A seasonal urge

I grew up in the land of eternal spring... some even called it eternal fall.

I never have experienced four strong seasonal changes... usually it was two... but it could even be argued that there was one season unless one counts "more rain" as another season.

Ecuador had that... rain and more rain, it was eternal spring, or something akin to the glorious autumn season of the southwestern US.

Yes, it is confusing, but the big seasonal denominator for me has been the presence or absence of rain.

Today was that kind of day here in my beloved American Southwest... overcast and lightly rainy. A huge high pressure system that seemed unexpected causing tension headaches and achy bones. The release when the rain managed to push past. The smell of creosote wafting in the air.

I always feel a different kind of contentment in the rain, no matter in what part of the world I am in. If there is rain, I get this feeling. It isn't particularly productive, but is a certain kind of peace or contentment. Though I do tend to write more when I can hear water droplets hitting the windows or the cadence of rain on the tin roof of my back porch. I feel the magic that my favorite authors are able to convey about this world, the kind that feeds the stories of Borges, Allende, Esquivel, and Garcia Marquez. While I do not claim that there is a Latin Exclusivity to the genre, as a daughter of its lands, I can understand the origins every so deeply.

When it rains, the world feels magical.

Rain in the magical jungle city of Tena in Ecuador

"The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months." ~ Helen Bevington 

Invincible summers and calculated acts of kindness

“My dear,
In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
I realized, through it all, that…
In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

~ Albert Camus

It was late on December 20th, 2014 and I was still recovering from my surgery.   I read an email from my friend Gail in which she asked if the Junior League of Phoenix (JLP) would be interested in hosting a movie screening. Gail works at The Arizona Partnership for Immunization.

It was this movie screening:




I watched the trailer.

I called her to talk on the phone.

I pretty much told her that I didn't know but I would find a way.  We talked about how I could manage this in my capacity as the member training committee chair and we came up with a plan. The next morning I sent out some emails to my Team Leader in the Junior League and my co-chair. Both were supportive.  Gail and I discussed venues and what options we had. We decided that my cousin, who is Lead pastor at Scottsdale First Church of the Nazarene, would be a good person to approach. So an email went to him. I received immediate replies and all were supportive. 

Here I am 2 months later. The JLP team lead I serve under, has allowed for this to become a bigger deal within the JLP.  More partnerships have developed and are included below.

Our goal is to provide one large movie screening with a panel that is targeting about 200 viewers. 

If you are local - please save the date:

Date:
Thursday, April 9th 2015

Location:
Scottsdale First Church of the Nazarene
2340 N Hayden Rd, Scottsdale, AZ 85257

Time:
 5:30 - 9:00 pm / Movie starts at approx 6:30

Tentative Agenda:
Sign in opens with a meet and greet: 5:30
Movie and topic is introduced and screened 6:30 
(movie is 80 minutes long)
Panel discussion at end of film
closing meet and greet

Community Partners:

Scottsdale First Church of the Nazarene

Junior League of Phoenix

Tapi

Arizona Oncology

AZ Department of Health Services

Genesis City

I am back - with some Calculated Acts Of Kindness (COAK)

Yes, I decided to  come back here. I figured out how to un-subcribe people and did so...

I did that because this chronicles my life for the last 10 years.. and a lot has happened.

But those ten yea

thank you deviantart

rs all had my Squink in them. And even when I did not mention him, it happened around him.

But it also feels like a new beginning and how wonderful that it coincides with the first day of Lent.

So, I am following after Kelli at AfricanKelli with a commitment to Calculated Acts of Kindness...

I will post updates on:

Flickr Pool

Instagram

Facebook

and of course HERE (and on my other site)!!!!

What a wonderful way to start

For the children's sake

Today I went to a luncheon that was started by a family that lost their son/brother to the ravages of addiction.

As I listened to the mother and sisters make impassioned pleas for support, I thought about how I would feel if I lost my son... not just to addiction, but to anything. Considering that I was close enough to that when he was a new born, I felt the mothers anguish. Then as I thought about how the young man was only in his mid twenties, I wondered how that must feel if it happened now or ten years from now, or even twenty years from now... painful is what I could answer.

Following that, I began to consider what my parents must have felt when I called to give them my news.

I started to feel a little sick to my stomach. Just in anguish.

I thought about my mothers gasp when I called her, and my fathers silence when I called him.  I noticed them, but only slightly... I was so wrapped up in my own extremely feeble attempts to try and manage the news.

To call them and share the news that "I have cancer" was hard. And to now be able to put myself on their imaginary end of the phone line was pretty horrifying...

What would I do if Squink called me with such news... not a question... the mere thought brings me stomach pain, a heavy heart, my breath stuck in my throat.

Our children are not supposed to die, they are not supposed to get seriously ill, to suffer.

Life is pretty ridiculous, and I say that because in spite of everything,  it all results in death, and we humans become so attached to each other, that the death part becomes un-natural to us in a way.

And I am not trying to be-little it, I am more trying to wrap my head around it.

People we love get sick (be it cancer, addiction, heart disease, depression, leprosy...) and they die... and we have to deal with the mortality of the ones we love... and the pressure of things when it is your children who are going through the process, well it must be intense and I don't think it ever gets any easier.

When we were asked if we wanted Squink to be given last rights, that was a tough moment. We understood that he was not a healthy baby, that he could die.... THAT was intense. Schatzy and I went home and prayed, we felt helpless and when that happens you turn those feelings over, they become outside of self.

So that is all I can say, getting that kind of news must be devastating, as devastating as it is to get and be aware of the news about yourself, but somehow I just know that no matter what his age, I would take the news from him far harder than I think I might if the news were about myself... and neither would be easy.

Revisiting 7 and then 8 - and perhaps a dash on 9 - Find the Beautiful

Revisiting 7

I suppose my last post was a bit premature, though it was true. It is amazing how something gentle can shift everything, even if it is only temporary.

After my post, I went to a meeting for an organization I belong to. I expected to get lots of hugs and inquiries about my health and my status. I was looking forward to thanking people in person for their kindness, but felt shy about the possible attention.

The hugs were nice, the kind words and gestures were appreciated. I was glad to have gone and it was not as much of a burden to my shy side as I thought it might be,

But at the end, as I was walking away.  One of the friends who was there often for me asked me how I was and I replied with my usual. I am good, lots to be thankful for, one day at a time. She grabbed my arm and said lets sit and tell me what you mean by this one day at a time thing? 

I was stunned, she had latched on the the subtle nuance of such an expression and knew that my words were far cheerier than I felt. 

So we sat down, and I tried to explain that navigating the whole thing is complex. Yes, I fully see that there is so much that is good but that there is still the tough that needs to be dealt with. Being told you have cancer is more complex that I had thought, especially given the provisions that no chemo or radiation is needed, like those somehow would allow (key word here is allow)  someone to feel like shit. Please don't think I am trying to diminish chemo or radiation and that people who have to go through that are somehow exception in some regard... because they actually are exception. What I feel like I am missing is permission to grieve this process and that my grieving is allowed to be more than just sad.  After I feebly tried to communicate these ideas to her, I just looked at the hands in my lap and said, I want to be allowed my pity party, I just don't know how.

She touched my arm and said you are allowed a pity party and I want to be invited, lets go get some wine together soon.

It was so beautiful being allowed to feel this way instead of being held to strict gratitude. My heart filled with something, I would hope it was grace. 

I am not sure she knew what I was talking about or understood what I was trying to say, but she asked and then listened... holy moly... what a gift. She asked, she allowed me to tell her something closer to the truth about how I am feeling, In a world dependent on daily platitudes ("How are you?" - "I am OK") it was mind altering to pass that realm and move in to more of the brutal truth.

It is part of the dynamic between celebrating that I don't need chemo or radiation or that my tumor was so freakishly small AND the whole truth in that it was fucking cancer and it robbed me of some things that I held dear. I am grieving.

I don't think I am headed to deterioration. I know I will be fine, but this is a part of what has happened and is happening to me. I own it. 

“Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”  ~ William Shakespeare

Then 8

After the sincere gesture of my dear friend, I felt more lighthearted yesterday. It was a busy day, work with extra duties, rush to help Squink finish his homework, a school meeting for an exchange program, and cub scouts.

I was too busy to notice much more than the heaviness of my surgery site.

A dash of 9

We all woke up early, and in good moods. I even served Squink some oatmeal and let him eat it in bed. On my way to the kitchen, I noticed how amazingly pretty my orchid plant was. 

It was beautiful. 

Squink was beautiful. 

My family was beautiful. And somehow everything else seemed less important.

Life is beautiful - 6 & 7

Yesterday was tough, it is a tough spot right now. 

In my attempt to find the beauty, I failed... I mean, I had that poem, but I really found it the day before... and the rest seemed average and even hard.

It all, life, feels sorta like that - hard. 

I feel completely helpless in some ways (some very new ways) because I am just in a state... angry, mad, desolate to name but a few and all of them in one big huge swirling mass of emotional baggage.

I have no patience for this kind of nonsense. I have too much to do.

And, people keep calling me back to earth and reminding me that my behaviour is inappropriate. Which adds to this feeling of mixed mass emotions swirling and boiling and festering. Shame, I suppose. I am better than being an angry person.

I have moments of average, and when I see my son or husband I can claim joy. But that seems so selfish, in a way, to allow my son and husband to be my bringers of joy... what a HUGE burden to place on them. Guilt, I suppose. 

I am trying to remember to breathe, to mediate, to pray... but the words that come to mind when I do this are hard, and angry, and as my family reminds me... inappropriate.

I have and see so much to be grateful for, but these crazy emotions are so difficult to manage. 

How does one throw themselves a gentle pity party?

So let me conclude by stating that I suppose that the beauty I was able to find is that (#6) I am alive and (#7) I have people who love me. There is comfort in that. But, there is a tinge of insincerity in my heart with these right now. impatience, I suppose. 

The kind of beauty I want most is the hard-to-get kind that comes from within - strength, courage, dignity.  ~ Ruby Dee  

Find the beautiful 1 - 4

1. Having my mother, brother, and nephews over for a dinner of Wiener Schnitzel.


2.  A gentle and quiet day in bed, watching Netflix and having my husband make some more surprise Wiener Schnitzel for lunch.

Some Wiener Schnitzel being pan fried (photo stolen from Schatzy's "The Facebook" page" - Thank you Schatz

3. Seeing my mom for dinner, drinking a strong margarita with her. Laughing.

4. Getting my first test results back and having them be normal.  

NORMAL!!!!!!!!!!

Dinner with a group of girl-friends. Coming home to a fire in our fireplace.

The fireplace in our living room

“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” ~ Anne Frank 

Find the beautiful

THAT

Find the beautiful

Yes, that...

is my theme for this year.

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson  

Finding the beautiful... it is very present in the external. 

But as I navigated just how ugly it was to go through this cancer thing, how easy it was for people to forget that it is my battle, and I had to find myself repeatedly trying to forgive... I lost my place. And I was so hurt by people that I am close to (who are ashamed of my diagnosis, who couldn't/can't talk to me about what was/is happening, who took things from me with out asking, who made things harder for me....) that I forgot to stop and find the beautiful.

So, fuck the folks who take away from this... they can live with their choices.

And I am so lucky, because I have people in my life who can help me do that. So, I have to let them in and help me see what I need to see.

I,  am so excited. Because, you see, this year, 2015, I get to find the beautiful.

Yes, that...

is really my theme for this year. 

holding the darkness at bay

So, after feeling a down due to yesterdays ramblings and self flagellation I find I need to pick myself back up.

The other day someone came to me and asked how I was. I told her that is is a day by day process. That I feel good, that I am grateful for so much.

She went on to ask if I had experienced any dark moments, any depression, and tears. She added that her sister is a doctor and had told her to expect me to get to that point at sometime.

I cried when I got the first message. there is something about being told to call an oncologist that puts a certain indescribable pressure on your heart. To hear it while alone in an office, is hard because it means that you have to call people and share the news - and I will be very, very honest, that I was tempted to not tell anyone. Though I imagined that my husband and mom would have been extremely upset with me had I gone this route - in spite of that though, I can't tell you how tempted I was.

I even called the oncologist first. I called my physician back and asked for a copy of the pathology report we talked about the long wait until my oncology appointment and then what the report meant in terms of what was happening inside my body. I went and sat by the fax and waited for the report to arrive (he was sending it right after we hung up). I got it and sat in my office, reading (memorizing) and mulling the news, tears in my eyes. I dried them, and decided I had to call my husband and so... I called my husband and told him the news. He was devastated (he had been a young boy when his mother had gone through two cancer diagnoses, I think that what was happening to me brought all those memories back) and I had to be strong and reassuring. After I hung up, I sat in the office some more, tears in my eyes again. Bracing myself for the call to my mom. She was walking into a meeting when she answered. I heard that stop in her voice. It was the same stop when I felt when I had to schedule an appointment with a hematologist oncologist for Squink after he was born.  Granted that was just for some jaundice we did not seem to be able to get rid of, and I knew that it was the hematology part we were seeing rather than the oncology part, but still - it isn't something you want to deal with as a mom, your babies should never see an oncologist, that should be the rule.

So that was a quick conversation and I sat in my office again, a sense of "why me?" prevailed. My boss who had gone through that cancer route walked by and noticed I was upset, came in and I shared the news with her. After that, the next 24 hours are kind of a blur. I know I called my dad, and he was probably the hardest one to tell... but only because I had no idea how he would react, and he has a tendency to avoid bad things and go on and pretend as if they did not happen so the idea that he would ignore me in this was something I considered highly probable. I only remember that at some point by the end of that night, I was sick of talking to people. Wait, I love talking to people what it was is that I was sick of re-telling the story, the news. I just did not want to have to say that damned word again.

That has been the darkest point so far.

The days following are still a blur. I talked to my siblings, texted with Prima. Made arrangements for all the responsibilities in my life that would be put on hold. Sent out a group email to women who I adore. Friends put me on prayer lists, and I got through the interminable wait until that appointment. Once I saw the oncologist, it felt so much better, because there was a plan. I knew what was happening and it felt good.

I would even say that I was a bit jubilant the day before my surgery, because that mass of mutating cells was getting removed.

I was in the hospital almost a week, determined that this whole thing would not bring me down. I have managed to stay positive through the rest, even that horrid backslide where, through projectile vomiting and other effluvia, fever spikes and chills all intertwined with a general sense of feeling horrid, I lost over 10 pounds, got dark circles around my eyes and began to lose hair. I was still in a good place.

I have these moments that seem to want to step in to those dark shadows; when I noticed that there is an area near my incision is numb (normal, but a strange feeling), talking to someone else who has gone through this process evokes some teariness, after time spent wondering if I am avoiding dealing with something, being told I hurt peoples feelings all brought forth some form of gloom to my mindset.

Thankfully, they are able to be beaten back.  And I think that is my job right now.

More thoughts and a tale from my misspent youth

Reflection

Something I do a lot of right now.

As I watch, feel, and notice my body heal from a pretty brutal surgery... I reflect back on my life.

What is so amazing to me is that I have such a wonderful group of people here in my life now. 

A husband who waited on me through the surgery, held my hand, brought me food, made me eat when I did not want to, bought me more thermometers than he should have had to purchase for me as I lay in bed vomiting with fever and chills and consistently losing them to the depths of my mattress and covers, who rinsed the vomit bowl so I could have a clean bowl for the next round, massaged my neck that was sore from throwing up, is waiting patiently for my body to heal, fed me, clothed me, monitored me while I showered in case I passed out... crap, the list of things he did [is doing] for me is too long to even recall... I just know that I could not have gotten through the last few months without him. 

Then there are the folks that helped arrange food deliveries, delivered food, send cards, visited, called, sent a text... I am humbled by all of these things. 

An aunt who fought against her ingrained instincts and took care of me as best she knew how when my husband couldn't stay with me.

My mom, who took time off and flew to be with me and watched her first baby sick and vomiting and trying to recover; held her hand, rubbed her brow, made me smile and provided those moments that induced healing that only a mom who loves to mother and nurture can give.

Friends who made sure I felt loved and fed, acquaintances who sent notes and some who even made sure I was fed... they came out like a force field and I was unprepared for the support.

I did not expect any of that, support that is... from anyone outside my immediate family. 

I am not sure why. I tend to keep to myself... I have been deeply burned by some people I thought were friends, so I tend to keep to myself and not talk to many folks. So, when I got the "NEWS" I had to let go, I needed help, I need a group of people to have my back (and not throw me under a bus without a chance to tell my story) and they came out of the woodwork, and I was touched, and am still touched, humbled.. tears are in my eyes now, as I write.

Even friends who I exchanged superficial texts with stepped out and were present to me. Near strangers offering so much more than good wishes.

The world is truly a magical place filled with so much good. I can't wait until I am free to frolic (without pain) and pass on that kind of goodness... for now, I heal, and am blanketed in gratitude that I have a tribe whose large size I didn't know.

~ ~ ~

I was driving and reflecting on what good things have happened to me in my life over the years and  in a brief flash of mental inner dialog that occurs in seconds I noticed that I drove by a building that once housed a flower shop in the 80's when I was in high school and which was made famous by a stop by then president Reagan who went to buy flowers for his mother-in-law who lived up in some super fancy "estates" near my house.

I remember that visit, he was new to office and it was a stop that made the local news. The other funny thing is that night some friends and I went to visit a friend that lived in those "estates" and was a neighbor of Nancy's mom... how do I know,, because of the plethora of secret service who hung out in the neighborhood. I remember a group of us running to the car from my friends house and the agents getting a little "jumpy" - but those were different days. Now we would probably be shot, then we just got stopped on the way past and told to behave by men in dark suits that wore sunglasses at night. 

I smiled at this memory as I drove away from that building that once housed the famous flower shop; I loved high school. I had friends whose company I enjoyed. I had good times... I was a little bit of a rebel, but I had a heart of gold, and the naivete of a child.

thoughts - random and reflective

The other night, as we arrived at home I asked Squink what he thought tomorrow was... he turned to look at me as if trying to discern if that was a trick question.

I smiled at him and said "It is so many days until your birthday"

He smiled and then replied with "And yours is tomorrow!"

I asked him how old he thought I would be (this was the trick question)...

He looked at me, squinted his eyes a bit. Said "56?"

I shook my head to say no.

He replied "60's?"

I shook my head no, again.

He opened his eyes wide and said "70's?"

I smiled, how wonderful to be so young and so unaware of what those numbers can mean to an adult.

I smiled at him, patted his head and told him it was in the 40's.

He paused thoughtfully.

Then he changed the topic, in that way that children do that is more about the swirling of thoughts in their brain than the desire to change the subject.

~ ~ ~

So I awoke this morning with sweet birthday wishes from Squink, who came to jump in bed with me and offered what may be the best birthday present a mother could have; The Birthday Snuggle... complete with singing and kisses on the nose.

A gentle quiet reminder of something that is very special.

We got ready, ate breakfast, and then opened the door.

And we had this most amazing sunrise greet us as we left our  home.

The sky was full of pinks, and blues and yellows and orange, with that kind of cloud cover that makes the colors ever so much more vibrant. I tried to take a picture from our front porch, to no avail. But Squink and I stoop looking at the sky being so grateful for such glory. I managed to get another picture that shows more of what I saw when stopped at a stop sign a few blocks from my home.

This is the best my phone camera could do.

I have to admit that when I saw it and was in such awe that I thanked God for such a beautiful birthday gift. I experienced something that felt like it was intended specifically for me and that could be shared with others. Which seems so completely selfish, but that is how I felt for a brief flash of time as I stood there.

Navigating life now is different. Complex. I am in a very different place from any other time in my life. I am really struggling with the whole diagnosis thing. I don't know where to fit it in, I suppose.

I don't know what to say. Am I a survivor? I mean, that size was under one millimeter... to say it was caught early is certainly true... but it is super micro early. My doctor told me in his thirty plus years of practice that he had only three patients that fit in this super early phase. The kind of phase where the only intervention is surgery. There is a kind of disbelief in that, for me anyway.

As I experience my body heal, I am struck by just how intense a process it actually is. I am constantly aware of my incision (can I even call it a scar yet, as it has not fully formed?). It is a feeling that is so constant that I am left to wonder if this will be my new normal, that in time I will adjust to the tight, sore, prickly, ache in my belly.

I keep asking what my lesson here, in the entirety of this situation, is and I have no idea. There is no concrete thought about what it is, what it might be, and perhaps most disappointing of all is that I don't even know what it should be.

Though, now that I have written this down I wonder if that might not be it. A need to shed a need for guidance and lessons from things and circumstance. Which seems ridiculous to think now that I write THAT down.

I lead a very happy life. I am grateful that I am here, today, in this moment. That I am able to love the people I do love, that I can like the people that I do like, and if I dig in a little that I can even dislike the people I do dislike.

~ ~ ~

One of the stories that has stuck with me is a story about how Sandra Day O'Connor did not reveal that she was in the midst of a breast cancer diagnosis/treatment when she was nominated to SCOTUS. The reason, as I was told, was because there is such a misconception of the disease that she KNEW that if congress knew about it that she would not get the nomination. many people have assured me that this is a true story, but none of them were Justice O'Connor

This made me sad then, and even sadder now as I navigate a similar thought very different path. I don't know if it is true, I have always wanted to ask her. I am even more especially curious now.

I applied for a significant position in an organization I belong to. I was denied the opportunity though, being told that my circumstances affected the decision not to interview me for the position.

I was public about the "circumstance" because I felt called to remind women that simple check-ups can and do save their lives. But that, caused me to not be considered for something (at least that is the reason they gave, and I have no reason to really doubt it but we do live in a complex world).

I am still very, very disappointed that I was ineligible to be interviewed. Part of me considers that I was discriminated against due to my diagnoses (which seems like it should be illegal, doesn't it).

What this does really, is reinforce this feeling of "what" in this experience.

• Some might say I was being punished by God. Something that I doubt, 

• Others may say I am supposed to love life and be grateful. - I feel like that is a place where I was strongly at before and am strongly at now - I feel gratitude daily.

• Others might say it is a consequence of a misspent youth. - possible, I suppose. But what isn't?

I do try to navigate this whole situation moment by moment, though.

Perhaps it is a cacophony of lessons that are too numerous to reduce to just one big one.

Perhaps, it is just life and how life works.

Day 16 - 40 days of writing - cosmos and faith

A conversation I had about faith.

Link

This assignment is due by Sunday night, but I certainly hope to have a nice “dent” in its completion by Friday, if possible. I truly appreciate your help on this. Would you mind telling me your age, where you are from, and if you followed your worldview since your youth or did something influence a change?

I am 45 years old. I was born in Bogota, Colombia to American parents, though we did not often socialize with other expatriates. I also lived in Spain, Ecuador, and Mexico before moving to the USA.  I think it was this experience that led me to my world view. I am an agnostic, but specifically a theistic one; meaning I believe in a supreme power/being, I just feel that knowing who or what that is lies outside of the purview of human understanding... and since faith is outside of the realm of scientific understanding I do not hold it to the rigors of scientific research.  I do however, approach my faith with a deep curiosity and search for more knowledge and insight.

 

The required elements are outlined below:

1)      For this assignment, you will interview two people with different worldviews. One will have the Christian worldview and the other will be one of the following:

a)      Atheist/Naturalist
b)      Secular Humanism
c)      Pantheistic
d)     New Age

I do not consider myself to be any of these, I consider myself to be a theistic agnostic. 

2)       Include in your interview, the following prompts:

a)      What does it mean to be human?

I see humans as part of a cosmos. We are on this planet/universe and part of a whole ecosystem of things that evolve and works both for and against each other.  I am seeking to understand why there is a need to see how we separate humans from the rest of living things as I am not convinced this is an appropriate means of thought.  I tend to eschew thinking that humans are any more special that other living beings, but get uncomfortable at the use of the word special here... perhaps it might be a word like meaningful. I think that since we seem to have things that we call "reason" and "thought" that using those involves a certain responsibility (and should add that each living organism has the responsibility to act according to its make-up; so a cell must do what cells do and a fish must do what fish do and thus a human must do what a human does).       

b)      What happens after death?

As I assume that this questions seeks to discover my thoughts on the concept of an after life, I would have to say that I don't know, but I am OK with this uncertainty. I tend towards falling back on certain principles in the hard sciences in that our afterlife continues in forms of energy, quarks and strings. I do know that ancestors carry on an important legacy and perhaps that their roles and stories being carried down in various forms (traditions for example) might be the most beautiful thing that happens after death. 

c)      Elaborate on who Jesus Christ is according to your worldview.

He was one in a series of people who have served as messengers regarding valuable lesson in human cooperation. 

d)     How does your worldview deal with the concepts of evil and suffering in the world?

Nature is cruel and has no remorse. I don't think there is evil. Things that tend to be associated with evil in terms of humans are aspects of human behavior. I think that this is where things like religion are important (I tend to tell people that I am religious and not spiritual) as they serve as guides to encourage cooperative behavior and perhaps to curb tendencies that might not be as socially productive.

Thank you again for your time!!

No, problem. It was very delightful trying to get my thoughts on paper though I do feel like I did not do them justice. 

Day 12 - 40 days of writing - managing vulnerability

Vulnerable

I am feeling so very vulnerable.


vulnerable
/ˈvʌlnərəbəl/
adjective 
1. capable of being physically or emotionally wounded or hurt
2. open to temptation, persuasion, censure, etc
3. liable or exposed to disease, disaster, etc



Let me be very clear. I don't do vulnerable. Rather, I don't like to do vulnerable myself. Support vulnerable I am pretty good at. 

This is vulnerable:

I am not that.

But yet, I feel so exposed.

I suppose there is this thing about letting go. My whole life I have loved fiercely, family, friends, the underserved among so many other things. And there is something, with a couple of rare exceptions, that is very one sided. In most of the cases (outside of family) love not expected to be reciprocated. In terms of friends; I can love them as much as I need to but since I know how variances are in the complexities of human relationships, I haven't really expected or even needed them to love me back.

Until now, I suppose.

I received an email from someone I think is wonderful and call a very dear friend and in her email she said she had called me a best friend. Oh, I was struck by that. I hadn't known that she had classified me in that category, and I was deeply, deeply touched and very grateful. I am better at the subtleties of friendships with men, and not so good at them with a grand preponderance of women.

But, it feels so vulnerable to allow oneself to be loved in this kind of situation. At least, for me, in terms of relationships outside of marriage and genetics.

As an aside, I made a variation of this Ayurvedic Dal recipe, it is a family favorite that is rich and complex in flavor but so hearty and filling. I even quadrupled the basic recipe (only one can of coconut soup, and some other changes). The way the currants plump up and complement the curry power is like a bit of food heaven.

Normally, I make brown rice but for some reason I bought some jasmine rice. In an attempt to make rice Ecuadorean style I followed the way Carloti (our live in maid/nanny) showed me...something like this recipe, but letting it sit longer so you get a crispy bottom.

There is so much comfort in comfort food.

Day 10 - 40DOW - tired

I'm tired.

I am lucky.

But, I'm tired.

Part of me feels like I should want to scream.

But, I feel tired.

Another part of me wants to curl up and sleep through this... wake me up when it's over.

I got my paperwork for the oncologist and I left it sitting on the floor by my bed.

CONQUER

CANCER

It reads.

I am curled up on my bed staring at it. 

It looks so optimistic.

Wondering if I'll get turned away because I don't have any "films" to bring with me, just my sad little 2 page pathology report.

Are the 18 days I had to wait going to get pushed to more.

This waiting is painful.

I'm trying to be patient.

And grateful.

And I am...

Really.

The sweet notes and efforts are so unbelievably touching.

But I'm also angry.

At myself.

And scared.

For my loved ones.

And tired.

So very, very, tired.

Day 8 - 40DOW - gratitude

I've been sick the past few days. Fever and runny nose, you know that route, right? 

The thing is that when you're one week post op, you shouldn't take risks, especially as I move on. Couple this with a change is what I will call discharge. I called my super awesome GYN. He had me come in to make sure everything was ok.

He was not with a patient when I walked into the back office area. And he must have seen me stepping on the scale. I heard him say, the good news is that you look good. I smiled and told him that I was indeed feeling better, but we had different ideas on what good meant. We laughed. He came over and said that he was really glad I called, that most patients would just dismiss the fever as being the cold, and that he was really, really glad I called.

When he came in to see me, I got to ask the big pressing question in my head which, ironically has nothing to do with cancer.

Can we take out that IUD you fought so hard to preserve at my last biopsy, and if you do, can I keep it?

When I go back next week we will remove my IUD and I will get to keep it. I figure that since I actually kept my cerclage (it is a link to a link, so if you don't want to see the knot that held me shut, you don't have to click all the way through and just stop at my picture of Squink) that I wanted to keep my IUD as well. Symbols, if you will, of the two times my cervix failed me... or rather, of when we failed each other.

This exchange actually led to a very interesting discussion of complementary medicine. I really have a wonderful gyn.

So, gratitude... yes. Aside from whomever is coming to see this blog (and it averages about 1 person per post (which may be me since I am writing this) I haven't really told many people in the grand scheme of things. I have told my family, not all of them just the close and a few extended (a couple of cousins, though not all... I suppose I should do that tonight... though if truth be told the cousins I haven't told are part of the group that thought letting me know that my grandmother had passed away via a public Facebook post was appropriate... so, I figured I could return the favor in some way). 

Anyway, I sent out a bcc email to some folks who mean the world to me and who did not know. While I did not hear back from everyone I emailed, I was delighted with who did respond and what they said. I did send it out to a few males, I heard back from two. That was a surprise, they wrote these sweet gentle notes and considering that they are not sweet gentle men, I was touched. 

I also told my fellow board members of an agency I serve on the board for, they were amazing and supportive. One bought me what she called her Catholic cancer kit; a statuette and booklets/cards of Saint Peregrine, some chamomile tea, and Holy water from Lourdes. 

People who have chosen to reach out with messages of support and love have been so treasured. Phone calls, emails, letters, notes, offers of lunch or dinner and other... I feel so much comfort in their messages and offers of time and help.  One (one of my guy friends) even saucily wrote that they would rather look at pictures of food than hear the news I had just given...

For you k...

I am so very lucky that I am not alone on this experience.

Day 7 - 40DOW - Curious George is my new hero

There is something kind of magical that happens when you get a serious diagnosis... You get a new level of patience and tolerance, and you hold closer to what's unacceptable and intolerable.

It is as if one gets knighted and imbued with certain super powers. Probably though, it is just some form of self examination that allows for some serious decision making.

I am not dying, but this may be the closest I get to that in a while. A friend wrote me last night about how I was now in the middle of my "bull fight" and that I had an arena of friends who were supporting me through this. I was struck by their using this metaphor not only because I am a bullfighters daughter, but because there really was some intense truth to what they wrote (and also because they hate bullfights so I was surprised to see them use this).

Without delving into a treatise on bullfighting, I will say that the bullfight is not about the torero, it is about the relationship between the bull fighter and the bull, each playing into instincts and their very special mortal relationship. They are each trying to figure the other out, and while they are separate, they form a symbiotic relationship. I am here in this ring, and I am that relationship, the instinct is driving me to examine my surroundings, and as they said, I have a cadre of people supporting that.

Which brings me to something else that has been swirling in my newly seriously introspective mind.

I recall the day when you heard that someone had cervical cancer that a pretty loaded assumption was possible made:

The woman (since men do not get cervical cancer) was a loose ho-bag and had proverbial round heels

I have heard this whispered amongst the most gossipy of people even to this day. So, yes there is a certain fear of assumptions that people (stupid people) may make about me. I know that I have never been a loose ho-bag and I most certainly do not have round heels. And I don't think that what is happening is the direct result of any karmic like indiscretions I may have made.  I am a human with a cervix and it has betrayed me (yet again).

I sit here newly diagnosed with something the most heinous of gossips use to tear people down and between that and the whole mortality associated with the word cancer causes for an astonishing amount of reflection. Self-reflection certainly, but also about the world I live in; the friends I have and thee ones I had, the adventures, the quiet moments, the rage, the gentle, the sweet peace when my son rests his head on my lap, the Ebola crisis, our southwestern drought, or awfully separatist politicians, the atrocities in the Sudan... all these and so much more... they have become different in some ways now.

At the root, though, these are extensions of curiosity, which is a true animal behavior.  There is something primal about trying to understand what is happening around you.  A certain fierceness comes, priorities seems stronger and there is a certain curiosity that reigns over me. It is like an adrenaline rush, but in a very sedate way (much like the adrenaline the human and the bull need to control when in the ring). I consider how the social animals (outside of humans) interact with each other. Elephants are amazing at this, but so are so many other animals. And there is something beautiful in that... in feeling close to that which unites all of us animals as we try to make sense of the world around us. It connects me to my surroundings, makes me feel a part of something whole and those who think this kind of thing (introspection) is something selfish, elitist, or wrong are just temporarily disconnected from the life death continuum.

Day 6 - 40DOW - another stage, perhaps.

In Old Norse the raven was a popular symbol and represented the power and wisdom of the mythological god Odin who would strike fear into the hearts of even the bravest warriors with his two fearless ravens sitting on his shoulders.

Me Hello again, 3:00am. You kind of suck for me right now, though I recall the days when you were fun and I was much more invincible.

I've moved into the next stage. Or is it another stage?

It happened the second I hung up on the last person in my inner circle.

The very second my finger pressed the hang up button.

I felt stupid and ridiculous for all the crying and sad.

This is stupid, I thought to myself.

You're trying to get attention, I scolded myself.

You are making more out of this than it deserves, my inner voice admonished.

I felt ashamed for my tearful calls and emails to these people who mean a lot to me. 

My brain rattled off a list of the reasons that supports its claim that I am swimming in ridiculous.

There was a tiny voice telling me this was all OK. These are scary new words and it's ok to be scared. But tiny voices are easily shut down.

Is this denial? Acceptance? Are there even progressive emotional states after a diagnosis like this, like the stages of grief?

I know I am not going to die, so why all this fuss? Is it really all that ridiculous that I want my mother and aunt with me, even if this causes them even bigger inconveniences? That I want to monopolize their time and play paper dolls with them, like I used to do when sick and at home as a child.

I always loved paper dolls from other cultures

And the vestiges of anger are poking through in those who mean well and tell  me what to do, or discount my thoughts on what I know may be my treatment options. This is my damned body, not yours.

Is there an angry denial phase? Am I really angry? Am I in denial?

I hate that as my body recovers from the cone biopsy, the aches and pains tease me into thinking that the cancer has taken control... that it has, in a blind rage at the attempt at its excision, rallied like a fire breathing mythical beast and waged a war inside me that I am slightly oblivious to and thereby allowing to grow with wild abandon as I navigate the days until my oncology appointment.

I decided that if it should have a name that somehow the notion of carrion should be involved. I have decided to invoke the ancient Valkyries of my genetic past, the ones that were ravens that became the ears (thought) and eyes (memory) for Odin, that cleaned up the battle fields by eating away at the carrion that resulted.

I want those ravens to remove my carrion and bring me the wisdom to do it bravely.

Day 5 - 40DOW - I don't have Ebola

Restless nights provide for interesting lucid thinking. I'll start from a doze-like-state with some thought usually a random one.

At this point, it's 3:00 am and I am snuggled up in our Arizona pines under a heated blanket. I have arranged for a Skype call with my sister in England for later. But what woke me was the thought; "I don't have Ebola". Which isn't that far off since we have a gentleman up here in a self imposed quarantine after his return from a mission trip to Liberia. News link

It's also interesting that I've had to, on a couple of occasions, give friends permission to worry for me. When something scary happens to someone you care about it can be hard. But it's tough to understand since I've always felt the right to deal with these things as my body dictated. I'm also surprised in the ever slight shift in my self. I'd consider myself to be nurturing in many ways, I tend to love people fiercely when something about them speaks to my soul, and as I manage the phone conversations and emails, I feel decidedly more nurturing to them. It's very subtle, but it's something I've noticed. I wonder if it's the result of the emotional exhaustion or just an internal shift and I wonder how temporary it might be... this urge to tell the people I love that are family and friends to give in to how their body is telling them to react. Maybe it's because I see love in their reactions and I'm honored and humbled by its reciprocity.

Maybe it's because it's now 3:30 am and I need to get more sleep.

Here is a picture of a bull with a B on his butt.

Day 4 - 40DOW

Emotionally drained.

Moved through the last phone calls, began the personal emails and then prepared for and began to draft the mass email to friends whom I respect. 

At this point I became exhausted and took a several hour nap.

 

People, so far, are being gracious and supportive. Except for the one friend who heard the news and (not unexpectedly) proceeded to talk about themselves for 40 minutes. Thankfully, it caused me to laugh in some form of delight.

A last minute trip north, just to get out and get a break. 

Everyone on their respective devices, random conversation about physics, religion, books.

Two more personal contacts left... 

I feel better today.