Saturday, January 31, 2009
Holing Up -- 1-31-09
This is recovery week. As expected, I'm not feeling so great. I'm congested, blistery, tongue and throat hurt, swallowing is difficult. Voice is hoarse; talking and eating are not pleasant, but the prednisone makes me hungry, so I am getting calories ingested. My wonderful hubby makes shakes and smoothies that go down well. Meds have prevented thrush so at least I don't have that added misery. I'm tired and want to go into a 'cave' and hide. I told my family they can throw food at me once in awhile but otherwise leave me alone. I have my books, movies, (super bowl commercials :), blankets, heating pad with me so I'll be holing up this weekend.
For the curious, I went to Gail, NAET/acupressurist (similar to acupuncture without the needles) yesterday. She works on my body so it doesn't resist chemo and treat it as an allergen. After chemo last time I had pain along my spine. I thought it was bone pain from the Neulasta shot. It wasn't. Gail said my body's energy meridians get sluggish and painful after traumas like the chemical onslaught, so she touched 'pressure points' all over my body to keep the energy flow going. I lay on a magnetic bed during the treatment and feel so relaxed and mellow, I don't want to get off! Afterwards, she taught me to tap on my collarbone and breast bone to activate my immune system. Perhaps my white count won't drop so low. She also showed me how someone could run their hands down my spine on each side, using light pressure, so the pressure points/meridians remain open. Jay is getting good at doing this; it really alleviates the pain along my spine. I'm utterly grateful as last time I suffered through ten days of pain, thinking it was all bone pain. Now I know it wasn't all from the Neulasta shot.
I'll end with a week of gratitudes, some 'angels' who have deeply blessed me, some wonderful 'red bird' sightings (birds without feathers, that is!). I will not name names because I'll forget someone and that is unbearable to me. You know who you are, dear ones.
...sun rises, sun sets....rosy skies dotted with deep royal blue clouds.
...a completely ordinary day!
...a walk at Overlook rink with a friend
...sunshine, beautiful sunshine!
....painting pottery with all my daughters.
....ham, green beans ...ummmm!
....salad, fresh beautiful, crunchy, gorgeous salad. I crave salad. Not easy to eat with a sore mouth, so I eat with love and careful swallowing.
...snow, white and lovely.
...slipping, but not falling on ice.
...dogs playing in the yard, pouncing on balls.
...a huge box of food delivered with a smile. Spinach, dill mashed potatoes.
Flavor my irritated tongue can taste!
...warm apple pie. The smell alone is divine.
...a card with a red feather enclosed. Tears.
...mystery teddy bear
...dear ones reading to me when I'm too weary to read to myself
...laughter; dear ones who make me laugh.
...cards, lovely, beautiful, funny, loving, absurd, inspirational cards.
...clean house; 'angels' helping me clean
...gift of a cd. Lovely song. More tears.
...finishing my school report. Whew...took more energy than I thought.
...finding new friends who also have cancer.
...a walk at the mall with friends.
...puppy, Teo laying on my legs now, not on my belly; does he know the tumor has shrunk?
...a clothes shop sales woman telling me I looked fabulous with my hat, scarf, matching earrings and shirt. What a shock! Trendy clothes shop sales people never notice me.
...cards from little angels, full of stickers, colors and tape.
... a night of unmedicated sleep.
...dirt on my kitchen floor. Life is going on normally!
...keeping down raw vegetable juice; mixtures of cabbage and parsley and cucumber and celery.
Not your tasty V8.
...one more week of having to take the vile goldenseal and stillingia mixture.
...grateful, oh so grateful ...chemo doesn't taste bad!!
Joyfully,
Sharon
For the curious, I went to Gail, NAET/acupressurist (similar to acupuncture without the needles) yesterday. She works on my body so it doesn't resist chemo and treat it as an allergen. After chemo last time I had pain along my spine. I thought it was bone pain from the Neulasta shot. It wasn't. Gail said my body's energy meridians get sluggish and painful after traumas like the chemical onslaught, so she touched 'pressure points' all over my body to keep the energy flow going. I lay on a magnetic bed during the treatment and feel so relaxed and mellow, I don't want to get off! Afterwards, she taught me to tap on my collarbone and breast bone to activate my immune system. Perhaps my white count won't drop so low. She also showed me how someone could run their hands down my spine on each side, using light pressure, so the pressure points/meridians remain open. Jay is getting good at doing this; it really alleviates the pain along my spine. I'm utterly grateful as last time I suffered through ten days of pain, thinking it was all bone pain. Now I know it wasn't all from the Neulasta shot.
I'll end with a week of gratitudes, some 'angels' who have deeply blessed me, some wonderful 'red bird' sightings (birds without feathers, that is!). I will not name names because I'll forget someone and that is unbearable to me. You know who you are, dear ones.
...sun rises, sun sets....rosy skies dotted with deep royal blue clouds.
...a completely ordinary day!
...a walk at Overlook rink with a friend
...sunshine, beautiful sunshine!
....painting pottery with all my daughters.
....ham, green beans ...ummmm!
....salad, fresh beautiful, crunchy, gorgeous salad. I crave salad. Not easy to eat with a sore mouth, so I eat with love and careful swallowing.
...snow, white and lovely.
...slipping, but not falling on ice.
...dogs playing in the yard, pouncing on balls.
...a huge box of food delivered with a smile. Spinach, dill mashed potatoes.
Flavor my irritated tongue can taste!
...warm apple pie. The smell alone is divine.
...a card with a red feather enclosed. Tears.
...mystery teddy bear
...dear ones reading to me when I'm too weary to read to myself
...laughter; dear ones who make me laugh.
...cards, lovely, beautiful, funny, loving, absurd, inspirational cards.
...clean house; 'angels' helping me clean
...gift of a cd. Lovely song. More tears.
...finishing my school report. Whew...took more energy than I thought.
...finding new friends who also have cancer.
...a walk at the mall with friends.
...puppy, Teo laying on my legs now, not on my belly; does he know the tumor has shrunk?
...a clothes shop sales woman telling me I looked fabulous with my hat, scarf, matching earrings and shirt. What a shock! Trendy clothes shop sales people never notice me.
...cards from little angels, full of stickers, colors and tape.
... a night of unmedicated sleep.
...dirt on my kitchen floor. Life is going on normally!
...keeping down raw vegetable juice; mixtures of cabbage and parsley and cucumber and celery.
Not your tasty V8.
...one more week of having to take the vile goldenseal and stillingia mixture.
...grateful, oh so grateful ...chemo doesn't taste bad!!
Joyfully,
Sharon
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Good and Bad; Love and Suffering
My tongue, throat and hair cells are dying along with the cancer cells. Some good things have to be sacrificed along with the bad things. It reminds me, oddly, of love. When one chooses to live open and unguarded, surrendered to Love, a few walls of defense need to come down.
Like seeing beyond physical beauty. Seeing the spirit glowing rather than the face. Not that I ever thought myself beautiful, but not bad looking did sort of define me. Now, each round of chemo brings lip blisters and angry zits, as if hair loss isn't enough. Looking good is sacrificed in cancer healing. Strangely, I do feel beautiful these days. God's grace carries me even through glances in the mirror.
Love demands I love myself as much as others. Love myself in the process of healing, where I am right now, not love myself when I've become what I want to be, when I'm healed, or when I've arrived, when I'm worthy enough. God loves me right now, where I am in life's process. I am asked to do the same, for myself, for all others. The time for Love is right now, no matter what struggle or glory is happening within or around me.
In October, my spiritual director quoted something that hit a deep chord in me. I remember smiling deeply, just receiving the quote into my soul. I can't remember who said this because I was so touched by the statement: "It is a truly gracious person who wants what they get in life, rather than insisting on getting what they want." Please correct me if I've misquoted, and let me know the author too, if you know. I keep hearing that quote now, and wonder why I smiled so deeply upon first hearing it. I'm astounded more with knowing what was growing unaware in my body then. The longing and desire to be so accepting of life was growing in me along with cancer. Is this how Love grows? Was this God preparing me for what was coming?
I don't believe the quote means passively living with an abuser, or putting up with what should be changed. I believe it means embracing 'what is', that which can't be changed no matter how one stomps feet, yells, fights, denies or runs. God doesn't mind stomping or yelling, I hasten to add. I've yelled at God plenty of times in the past and thrown fist fulls of eggs into the manure pit during periods of anger releasing. I always imagined God clapping and 'egging' me on. God is big enough to embrace my real feelings. Over the years, I've learned God loves when I'm real, when I own my emotions, face them, deal with them in non-violent ways. God becomes real to me in measure of how real I am with God.
No one with any sanity would welcome cancer. Yet the spiritual path brings paradox. Along with bad often comes good. Another quote from school that I love: "To live is to grow. To grow is to change. To change is to suffer." Suffering is bearable when one can open to the gifts hidden within. The first gift I received "AD" (after diagnosis) was sudden clarity about my body, my life, my desires. It's amazing how easily I've been able to separate what matters from what doesn't matter, and how I've learned to trust and let go of more control.
Every day, I'm humbled and encouraged by the outpouring of love offered to me. Countless gifts of time, service, transportation, meals, cards, flowers, pajamas, and so much more, more than I could have ever imagined. Family, friends, church, even strangers are reaching out to me. People I haven't heard from in years are praying for me, sending me cards. It's overwhelming! My soul grapples with deep questions in all this love. Am I truly loved that much? Or is the suffering what deserves this love? Could I get through this without any support, like the countless poor, abused and forgotten? I'm sure I've been stingy with my love, not giving it fully to others, always, whether or not they are suffering or in need of love. I especially wonder if I am open to loving those outside of my community, whether or not they suffer? Are these questions and thoughts of compassion, love for others, or thoughts of my own unworthiness? It is this kind of self awareness, without condemnation, this undefendedness that love asks of me.
The biggest gift in this time of suffering is letting go of more fear. I've carried within me a life long dream of writing for the public, but fear kept my writing hidden. With cancer and chemo, death doesn't seem as far removed, and suddenly I am no longer bound by fear. My writing flows from me as before, because I can't stop writing. But now I share instead of keeping it to myself. I share whether or not any one approves. And, I'm amazed when people do. More amazed when people choose to follow a blog I write!
Speaking of gifts: I received a darling Vermont Teddy Bear in the mail yesterday, from B & R. My family and I scratched our heads for hours last night trying to identify B & R. I'm so sorry for our ignorance! I'd love if the givers would reveal themselves, but if not, I do love a good mystery too! Thank you!
Joyfully,
Sharon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I stand before what is with an open heart and dwell in possibilities."
Macrina Wiederkehr
Equanimity: dictonary says is calm, composure
Jean Halifax's deifinition of equanimity: "the stabitlity of mind that allows us to be present with an open heart no matter how wonderful or difficult conditions are."
"God, help me believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is." Macrina Wiederkehr
Like seeing beyond physical beauty. Seeing the spirit glowing rather than the face. Not that I ever thought myself beautiful, but not bad looking did sort of define me. Now, each round of chemo brings lip blisters and angry zits, as if hair loss isn't enough. Looking good is sacrificed in cancer healing. Strangely, I do feel beautiful these days. God's grace carries me even through glances in the mirror.
Love demands I love myself as much as others. Love myself in the process of healing, where I am right now, not love myself when I've become what I want to be, when I'm healed, or when I've arrived, when I'm worthy enough. God loves me right now, where I am in life's process. I am asked to do the same, for myself, for all others. The time for Love is right now, no matter what struggle or glory is happening within or around me.
In October, my spiritual director quoted something that hit a deep chord in me. I remember smiling deeply, just receiving the quote into my soul. I can't remember who said this because I was so touched by the statement: "It is a truly gracious person who wants what they get in life, rather than insisting on getting what they want." Please correct me if I've misquoted, and let me know the author too, if you know. I keep hearing that quote now, and wonder why I smiled so deeply upon first hearing it. I'm astounded more with knowing what was growing unaware in my body then. The longing and desire to be so accepting of life was growing in me along with cancer. Is this how Love grows? Was this God preparing me for what was coming?
I don't believe the quote means passively living with an abuser, or putting up with what should be changed. I believe it means embracing 'what is', that which can't be changed no matter how one stomps feet, yells, fights, denies or runs. God doesn't mind stomping or yelling, I hasten to add. I've yelled at God plenty of times in the past and thrown fist fulls of eggs into the manure pit during periods of anger releasing. I always imagined God clapping and 'egging' me on. God is big enough to embrace my real feelings. Over the years, I've learned God loves when I'm real, when I own my emotions, face them, deal with them in non-violent ways. God becomes real to me in measure of how real I am with God.
No one with any sanity would welcome cancer. Yet the spiritual path brings paradox. Along with bad often comes good. Another quote from school that I love: "To live is to grow. To grow is to change. To change is to suffer." Suffering is bearable when one can open to the gifts hidden within. The first gift I received "AD" (after diagnosis) was sudden clarity about my body, my life, my desires. It's amazing how easily I've been able to separate what matters from what doesn't matter, and how I've learned to trust and let go of more control.
Every day, I'm humbled and encouraged by the outpouring of love offered to me. Countless gifts of time, service, transportation, meals, cards, flowers, pajamas, and so much more, more than I could have ever imagined. Family, friends, church, even strangers are reaching out to me. People I haven't heard from in years are praying for me, sending me cards. It's overwhelming! My soul grapples with deep questions in all this love. Am I truly loved that much? Or is the suffering what deserves this love? Could I get through this without any support, like the countless poor, abused and forgotten? I'm sure I've been stingy with my love, not giving it fully to others, always, whether or not they are suffering or in need of love. I especially wonder if I am open to loving those outside of my community, whether or not they suffer? Are these questions and thoughts of compassion, love for others, or thoughts of my own unworthiness? It is this kind of self awareness, without condemnation, this undefendedness that love asks of me.
The biggest gift in this time of suffering is letting go of more fear. I've carried within me a life long dream of writing for the public, but fear kept my writing hidden. With cancer and chemo, death doesn't seem as far removed, and suddenly I am no longer bound by fear. My writing flows from me as before, because I can't stop writing. But now I share instead of keeping it to myself. I share whether or not any one approves. And, I'm amazed when people do. More amazed when people choose to follow a blog I write!
Speaking of gifts: I received a darling Vermont Teddy Bear in the mail yesterday, from B & R. My family and I scratched our heads for hours last night trying to identify B & R. I'm so sorry for our ignorance! I'd love if the givers would reveal themselves, but if not, I do love a good mystery too! Thank you!
Joyfully,
Sharon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I stand before what is with an open heart and dwell in possibilities."
Macrina Wiederkehr
Equanimity: dictonary says is calm, composure
Jean Halifax's deifinition of equanimity: "the stabitlity of mind that allows us to be present with an open heart no matter how wonderful or difficult conditions are."
"God, help me believe the truth about myself, no matter how beautiful it is." Macrina Wiederkehr
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Two chemo treatments down; four to go!! It took six hours yesterday, another long day. And another 'sledgehammer' dose. With R-CHOP, I get five different support drugs. The combination makes me sleepy, headachey, with dull,watering eyes so I sleep most of the time. The mediport is wonderful! The big port needle gave me pause, but didn't hurt as bad as the skinny needles going in a hand vein. I watched the nurses try to find good veins in the other patients and was very glad I had the port. So much to be grateful for!
Dr Degreen, oncologist, gave me good news and bad news. Good: he could not feel the abdomen tumor anymore. Bad: since there was a gut tumor involved it automatically makes the lymphoma stage 4. So I will get the complete 'sledghammer' for all chemo treatments. The bad news was a downer, until I realized he knew this all along. My reaction was fresh. I settled knowing stage 4 doesn't change the outcome. DeGreen is very confident the chemo will put the cancer into complete remission.
I shouldn't have any new side effects, just more of the same: constipation, sore mouth, tongue and throat, sore scalp, fatigue, bone pain, and low white count. Side effects won't worsen, except for fatigue as this chemo is very hard on the body.
Last night I went to bed early, but had trouble falling asleep. Guess I slept too much during chemo infusion. While laying there, awake, bored, I talked to my body parts. "Wash out the guinea pigs, dear spleen and colon, they want to go!"..."work hard, girls (bladder and kidneys), flush out the chemo." ...."okay all, (stomach, intestines, skin, eyes, throat) let's work together with the chemo so it can do the job, and let's not over react." I blessed my whole digestive tract, trying to ignore the simmering cauldron feel going on inside. I'm prone to fear so every pain, gas bump, gurgle or twizzle tempted me to worry over gastric explosions, tumors and blockages. It didn't help that I watched 'House' last night, an episode of a patient with rupturing spleen and bladder!
Instead of following the fear, I began thanking my body for doing the hard work of moving things along. The gurgles came so often, my thank-you became a non-stop mantra! Then I started to doubt the wisdom of preloading with laxatives. I asked God for "a pinch off the daily loaf", but sometimes I don't trust enough and try to help God along. Of course, I'll be sorry if there's a whole loaf explosion, but I'd rather be yeasty bread boiling over the bowl than a solid lump of dough that just sits there defying one's baking abilities. My image of God used to be so harsh and condemning. I'm grateful I seldom feel condemned in my blunders now; God and I just laugh together a lot. And I do learn from my mistakes.
I finally fell asleep; no explosions woke me up. This morning I still feel plugged, the grumblings are my guts trying to work. I'm eyeing the Milk of Magnesia/Sennecot bottles again. Trust or trust with help? Ah, such a discernment question!!
Whenever I wash my hands and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see trampy red 'chemo blush' cheeks and bald head. What a sight! I look like a body pumped full of chemicals. Isn't chemo bad enough without the red dye added to one drug? I assume it's dye; can't imagine it comes red naturally. The huge syringe of red did look rather festive, matching the sparkly red Valentine garland wrapped around my IV pole. Doesn't look as festive when peeing red and seeing red. It's like eating 1000 red beets in one day! Knowing my avoidance of food colorings, preservatives and genetically modified foods, I grin at how ironic my treatment is: chemotherapy, complete with red dye and tons of support drugs, immunotherapy with mouse antibodies.
I've always thought of my body as sensitive and allergic. I avoid drugs as much as possible. I used to think I'd rather die than go through chemo. Thinking I didn't have a strong will to live and chemo suffering would be worse than death. Granted, my cancer is highly treatable, and I am profoundly touched by journeys far more serious and difficult than mine, yet my perspective is changing. I have such trust in Dr. DeGreen, in his recommendations. Such gratitude for the positive energy, kind, caring nurses and staff at the Lancaster Cancer Center. I'm surprised at my gratitude in not having time to process my diagnosis, or choose or think about alternative cancer treatments. I felt so carried by God through the tumultuous partial bowel blockage, the diagnosis and fast response by doctors/surgeons in keeping the system moving for me, getting chemo started to avoid bowel surgery. I was simply given an invitation to trust, and I did so instead of being my usual fearful and skeptical. What a gift, meeting so many kind, attentive doctors and non-knife happy surgeons! The only thing I did during that time of trust was say to God, "With your help, I seek and attract kind, excellent medical professionals who will partner with me to heal my body." This experience is changing my view of myself, my body. I am a lot stronger than I thought, body, mind and soul. I am truly 'fearfully and wonderfully' made, a miracle of adaptation and healing. The Intelligence that created the body, heals the body.
On a more contemplative note, I'm glad I learned Centering Prayer and meditation at Kairos school. Meditation was the hardest practice. It seemed so utterly pointless, so counter culture, unproductive and foolish. But after five years of practice I can truthfully say, there is nothing better for me than meditation and contemplative prayer. It has long stopped being a discipline. Such times of quietly opening myself to Life draws me, pulls me toward greater love and joy. I don't have to form words, or produce, or perform. All I have to do is quiet my mind, sit in stillness and open myself to Love, to God, to Christ, to the Creator, the Intelligence of the Cosmos.
While receiving chemo I listened to guided imagery CDs and drifted in and out of sleep, of Centering Prayer. It was lovely feeling so calm, centered, surrounded by love and healing. I could feel all the energy, thoughts and prayers coming my way. I was told by spiritual teachers that students need to learn such disciplines when there are no demands, or big stresses, then when life brings struggle and difficulty, one can lean on already established practices that open the self to grace, to love, to strength and comfort. Of course I didn't quite believe them, especially when struggling to sit still, ignore racing thoughts, itches and tingles, arms or legs falling asleep. At first after five minutes I'd give up in a huff. Gradually, though, I experienced the truth of their teaching. I wouldn't be facing this challenge, with such humor and grace, without those life balancing practices and disciplines. I know my journey is still in the beginning stages, but I trust more than I doubt, so all will be well in my soul, even if not in my body or in the world. Trust me, this statement took a LONG time, and lots of experiences to be able to say!
Joyfully,
Sharon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence. " Helen Keller
Good days give you happiness.
Bad days give you experience.
Both are essential to life. unknown author
Dr Degreen, oncologist, gave me good news and bad news. Good: he could not feel the abdomen tumor anymore. Bad: since there was a gut tumor involved it automatically makes the lymphoma stage 4. So I will get the complete 'sledghammer' for all chemo treatments. The bad news was a downer, until I realized he knew this all along. My reaction was fresh. I settled knowing stage 4 doesn't change the outcome. DeGreen is very confident the chemo will put the cancer into complete remission.
I shouldn't have any new side effects, just more of the same: constipation, sore mouth, tongue and throat, sore scalp, fatigue, bone pain, and low white count. Side effects won't worsen, except for fatigue as this chemo is very hard on the body.
Last night I went to bed early, but had trouble falling asleep. Guess I slept too much during chemo infusion. While laying there, awake, bored, I talked to my body parts. "Wash out the guinea pigs, dear spleen and colon, they want to go!"..."work hard, girls (bladder and kidneys), flush out the chemo." ...."okay all, (stomach, intestines, skin, eyes, throat) let's work together with the chemo so it can do the job, and let's not over react." I blessed my whole digestive tract, trying to ignore the simmering cauldron feel going on inside. I'm prone to fear so every pain, gas bump, gurgle or twizzle tempted me to worry over gastric explosions, tumors and blockages. It didn't help that I watched 'House' last night, an episode of a patient with rupturing spleen and bladder!
Instead of following the fear, I began thanking my body for doing the hard work of moving things along. The gurgles came so often, my thank-you became a non-stop mantra! Then I started to doubt the wisdom of preloading with laxatives. I asked God for "a pinch off the daily loaf", but sometimes I don't trust enough and try to help God along. Of course, I'll be sorry if there's a whole loaf explosion, but I'd rather be yeasty bread boiling over the bowl than a solid lump of dough that just sits there defying one's baking abilities. My image of God used to be so harsh and condemning. I'm grateful I seldom feel condemned in my blunders now; God and I just laugh together a lot. And I do learn from my mistakes.
I finally fell asleep; no explosions woke me up. This morning I still feel plugged, the grumblings are my guts trying to work. I'm eyeing the Milk of Magnesia/Sennecot bottles again. Trust or trust with help? Ah, such a discernment question!!
Whenever I wash my hands and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I see trampy red 'chemo blush' cheeks and bald head. What a sight! I look like a body pumped full of chemicals. Isn't chemo bad enough without the red dye added to one drug? I assume it's dye; can't imagine it comes red naturally. The huge syringe of red did look rather festive, matching the sparkly red Valentine garland wrapped around my IV pole. Doesn't look as festive when peeing red and seeing red. It's like eating 1000 red beets in one day! Knowing my avoidance of food colorings, preservatives and genetically modified foods, I grin at how ironic my treatment is: chemotherapy, complete with red dye and tons of support drugs, immunotherapy with mouse antibodies.
I've always thought of my body as sensitive and allergic. I avoid drugs as much as possible. I used to think I'd rather die than go through chemo. Thinking I didn't have a strong will to live and chemo suffering would be worse than death. Granted, my cancer is highly treatable, and I am profoundly touched by journeys far more serious and difficult than mine, yet my perspective is changing. I have such trust in Dr. DeGreen, in his recommendations. Such gratitude for the positive energy, kind, caring nurses and staff at the Lancaster Cancer Center. I'm surprised at my gratitude in not having time to process my diagnosis, or choose or think about alternative cancer treatments. I felt so carried by God through the tumultuous partial bowel blockage, the diagnosis and fast response by doctors/surgeons in keeping the system moving for me, getting chemo started to avoid bowel surgery. I was simply given an invitation to trust, and I did so instead of being my usual fearful and skeptical. What a gift, meeting so many kind, attentive doctors and non-knife happy surgeons! The only thing I did during that time of trust was say to God, "With your help, I seek and attract kind, excellent medical professionals who will partner with me to heal my body." This experience is changing my view of myself, my body. I am a lot stronger than I thought, body, mind and soul. I am truly 'fearfully and wonderfully' made, a miracle of adaptation and healing. The Intelligence that created the body, heals the body.
On a more contemplative note, I'm glad I learned Centering Prayer and meditation at Kairos school. Meditation was the hardest practice. It seemed so utterly pointless, so counter culture, unproductive and foolish. But after five years of practice I can truthfully say, there is nothing better for me than meditation and contemplative prayer. It has long stopped being a discipline. Such times of quietly opening myself to Life draws me, pulls me toward greater love and joy. I don't have to form words, or produce, or perform. All I have to do is quiet my mind, sit in stillness and open myself to Love, to God, to Christ, to the Creator, the Intelligence of the Cosmos.
While receiving chemo I listened to guided imagery CDs and drifted in and out of sleep, of Centering Prayer. It was lovely feeling so calm, centered, surrounded by love and healing. I could feel all the energy, thoughts and prayers coming my way. I was told by spiritual teachers that students need to learn such disciplines when there are no demands, or big stresses, then when life brings struggle and difficulty, one can lean on already established practices that open the self to grace, to love, to strength and comfort. Of course I didn't quite believe them, especially when struggling to sit still, ignore racing thoughts, itches and tingles, arms or legs falling asleep. At first after five minutes I'd give up in a huff. Gradually, though, I experienced the truth of their teaching. I wouldn't be facing this challenge, with such humor and grace, without those life balancing practices and disciplines. I know my journey is still in the beginning stages, but I trust more than I doubt, so all will be well in my soul, even if not in my body or in the world. Trust me, this statement took a LONG time, and lots of experiences to be able to say!
Joyfully,
Sharon
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence. " Helen Keller
Good days give you happiness.
Bad days give you experience.
Both are essential to life. unknown author
"Ask for a 'pinch off the daily loaf.' " (rich) "Huh?" (sharon) "You know, you asked for manna, so this is manna moving." (rich) "Oh!!! That's rich!" (sharon) "I expect you to use it in your blog." (rich)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Chemo Day #2 1-27-09
Tuesday, January 27, 2009 Chemo Day #2
I awaken from a deep sleep, rub my eyes, automatically scratch my itchy head, surprised when fingers touch a soft hat instead of hair. I love these moments of precious oblivion! I am not sad when reality hits; rather I smile over the gift of forgetfulness, no longer berating myself for such absent-mindedness.
When reality comes, it comes with a tinge of apprehension, mixed with eagerness and determination. (Let’s get this over with, and say goodbye to more guinea pigs!) Today is Chemo Day. I will see Dr. DeGreen, oncologist, before chemo is started. Will I get to ask all my questions? Will they use my newly installed chest port, with fresh scar and black and blue skin? Since the tumor shrank so fast, will I be given the Ball Peen hammer instead of the Sledgehammer, or if I’m really lucky - Mini-Mite?
I sit by my window awaiting the sun rise, meditating, thinking positive, embracing the day and all it holds. I sip my coffee and eat with reverence, yes oat bran, power pudding, and miralax can be eaten with reverence, being wiser this time to get a jump start on the chemo induced clogging! I know this may be the last food I’ll enjoy without a sore mouth for awhile. And, I pray.
Loving Spirit thanks for comforting me with words from Psalm 67:
Abandoning ourselves into the
Heart of Love,
we need not worry or fret; for
Love’s grace abides wherever we are.
In Love let us make our home.
God of life, Breath of my breath, Christ within me, around me, above me and below me, I come with simple, but specific requests. If a child asks for bread, you will not give them a stone, if a fish, not a snake, so I ask for deep, healing sleep this week, for nourishment, for a ‘pinch off the daily loaf’, -which is manna and movement of manna through me- as my body recovers from chemo. I ask for endurance, patience, Presence, and healing. I ask for the ability to flow around obstacles rather than fight them, just as gently as water in my beloved farm brook flows around rocks and logs. Let me float in the warm water of Love, until I become one with the water.
I will envision the Spirit joining the chemo as it enters my body; together human healing and Divine healing will flow through me companioning, complimenting each other, healing me and protecting tender parts. It will be my second prayer for the day as I abandon myself, with gratitude, into Healing and Love.
Joyfully,
Sharon
Quotes:
I arise at dawn with a winged heart and give things for another day of loving.
-Kahlil Gibran
Isn’t it a splendid thing that there are mornings? - Anne of Green Gables
I thank you God for this most amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and for a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes! - e.e. cummings
I awaken from a deep sleep, rub my eyes, automatically scratch my itchy head, surprised when fingers touch a soft hat instead of hair. I love these moments of precious oblivion! I am not sad when reality hits; rather I smile over the gift of forgetfulness, no longer berating myself for such absent-mindedness.
When reality comes, it comes with a tinge of apprehension, mixed with eagerness and determination. (Let’s get this over with, and say goodbye to more guinea pigs!) Today is Chemo Day. I will see Dr. DeGreen, oncologist, before chemo is started. Will I get to ask all my questions? Will they use my newly installed chest port, with fresh scar and black and blue skin? Since the tumor shrank so fast, will I be given the Ball Peen hammer instead of the Sledgehammer, or if I’m really lucky - Mini-Mite?
I sit by my window awaiting the sun rise, meditating, thinking positive, embracing the day and all it holds. I sip my coffee and eat with reverence, yes oat bran, power pudding, and miralax can be eaten with reverence, being wiser this time to get a jump start on the chemo induced clogging! I know this may be the last food I’ll enjoy without a sore mouth for awhile. And, I pray.
Loving Spirit thanks for comforting me with words from Psalm 67:
Abandoning ourselves into the
Heart of Love,
we need not worry or fret; for
Love’s grace abides wherever we are.
In Love let us make our home.
God of life, Breath of my breath, Christ within me, around me, above me and below me, I come with simple, but specific requests. If a child asks for bread, you will not give them a stone, if a fish, not a snake, so I ask for deep, healing sleep this week, for nourishment, for a ‘pinch off the daily loaf’, -which is manna and movement of manna through me- as my body recovers from chemo. I ask for endurance, patience, Presence, and healing. I ask for the ability to flow around obstacles rather than fight them, just as gently as water in my beloved farm brook flows around rocks and logs. Let me float in the warm water of Love, until I become one with the water.
I will envision the Spirit joining the chemo as it enters my body; together human healing and Divine healing will flow through me companioning, complimenting each other, healing me and protecting tender parts. It will be my second prayer for the day as I abandon myself, with gratitude, into Healing and Love.
Joyfully,
Sharon
Quotes:
I arise at dawn with a winged heart and give things for another day of loving.
-Kahlil Gibran
Isn’t it a splendid thing that there are mornings? - Anne of Green Gables
I thank you God for this most amazing day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and for a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes! - e.e. cummings
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Guess we both process life through writing
Mom,
I wrote this yesterday, I hope it doesn't make you sad.
Love you,
Steph
January 24, 2009
She asks me to,
I say ‘okay’,
Stand behind, clippers in hand,
Looking at her hair, short but still there.
‘It will feel better when it’s gone’
She says bravely.
I flip the switch,
the clipper hums to life,
A path of stubble left behind,
As the hair falls around her shoulders.
‘Save some pieces’ she says,
I gather them up,
Like precious treasures
And lay them on the table.
My hands smooth her bristly scalp,
Brushing away the loose fuzz.
She smiles through her sadness,
Asks “Do I look awful?”
Dad smiles, says ‘it could be worse.’
I clean up the brown locks on the floor,
Contemplating the new look,
My Mom, shaved bald.
Never had I imagined,
My hands, her hair.
Cancer changes everything.
I wrote this yesterday, I hope it doesn't make you sad.
Love you,
Steph
January 24, 2009
She asks me to,
I say ‘okay’,
Stand behind, clippers in hand,
Looking at her hair, short but still there.
‘It will feel better when it’s gone’
She says bravely.
I flip the switch,
the clipper hums to life,
A path of stubble left behind,
As the hair falls around her shoulders.
‘Save some pieces’ she says,
I gather them up,
Like precious treasures
And lay them on the table.
My hands smooth her bristly scalp,
Brushing away the loose fuzz.
She smiles through her sadness,
Asks “Do I look awful?”
Dad smiles, says ‘it could be worse.’
I clean up the brown locks on the floor,
Contemplating the new look,
My Mom, shaved bald.
Never had I imagined,
My hands, her hair.
Cancer changes everything.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Bald and Happy Saturday 1-24-09
It’s official. I’m bald now, except for the prick of stubble Stephanie’s clippers left on my head. Jay cheerfully documented the clipping and I almost cried after looking at the digital photos. I did see square this time, maybe not a square head, but definitely a square jaw with more wrinkles than I thought I possessed. The image was a bit much and won’t be publicly shared. Not yet. I’m not THAT brave!
Just when I was starting to like my crew cut, my head began getting sore, waking me up at night, itchy and stinging. My hair was coming out with every shampoo and touch of a comb. It seemed logical to get rid of the hair and soak my head in anti-itch shampoo. I saved the teeny clumps this time. They all fit in a very small plastic container. What a sad, pathetic little pile of hair, like Stephanie clipped a mouse!
Except for black and blue skin over the newly installed mediport, an itchy scalp and a touch of sniffles and asthma, I’ve had a great week, happily visiting family, doing school work, house work, running errands, gratefully and thoroughly enjoying these good days, getting done what needs to be done before chemo on Tuesday. I must add another activity to the list: enjoying EATING again! I also had a follow-up with the GI doc this week. On exam, Dr Lazereth couldn't feel the tumor in my abdomen anymore. The first chemo did a good job! I'm not so afraid to eat and am enjoying salads, rice and beans, whole milks and yogurts. They all taste so extravagant, even decadent. I finally had that Christmas cookie I’ve been waiting for….a huge gluten-free gingerbread man dunked in hot water. Delicious!!
Judy took me to try on wigs at the American Cancer Society center the day after mediport surgery. I was allowed to pick three items. Free! Frugal that I am, even free didn't keep me from dreading the morning. The women at the center were so cheerful and positive; it wasn't as overwhelming as I expected. We had fun! We laughed hysterically at my face under a punk rocker ‘do’, black hair with spikes of blonde and red. After many tries and much laughter, I chose one brown haired wig and two hats. I still want to find a wig that is more my natural hair color: whitish, brownish, blondish. Should be easy with such an accurate description and with showing the wig shop stylist my mouse-sized container of hair bits!
I'm so grateful that I haven't caught any flu bugs, or stomach viruses. I'm grateful for the lovely weather this week, and all the walks in the great outdoors. I'm humbled and grateful for all the love and support of friends and family, even strangers! Cards, gifts, DVDs, meals and visits are still coming. My sisters and their daughters with my five little nieces, nephews and my sweet little grand daughter arrived for a visit yesterday. The kids played at my house. What a joy! Okay, there was a bit of a headache from all the bedlam, but the pleasure was worth the noise.
I do feel incredibly blessed! God is good and all is well in my world. I leave you with a poem I wrote after a brisk walk in our farm fields…
What is lovelier than deep green grasses
frozen in their lushness
against a wide expanse of crystal, luminous snow?
Than a warm, white barn, silver capped silos
against a pale blue sky reflecting the blush of setting sun?
What is bitterer than biting cold
chilling the fingers
invading scarves and hoods, thieving warmth?
Than wearing sunglasses from a beloved, confused
mother, who's oblivious to the transfer of ownership?
What is cozier than a dog curled,
tail around toes
in a fenced-in yard kissed by winter sunshine?
Than a brisk walk down the pasture after being cooped up indoors,
or the delightful song of a grand daughter on your phone?
What is messier than a dog yard strewn with
sleeping mats and soiled bedding straw?
Than depression, or grief, or storms, or the loss of a friend?
Than newly fallen snow pot marked with muddy boot prints,
or a pristine, white winter field spread with dank, smelly cow manure?
What is Alzheimer’s without unconditional love,
death without eternity,
cancer without soup, cards and laughter?
What is love without sacrifice, passion, bafflement, tenderness?
What is God without opulent expressions of created beings?
Just when I was starting to like my crew cut, my head began getting sore, waking me up at night, itchy and stinging. My hair was coming out with every shampoo and touch of a comb. It seemed logical to get rid of the hair and soak my head in anti-itch shampoo. I saved the teeny clumps this time. They all fit in a very small plastic container. What a sad, pathetic little pile of hair, like Stephanie clipped a mouse!
Except for black and blue skin over the newly installed mediport, an itchy scalp and a touch of sniffles and asthma, I’ve had a great week, happily visiting family, doing school work, house work, running errands, gratefully and thoroughly enjoying these good days, getting done what needs to be done before chemo on Tuesday. I must add another activity to the list: enjoying EATING again! I also had a follow-up with the GI doc this week. On exam, Dr Lazereth couldn't feel the tumor in my abdomen anymore. The first chemo did a good job! I'm not so afraid to eat and am enjoying salads, rice and beans, whole milks and yogurts. They all taste so extravagant, even decadent. I finally had that Christmas cookie I’ve been waiting for….a huge gluten-free gingerbread man dunked in hot water. Delicious!!
Judy took me to try on wigs at the American Cancer Society center the day after mediport surgery. I was allowed to pick three items. Free! Frugal that I am, even free didn't keep me from dreading the morning. The women at the center were so cheerful and positive; it wasn't as overwhelming as I expected. We had fun! We laughed hysterically at my face under a punk rocker ‘do’, black hair with spikes of blonde and red. After many tries and much laughter, I chose one brown haired wig and two hats. I still want to find a wig that is more my natural hair color: whitish, brownish, blondish. Should be easy with such an accurate description and with showing the wig shop stylist my mouse-sized container of hair bits!
I'm so grateful that I haven't caught any flu bugs, or stomach viruses. I'm grateful for the lovely weather this week, and all the walks in the great outdoors. I'm humbled and grateful for all the love and support of friends and family, even strangers! Cards, gifts, DVDs, meals and visits are still coming. My sisters and their daughters with my five little nieces, nephews and my sweet little grand daughter arrived for a visit yesterday. The kids played at my house. What a joy! Okay, there was a bit of a headache from all the bedlam, but the pleasure was worth the noise.
I do feel incredibly blessed! God is good and all is well in my world. I leave you with a poem I wrote after a brisk walk in our farm fields…
What is lovelier than deep green grasses
frozen in their lushness
against a wide expanse of crystal, luminous snow?
Than a warm, white barn, silver capped silos
against a pale blue sky reflecting the blush of setting sun?
What is bitterer than biting cold
chilling the fingers
invading scarves and hoods, thieving warmth?
Than wearing sunglasses from a beloved, confused
mother, who's oblivious to the transfer of ownership?
What is cozier than a dog curled,
tail around toes
in a fenced-in yard kissed by winter sunshine?
Than a brisk walk down the pasture after being cooped up indoors,
or the delightful song of a grand daughter on your phone?
What is messier than a dog yard strewn with
sleeping mats and soiled bedding straw?
Than depression, or grief, or storms, or the loss of a friend?
Than newly fallen snow pot marked with muddy boot prints,
or a pristine, white winter field spread with dank, smelly cow manure?
What is Alzheimer’s without unconditional love,
death without eternity,
cancer without soup, cards and laughter?
What is love without sacrifice, passion, bafflement, tenderness?
What is God without opulent expressions of created beings?
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