the 45 years that I've lived, reestablishing contact with those from 25+ years ago, has made me realize that I really am the unlucky one. Among all those I've known, I am mostly alone in having been given a cancer diagnose.

Why does this surprise me? Maybe it's because we are always hearing about how prevalent cancer is in our society. What about the 1 in 9 statistic? Certainly I have met a lot more than nine people in my life. Yet, I can't say that even 1% of them have acquired cancer.

I'm often in communication with other cancer patients, as a volunteer or even as patient myself. I suppose when I'm around others like me, I tend to think there are a lot of us out in the world. But now I'm seeing that is not true. We are 1 in 100, or 1 in 200, or 1 in 500 among our family and friends. I suppose this is good news for those who have not been afflicted. And it kind of explains why people clam up, or even change the subject when I start to tell them about my cancer journey. How uncomfortable they become.

Most the people I know seem to be pretty much the same as when they were younger. They have the same habits, and mostly the same interests. They didn't really change all that much, except that they look older. But when I think about all the changes I've been through in the last several years, I'm afraid others may not feel they are in contact with the person they used to know.

So I do what to know – why me? I know it may be a little late for this question, but I still want to know; of all these people – how did I become the one? Although my mother-in-law and cousin have been diagnosed too, my cancer was far more serious than either of them. They have been long over their treatment but I will never be done. I am forced to accept my life of continual monitoring, treatment and a limited lifespan. I know I am only a step away from this worldly life; I can feel it, and part of me actually welcomes it.

As a hospice volunteer, there is an unmistakable place where those who are dying drift towards. It's like an in-between state; sort of between here and "there". I have become very fond of the "there" place. To be able to walk up to the threshold, with my hospice patient holding my hand, is the greatest honor ever.

it's never too late

2009-11-16T10:09:00.000-08:00

I planned a career, and plan events, like my wedding. I planned to buy a house someday, and drive a nice car. I even planned to start a family and live somewhere nice with them.

But I didn't plan to have cancer. That was not in my plans.

So what happens to all the other plans when I'm stuck in treatment for 2 years and I am so sick I can't leave my house, or take my kids to the movies. Even now that I'm recovered, my prognosis still hangs over me and sometimes keeps me from pursuing some of those "plans", especially now that they don't seem so important anymore.

I know I'm here for a limited time, maybe that's the trouble. I want to make the most of it. I am not willing to waste time in crappy job or around crabby people.

I find myself wanting to be around people that are on their last leg, other people that aren't making any plans either. I want them to know that I also know; I'm here, I care, I feel.

And in the end, it doesn't matter what sort of career I have, or the which neighborhood I live in. My legacy, like all of us, will be who I am to those around me.

A Promise

2009-06-27T16:01:00.000-07:00

Entering the room was like stepping into another threshold. It is startling to see her, completely alone, bent over with an oxygen mask, loud gurgling sounds coming from her gasping breath. I immediately notice how young she seems, compared to the other patients. Her hair is dark, not gray like the others I’ve visited, her is face smooth, barely showing the effects of someone approaching 60 years of age.

Lung cancer is what put her in this facility that normally houses seniors 15 to 20 years older. Having read that 90% of lung cancer patients smoked, I assume she is a smoker. Nevertheless, no one deserves to suffer from cancer.

The loud gurgling takes some adjustment to accept. If I don’t check myself, it can have make me very uncomfortable, even sickened. I walk over to her bedside and touch her hand, announcing who I am and how long I would be visiting. I stroke her hair; it’s so soft and beautiful. She may just as well be in her 30’s rather than late 50’s, it is all the same.

Second to her age, the other striking observance is all the tiny scars on both her arms. None of the nurses know for sure, but it is hard to dismiss it as anything but a desperate response to her declining condition, a form of self abuse. This made me especially sad, I didn’t want to stop touching and praying for her.

There are photos of her on the board across the room. They show her as a round, jolly looking woman. In two of the photos, as she is being hugged by characters from Disneyworld, she has a huge smile. The rest of the board is crowded with photos of her teenage grandchildren and a recent high school graduation announcement. A yellow note pad documents visits from the hospice nurse and others, including her sister who is the only one to see her regularly in these last few days.

A short time after arriving, I notice mucus building up in her mask. I call the nurse’s attention to it. They clean it out, suction her throat, then adjust her position. The gurgling doesn’t improve but the mucus no longer fills up her mask. I can hear her moan until she is given some meds, then the moans faded but her struggle to breathe continues. I have an impulse to call everyone I know and beg them not to smoke, but no one will believe it will happen to them.

I settle into my newspaper, and then my book. I forget where I am and what I am doing for a little while. The room is cold from the low set air conditioner. When I step out to get a hot cup of coffee, I re-enter the world of bustling nurses and seniors chatting in the hallways. I wonder if anyone knows there is a woman dying in here, but It seems best left unnoticed. It too easy to enter and exit her room, walking between two worlds: one bright, busy, alive, and full of people; the other dimly lit by daylight leaking in from the closed blinds, accompanied by a life and death struggle, but still serene and compelling to me.

Her illness must have taken hold quickly, as it does with lung cancer. The older patients I’ve been with don’t want to die, but they are more resigned to the reality. Those under 65 don’t know how to stop living, or why they should have to prematurely end their life. All I ever want for these patients is for them to let go, not resist the process. Everyone else seems to know they are not going to win the battle but I don’t always know if the patients understand that.

I am not sure what makes me want to look into the face of those who are dying. I do know it is something I feel called to do, a compelling desire, and an oddly comfortable one too. I am not certain if I am on some kind of personal mission to make sure no one dies alone, or if am I trying to find something out about myself?

I do know as I’m staring right down the barrel of death when I look into their eyes I’m not afraid. Maybe it’s because I know the promise of Jesus calls me so I may escort those in transition to His outstretched arms. It is my faith that brought me here in this room, and my belief that accepts who He is and what He does. ©

My Birthday Wishes

2009-06-23T11:44:00.000-07:00

growolderwithhusband kidstoadults withfamilies grandchildren travelingwithhusband staywell 25yearsormore closertoGod followingJesusmore servethealoneandneglected mymom whattosaytoothercancerpatients loveunconditionally bepeaceful promiseofJesus betotallycontent feelblessed bebestparent setagoodexample familyknowJesus believeHetakescareofmeandthem Heoffersgiftsbeyondmyimagination

for a moment, i stopped wanting to be somebody

2009-06-16T22:48:00.000-07:00

It had to happen sooner or later. I knew I’d make a mistake at some point. This was a big enough mess up to be noticeable. It was all because I didn’t go to bed early enough. I just couldn’t stay focused and retain the liturgical reading well, despite having practiced a bit the day before and that morning.

Funny thing though, I’m actually happy I screwed up. I mean, yea, I’m sort of embarrassed and wished it didn’t happen, but it’s also a relief too. I was especially glad right afterwards, like I was thanking God and wanted to smile.

While I was wondering how many people noticed, and what the may have thought, I felt like I was finally removed from the pride of being a lector. Now I really can’t take credit when people say I read so well. My record has been marked. Only the Lord can deliver these readings through me, as long as I don’t get in the way. Since I made a bad enough mistake, my ego has been beat down. Finally there is more room for the Lord to work in me, once again.

We have to be pushed to our limit, and beyond, before we can grow in spirit. My idea of what I am capable of is so much less then what God sees in me.

While I was watching the Preparation of Gifts, basking in the joy of my error, I wondered why some people get cancer, and why some survive and some don’t. I know of my own lack of trust in my recovery.

Then I heard an inspired thought, as if to suggest some don’t recover because they don’t change their ways. Is that why I’m still alive? I have definitely changed my ways, quite dramatically and unquestionably. So much that I at times feel as if I betrayed those that have known me for a long time since I am not really the same person. It’s as if I left them, and not just them, but my old self. And I haven’t even completed the process; I’m still leaving myself, a little more every day. ©

Gilligan - An Island of Faith

2009-06-13T14:24:00.000-07:00

Baby boomers the world over, are thoroughly familiar with the television comedy from the 60’s. Amusing as it seemed, beneath the absurdity, the popular show may have had more to offer than just a few good laughs.

The time was right for a message. Many films and television shows from the era offered more than entertainment; they boldly reflected the revolutionary social and political ideas then emerging in our culture. Supposing the producers of the show actuall had some deeper, underlying message to convey? Let’s take a closer look at what’s really going on …here on Gilligan’s Island.

First, we look at the premise of the show; we find a small group of people shipwrecked on a deserted island together, spending every waking moment trying to devise a mode of escape. Among them ranges every American stereotype from the excessively wealthy Mr. Howell, to the everyday guy like the Skipper. We have more than a fair chance to pick a favorite character to identify with, or even just admire. Only one person seems to have the least to offer, although by far most endearing and that is Gilligan himself.

Second, we note the composure of Gilligan, especially in the face of almost hopeless disaster. Gilligan seems pretty much okay with being stuck in this remote paradise, away from all the worldly means that we feel we must have to live properly.

When we examine the character of Gilligan, we see someone who is has no special quality to offer the mix, and at times causes more trouble than not. Yet, it is Gilligan that seems the most content, feeling right at home on the deserted island, happy to sleep in his hammock, and eat bananas and coconuts all day. He is neither lazy nor industrious, and he is always willing to lend a helping hand to the effort of being rescued. Gilligan’s good nature makes him the hub of the group; everyone loves him and although they don’t seem to take him seriously, they all relate to each other, mostly through him.

Third, despite the diverse skills of the castaways, we quickly see their helplessness. It doesn’t take long to realize that their rescue cannot be bought with the extreme wealth of Mr. Howell and Lovey, or figured out by the keen mind of the professor, or won by the beauty of Ginger, or charmed through the innocence of Mary Anne, or even earned by the expertise of the Skipper. It’s only Gilligan who seems to accept the circumstance and the possibility of never being found. He is unusually comfortable on the island. It may even be that were it not for the balance offered by Gilligan, the others may very well have not been able to cope with the circumstances.

It is never made known to us if Gilligan is the only one aware that all their money, intellect, beauty, knowledge, and sweetness are rendered useless on the island, just as they are in the God’s kingdom. Not unlike our worldly life, the efforts of castaways towards their want of freedom, do nothing to further their cause and only provokes constant struggle and frustration. If they would observe the guru of peace, Gilligan, who has found the setting most livable, they may abandon their desires to rejoin the rat race, and all its frustrations, in favor of the abundance of food, tranquility and beauty that they enjoy daily on the island for what turns out to be countless years. Gilligan’s lack of ego has allowed him faith beyond his own means; trust that he has enough food and shelter provided from the island, and love for his friends despite their discontent, none of which can be acquired through human will alone.

If we ponder the scenario of the castaways finally being rescued, we wonder how they would be able to re-adapt to life in the world again. I can only imagine they would become depressed and feel empty after a short time back, soon longing for the time they spent on the island. It’s harder still to see Gilligan wanting to leave the island, even if given a choice. The bubbling idiot who can’t seem to do anything right, turns out to be the spiritual master who recognizes the faith, love and truth in his kingdom of paradise, for which is aptly named, Gilligan’s island. ©

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A Moment Later

2007-03-01T12:27:00.000-08:00

A Moment Past

2007-02-18T11:19:00.000-08:00

I could be a patient, I know how to do that. Afterall, I spent years in practice. Now they say I'm better, maybe not perfectly well but so much more then before. Why does this cause me so much confussion?

No longer as I was, the job of just coping with the drugs and staying alive as well as I could, I feel thrust back out into everyday life, trying to catch up to what I forgot. I'm not sure I want to be here cause I don't know what I'm supposed to do, it's just all so different, the places and the people are not the same as when I last saw them.

And me, I feel this anguish, that I have been removed from my special place which was a effortless privilelge in sickness, but now I have to make much work to keep myself close to by. So I pray that I will not be away, not for one minute, cause it's out here where I need Him the most of all.

It frightens me the way the world is so empty and hostile. I look into strange eyes and I see a gray existence lined with boredom, despair, and no sign of you, Lord, except for the special ones that swim around here, at least one in every place, smiling at me as if it were You reaching out through them.

Emergency Exit

2007-02-06T13:26:00.000-08:00

I cannot go back thru the same door I came in from.

Everyday Duality

2007-01-25T13:20:00.000-08:00

Cancer/free of cancer?

Sick/well?

Disabled/active?

Dying /living?

Others cannot properly understand the ordeal I just faced. They offer no compensation for recovery time. I either have cancer or I don't. This is either too hard or too easy. I'm either a disaster or a miracle.

When did I stop being seen as human?

Best Offer

2007-01-23T10:13:00.000-08:00

God is just waiting for your permission to bless you.

As a Mustard Seed

2007-01-19T12:11:00.000-08:00

PET Scan results: No detectable signs of disease! No more cancer, no more chemo, no more fear!
Believe it!
He DOES what He says He can do! He DOES what no one else can!

Nothing is Impossible

2007-01-18T11:41:00.000-08:00

I know in my heart, with absolute certainty, that God can heal me.

The question is will I let Him?

Yes, I WILL LET HIM.

1000 Thoughts

2007-01-14T16:57:00.000-08:00

What if...
the results of my PET scan came out perfect, no signs of cancer seen?
That would be mirculous.

What if...
my PET scan showed some improvement, but more treatment is needed?
That would be challenging.

What if...
my PET scan showed little to no improvement, but a stable condition?
That would be disappointing.

What if...
my PET scan came out as bad as can be, the cancer has spread into my lungs, or my liver?
That would be devasting.

Mirculous, challenging, disappointing, devastating translate into
happy, frustrating, sad, and angry moment to moment feelings.

Privately I don't want to settle for any but the first one -

Only God knows where He wants me.

The Truth Hurts

2007-01-12T12:22:00.000-08:00

If I don't ask myself why this has happened to me, then I will have learned nothing from the experience.

Seeping into the Cracks

2007-01-11T14:43:00.000-08:00

I can feel the chemo has become a part of me.
Rather then pass through me, it has soaked into my bones.

For now it stays inside of me.

See Thru

2006-12-28T17:46:00.000-08:00

I thought I could manage a thin covering,

but how can I search for the cracks in others when I've been stripped down to bare grain?

Sitting in the Warmth

2006-12-23T18:45:00.000-08:00

I no longer ask why me?

You could've finished me off some years before, or certainly a few months ago, but I'm still here.

You've let me stay awhile longer. Is it to finish some thing I need to do?

I know this is where You want me, right here, right now, at this moment. Only You could've have made that decision.

How grateful am I for still being alive.

To know You this way is a miracle.

Falling Before Catching Myself

2006-12-18T12:32:00.000-08:00

I'll cry when it's over, and not a moment before.

The Religion of Chemo

2006-12-12T14:15:00.000-08:00

Resistence is believing that everything you know is true.

Surrender is accepting that you don't know a thing.

I was Wrong About Doctors

2006-12-06T09:45:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I look in the mirror and see myself desparately seaching for hope,
in myself.

My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in
weakness.

Spectacular

2006-11-28T18:28:00.000-08:00

I began to see the reality of my situation -

I'm here in body but my spirit is being called away.

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of the glory...

Neverending

2006-11-16T14:52:00.000-08:00

For a moment I hated my doctor today. I hated that he wouldn't tell me this was my last chemo dose, or even second to last. He told me he was encouraged, but he offered no words committing himself.

Maybe he was in a bad mood, maybe he was having an off day. Doesn't he know that I'm riding on his words, waiting for the one key sentence "You're done!"

How many longing eyes He must look into, those searching for the glimmer of hope that He bares.

Then I closed my eyes for a moment, and let things shift back:

This dreadful room that made no attempt to be anything but a medical establishment is unexpectedly peaceful.
The frightening drugs are not as scary with my loved one always next to me.
The needles, syringes, and IV blur into the background as my nurse waits on me. No matter how many other people she is dealing with at the same time, she always makes me feel special.
And the patients. We hardly exchange words, we know how much the other suffers. But underneath it all there is an unspoken affection that makes us acknowledge one another, if only by an exchange of smiles.

Almost as soon as I hated my doctor, I loved him again. He is given the difficult task of seeing me all the way through the treatment, even though my weary eyes always beg him to stop. He possess to the objective clarity that I completely lack. This is a man that not only really wants me to get well again, but he still believes I can.

We have an agreement Him and I, we're not going to give up on each other - no matter what.

On Hold

2006-11-11T16:29:00.000-08:00

Sound downloaded from http:/thefreesoundproject.iua.upf.edu, R09_0031 garden chimes by Monterey2000.

I Don't Smoke Anymore

2006-11-03T12:55:00.000-08:00

I'm addicted to pain.

I don't know when it started or where it came from, I just know I have this love of suffering.

I feel at home in misery. It lures and comforts me.

It used to be a pleasure/pain addition. Dropping the pleasure was easy, but the pain - that's the difficult part.

I suppose it's a lifelong habit. My negative inner voice is strong, sure, and insisting. The emotional pull is undeniable.

I can now see my endless optimistim as a partner to disappointment and discouragement.

By day I'm all good, by night I can't wait to turn off the lights and embrace the failures.

Persistent, tenacious, ugly, destructive = Pain, misery, suffering, cancer.

I am addicted to pain. It comes around everyday with an irresistible offer.

I just say I quit last week.

And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

Go Right Up to the Door

2006-11-01T15:00:00.000-08:00

Strength is not the key. I let the weakness overcome me.

Die for a day, or two or three.

I went for a walk. I can hardly find my way back.

My heart pounds surprisingly hard. No pain at all.

I see patterns when I close my eyes. Open to rock sparkles.

I'm not in control here, I'm just a passenger.

I feel tired but not from lack of rest.

I'm not afraid. He holds my hand the whole Way.

Accidental

2006-10-31T11:40:00.000-08:00

Denial. Some people like to throw that word around.

I wonder if it is true that I deny my cancer? If I don't sit around feeling sorry, or dwell on the unpleasantness, does that make me unable to confront my disease?

It's true I have no patience with the cancer warrior or "fighter" image. Being here is a struggle, not an honor. It doesn't help to complain about the horrors of treatment, and it doesn't make me feel tough cause I'm having to go through it.

Denial. Am I denying the face of my disease just by getting up everyday and trying to forget, to some extent, that I have cancer?

Call it denying the truth, if you want.

Tell me how to do it? We are not taught this thing. We are only told how to live. No one gave out instructions on how to be a cancer patient, or even how to die as one.

I can only focus on the glowing ember, or the ash of destruction.

Playing Dress Up

2006-10-23T13:16:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I pretend to be like everyone else.

I like to talk about the lastest thing my kids are doing,
or chat about a favorite recipe.

Or maybe reveal my feelings of a troubled relationship from the past,
or bore you with my perspective on politics, people or life in general.

But it would be nice to spend a little time thinking about how its almost time to get a haircut,
or go out shopping for some new clothes without worrying about getting sick from crowd exposure.

What about wondering where I'll go on a vacation far away? And to think nothing about going on a rugged 8 mile hike through the desert mountain, that was fun, as I recall?

I'd like to be as everyone else and have full use and the appeal of a normal looking left arm/hand, but sometimes I forget that it is swollen and try and use it like its not.

If I was healthy again, I could pretend to be like everyone and think I have a future before me. Then I can plan where I'd be, what I'd be doing, and who I'd be with.

But right now I'm here in the midst of treatment, in the middle of not knowing, inbetween health and disease.

Sometimes I forget that I'm here, only to be rudely reminded to put off all decisions for now -

and perfect living for the moment, regardless of where I'm presently standing.

From the Outside-In

2006-10-13T22:22:00.000-07:00

I hate chemo. I hate thinking about it, talking about it, hearing about it.

Some people want to talk about it all day, the challenges and unpleasantness. Maybe it makes them feel like some sort of warrior for having endured it?

I don't feel like a warrior; not brave or full of courage. I do what I have to do, thats all. I hate it, and am always scared of it. There is no hero like quality to facing cancer or its treatment. I am only here to get through it and past it.

My own survival depends on my abitlity to see beyond my cancer, my mortality, my situation, my dislikes, my fears, my challenges - EVERY MINUTE OF THE DAY.

Don't admire my strength, don't pity my life, don't be glad it's not happening to you, don't wish you were here, don't stand at a distance, don't invade my space, don't run away from me.

What you know about me, you don't know. What you don't know about me, you already know.

Just talk with me, my beloved friends.
And he said unto him, if they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither
will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.

Hiding Out, Looking Out

2006-09-27T16:20:00.000-07:00

Running for cover, explosions everywhere, eyes burn, stomach turns.

I'm hopping across the torrential river, carefully, the rocks are slippery.

I'll rest now in this dry spot. Recover before the shooting starts again, soon.

The enemy is lagging, losing site of me. A little more fire, a few more explosions. It can't last much longer, I'll be far out of reach.

Beautiful life.

Start from Where You Are

2006-09-14T09:55:00.000-07:00

I forget where I am sometimes.

I recall the drudgery and pain, all to easily. When it pulls me under, I remember that I can swim.

Then I look at where I'm at and what I'm doing and how far I've come. I'm stable, positive and emotionally healthy. I've changed dramatically and don't need the things I used want.

I've turly repented and turned around. I will not go back to the way things were or who I was. I've been broken down and rebuilt.

His work will never finish but He forgives me all the same.

So the last shall be first, and the first last: for many be called, but
few chosen.

The Biggest Excuse

2006-09-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

"If there is a God, then why is there so much suffering in the world?"

Without a belief in God then the world seems a chaotic, dangerous place. Subscribe to that idea and you will never want to leave your home.

To ask the question of why suffering exists is to imply a desire that stems from a place of true compassion accompanied by a strong need to resolve the human dilemma in some way.

Yet, how can you resolve the question without either resigning to an already apparent hopelessness, or else devoting your life to finding a connection to the problem of suffering?

Most people who will ask this question will never bother to move beyond their own self righteousness.

They have no genuine interest in the answer to their own question.

It is pain and suffering that cause me to believe, or else I would be forever lost.

Enter ye in at the straight gate: for wide is the gate and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat...

Not Fighting the Fight

2006-08-30T16:44:00.000-07:00

I won't respond to your anger,
I won't answer your call,
I won't fall into your fear,
I won't listen to your cry.

It is taking every bit of me not to push back.

I am not going to save you this time, cancer.

Sibling Rivalry

2006-08-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

I won't believe in this cancer, in this disease.

I won't accept the pain, the discomfort and the uncertainty as proof that the cancer has power over me.

I won't invest in the fear that its stronger then me, then God, then all else.

I won't allow this affliction to rob me of who I am, what I believe in, or crack the foundation of my faith.

I'm not falling into the darkness and despair or the hopeless visions that so pull at me.

Though the arrows come from every side, attacking in my weakest moments, my faith tethers me to the Truth and Light.

I will not drown in these shadow of lies.

What Numbers Tell You

2006-08-07T15:03:00.000-07:00

One in 8. That's how many people will get cancer.

I know more then 8 people, and none of them have cancer.

Maybe they mean if you followed 8 people, from birth to death, one of them will get it.

If I had a party with all the people I know, there would be at least 75 people, and none of them have cancer, but me.

Maybe the statistics for those my age would be different, like one in 40, one in 60, one in 100?

I think God has a special message for cancer patients, He wants us to take the time to prepare ourselves for departure, to want us to linger in the moment; the long, long space of time between now and then. He is teaching us something, as well as those around us. How deeply our life is affected, in so many individual different ways, both good and bad.

I imagine having a party to celebrate my cancer.
It seems so contrary yet not half bad idea. It could be a party to celebrate my life and those around me. Everyone would want to come. It would be like having your first birthday party.

Falling off the Fence

2006-07-29T21:51:00.000-07:00

The scales have tipped. The cancer has taken over. It has succeeded in spreading all over the bones in my body.

If the cancer is me, then I am killing myself slowly and painfully.

I can no longer handle this on my own. It is not going to go away because I change my diet, or heal painful memories, or will it away.

I am no longer thinking of full recovery, I am now in survival mode.

There is nothing I can do on my own to make it disappear. I need outside help.

To think my body is capable of producing such destruction on its own is hard to grasp. What's more difficult is trying to figure out why.

It is a short leap to fall into a desperate state of feeling out of control and full of fear. Somehow I haven't completely submerged into that murky area.

It is a fine, delicate line to not resist what is happening to me and trust I am in His hands. Only my faith keeps me a float.

Double-edge Latte

2006-07-25T20:34:00.000-07:00

My oncologist wants to kill a part of me, the cancer part.

I wonder what part of me that will kill. Will it be my thoughtful moments, or my angry rage? Will I be a better person when that bad part of me is gone?

I never thought cancer was really about cancer. I know it's more then that, it's about me.

So how can I agree to kill a part of me. There is a part of me that wants to protect myself, is that not normal? Yet here I have to agree to be poisoned, in order to protect myself?

Do I love my cancer if I sometimes want to nurture it, the cancer, which is actually me? They are my self-initiated malignant cells, after all.

Can I be sort of proud of their (my) tenacity, endurance and proliferation? I almost want to root for them.

But then why am I killing them, if they are a part of me.

They are killing me and I am killing them, which is me.

White Noise

2006-07-24T16:47:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I will go into my oncologist's office to see if the cancer has spread any where else beside my skull.

I am neither anxious to know nor dreading to hear if it did, or not.

There is some sort of neutral zone I seem to linger in, which I actully like very much. It is a special place for which I feel fortunate to experience. It's the white area, where no matter what they tell you, it's going to be okay.

There is so many steps to bad news. At times I think I have experienced the worst. Yet I alway get to the other side of it. It doesn't stay bad for long.

This is not a conscious effort, but it happens that way. All I have to do is let it go.