Life!

I don’t know about your life, but mine gets more unpredictable as I get older. It must be part of some cosmic plan, life teaching us to let go of this demand or that attachment as we prepare to leave this earth. Not that I’m ready to leave this earth, but I’m more aware of how little it takes to make me content these days. It is quite a grace, a gift from God to be able to flow with life in the midst of unpredictability.

So much has happened since blogging last month! First, I lost my dog, Hutch – rescued from a rabbit hutch at 6months and afraid to walk on solid ground, he was my top working farm dog- an Australian Cattle Dog, and my personal service dog (he alerted me to blood sugar drops, and found my shoes, keys, when I lost them). During my period of grief over Hutch, my mother became unresponsive and seemed near death. She recovered, thank God. Last weekend, I traveled south with my daughters as navigators for a much longed for reconnection with old friends and their kids, both animal and human. How wonderful to share hugs and laughter, the smell of horses, mountains, oatmeal pie and baking chicken. I petted old dogs and new pups, saw tulips in bloom, red bud trees opening, relished the sound of voices: talking, laughing, singing with guitar, even loved the noise and melodies from violins the kids are learning to play. I enjoyed watching the kids exploding from their car screaming the delights of being in the country. And the last and most joyful event: my PET and CT scans from last week showed no cancer!

In the last few weeks, I found the space I needed to pull away from being a cancer patient. It took some effort not to lose my identity to cancer. Cancer tends to be all consuming. I experienced some very lonely moments, not only from the shock of being dropped into a whole new ‘cancer world’, from isolation during low cell counts, from having less energy to run errands or socialize, but also from doing the inner work it takes to be open and vulnerable in spirit, in writing, in processing the changes illness brings. No one can walk the illness journey for you; family and friends can walk with you, but if you are open and wanting healing on all levels, illness takes you to some bleak, lonely places, even if you are a person of deep faith, trust in God, Love, or the universe. That said, I don’t believe I’m a special person; I truly believe every one has the ability to be open, vulnerable, and teachable when difficulties come. Knowing how difficult the journey is, I have compassion and respect for those who choose a different response.

I’m grateful I never fully felt like a cancer victim, nor do I feel like a cancer survivor now that my scans said I’m cancer free. Mostly, I feel I’m the same person, just with a heightened sense of clarity, of calling, and more appreciation and awareness of my miraculous body that works so hard to keep me healthy and is the perfect home for my soul. I also have a more profound awareness of love and gratitude for the gift of life.

I’ll end with a short story honoring the life of my faithful canine companion:

Hutch learning to work steers in feed lot - Oct 2001
First time I went in the steer pen with Hutch we moved along the perimeter of the pen as my trainer instructed, and the steers did move away from us. I wasn’t sure if I was handling a dog or a manure scoop, as Hutch ate mouthfuls of manure to keep from excited barking and to keep his teeth occupied when he really wanted to bite some cattle heels.

When Jay found out I went in the pen by myself, he was not happy! He told me about the time his mom helped him sort steers and an ornery one came after her. She scrambled up the wall to get away from the charging steer, but the crazy beast climbed up and over, right after her. The steer crossed the road and ran, snorting and kicking, down the field. Jay got his dad, and they deliberately chased the crazed steer around the field until he was exhausted, then they got two tractors and surrounded him. They drove him back to the barn, keeping him between the two tractors. Jay never told me where his mom hid from the steer when he first jumped the fence.

His story put the ‘fear of steer’ back in me. I shakily decided to get right back in there before I drowned in fear. Hutch and I did okay the second time too, not really confident yet, but we quietly moved all the sleeping steers from the barn out into the barn yard. Then we moved them all back into the barn. Kim saw us and told Jay how calmly we worked. Now, Jay wants us to help him sort and load steers this week. Talk about a change of tune!
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This was one of the good stories….there’s plenty of hilarious, awful stories of Hutch being as bullheaded as the cattle he worked, being a set of teeth on legs. He taught me so much about conquering my fears, and about living life to the fullest. He was one great dog!

Joyfully,
Sharon