This year I placed both of my electric candles in the kitchen window, plugged them in, and decided to leave them on 24/7. Something about this year's Christmas season seems to call for something beyond our normal activities. I sense it everywhere I go. I find it difficult to believe that I am the only one who seeks more from this year. Perhaps all of us are tired of the economic falderal and the downsizing of life. Maybe this year we crave not the shopping and the glare of harsh neon, but the true down to earth basics of love and goodwill.
Oh, I have heard stories of bad behavior among shoppers. But what I see more of this year than in previous years is that desire to reconnect with people who are part of your sphere. To spend time with family and friends, to "do" the traditional actions of decorating a tree and hanging lights not because you have to, but because you want to spend time with people doing something memorable. Even Rahway Street, the icon of miniature golf course decor, has engaged more homes in the display of lights this year - and with less of that commercial 'my lights are bigger than your lights' attitude.
We want to go back to the good old days when life was enjoyable and one could actually retire in peace and the children all came for the day to see the grandparents. We want to move past the uncertainty of the times, beyond the bad job market and the instability of an unpredictable future. And the only way we know of to accomplish that is to hang more lights. Blot out the darkness.
Let the soft glow of colored lights bring us some small measure of vision in the dark times. Let the consolation of connection with loved ones (and yes, even the not so loved ones) assuage our fear of finding ourselves left out in the dark while the rest of the world is inside celebrating. Let the love of Christ pour over us now in the same powerful way that it did so many years ago in a little town, in a stable, in a manger.
Yes, I shall leave my 2 lighted candles on for the duration. Every time I come home, they cheer me up. Every time I leave home, they give me strength to face whatever I am doing. In the middle of the night when I wake, the soft glow of the candles comforts my heart and dispels any disturbing dreams. May the lights at your house do so too.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Winter Fog
Swaddled. Isn't that a peculiar word? Sort of a combination of cuddled and swathed. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the verb "to swaddle" as "To wrap round with bandages; to envelop with wrappings; to swathe, bandage." Mostly the reference people know is about Jesus in the manger being wrapped in swaddling clothes, but the more common usage is to swaddle a corpse with linen cloths. How apropos. It is also used to describe dressing a wound. Hum.
All that to say that the world this morning is swaddled in fog. The air is fuzzy and out of focus. It's enough to give you a headache. Sometimes it is a comfort to be enclosed and covered with the soft white mist. Other times it feels very restrictive. One wants to know what is coming! I suppose for a baby fresh from the confines of the womb, it is comforting to feel the closeness of swaddling cloths. Helps them know the boundaries and that they are not adrift in a huge unknown.
It doesn't take long before you want to be able to move your arms and legs, before you long to bust out of the confines of the swaddling clothes the better to explore the wide and wonderful world. Maybe that's where it hits for the corpse. Longing to slip the confines of this earth for wider spaces. Wanting the fog of this world to be lifted to reveal the eternal. To explore the wide and wonderful beyond.
At any rate, Sugar and I both agree that we want to get back inside out of the damp swirling fog. Neither of us expected such weather in late November. Winter is certainly acting oddly this year.
All that to say that the world this morning is swaddled in fog. The air is fuzzy and out of focus. It's enough to give you a headache. Sometimes it is a comfort to be enclosed and covered with the soft white mist. Other times it feels very restrictive. One wants to know what is coming! I suppose for a baby fresh from the confines of the womb, it is comforting to feel the closeness of swaddling cloths. Helps them know the boundaries and that they are not adrift in a huge unknown.
It doesn't take long before you want to be able to move your arms and legs, before you long to bust out of the confines of the swaddling clothes the better to explore the wide and wonderful world. Maybe that's where it hits for the corpse. Longing to slip the confines of this earth for wider spaces. Wanting the fog of this world to be lifted to reveal the eternal. To explore the wide and wonderful beyond.
At any rate, Sugar and I both agree that we want to get back inside out of the damp swirling fog. Neither of us expected such weather in late November. Winter is certainly acting oddly this year.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Back to Work
Monday. After a holiday and a break. I expect it will be busy, but the parking lot is half empty. Perhaps students have delayed returning, unwilling to give up their relaxation time - or not eager to jump back into assignments and paperwriting. Several staff are still out, some not feeling well, others not back yet.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the morning is quiet. I get a few questions at the reference desk, nothing earth shattering. I catch up with email, always a task needing attention.
I change the liturgical decor in my office since I was not there the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when we normally make that change. I like my tapestry of the annunciation and my nativity snow globe. Next week I will move to the actual nativity tapestry too, but I don't want to miss the importance of Mary's acquiescence even though that was some nine months ago.
And so the day unwinds, slowly and lethargically like honey that refuses to come out of the bottle. I kind of like easing back into things gently. A nice relief from the usual jolt.
I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the morning is quiet. I get a few questions at the reference desk, nothing earth shattering. I catch up with email, always a task needing attention.
I change the liturgical decor in my office since I was not there the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when we normally make that change. I like my tapestry of the annunciation and my nativity snow globe. Next week I will move to the actual nativity tapestry too, but I don't want to miss the importance of Mary's acquiescence even though that was some nine months ago.
And so the day unwinds, slowly and lethargically like honey that refuses to come out of the bottle. I kind of like easing back into things gently. A nice relief from the usual jolt.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Carting About
I have delayed getting groceries because of the chemo hangover. But I must take care of things before school starts back up for Drew. After church, I am already done in tired, and I manage to rest a bit and eat delicious left overs for lunch while waiting for Drew to return from church. He brings me an Advent wreath he made in church. He did a nice job. We put it on the kitchen table and admire his handiwork. Usually we purchase a real pine wreath for the scent, but this works just fine.
He is eager to get to Wegmans. The list is ready, he jumps in the drivers seat - to spare me the energy drain, of course - and off we go. He is quite solicitous of my well being. He selects a large cart and politely maneuvers it so I can take over. I lean heavily on the handle. I man the list, and Drew makes the side trips, fetching this and that while I navigate a straight course through the store. I know my strength will last only so long. I move slowly, trying to stay out of people's way. The store is not too crowded. I suspect the main force already moved through a bit earlier.
Our cart fills gradually. Drew is into cooking this year. Chocolate chip cookies seem to be at the top of his list. He would also like to learn how to make bread, something I once did regularly when the boys were little. I got to be pretty decent at it. We search for yeast. Who would have thought to look near the cheese refrigerator case? I thought for sure the baking aisle. But we have it now. Only two more things to get. I am beginning to fade.
I need a large mailer envelope and a windshield scraper. Mine from last year disappeared. I might have tossed the darn thing because it didn't work very well. I decide not to bother. I am too worn out to handle a trip to Target for these two items. Drew senses my distress. He runs ahead to open the car door so I can sit down while he loads the groceries in the trunk. I recover enough to be able to manage sitting in the car a few more minutes while he runs in to Target for the last 2 items. He calls me to tell me the options.
At last he pulls into our parking space. It takes me a good ten minutes to crawl out of the car and up the stairs. I feel like an old woman. I know this will pass. It always does. I sit while Drew brings everything inside. What would I do without him? Plan ahead better! After a bit my energy returns. I can help put things away, but then I am done for the day. Drew makes dinner. I would have just gone to bed. Good thing tomorrow is another day away from the chemo and I will be in a better place. God is good. All shall be well and all shall be well and all things shall be well.
He is eager to get to Wegmans. The list is ready, he jumps in the drivers seat - to spare me the energy drain, of course - and off we go. He is quite solicitous of my well being. He selects a large cart and politely maneuvers it so I can take over. I lean heavily on the handle. I man the list, and Drew makes the side trips, fetching this and that while I navigate a straight course through the store. I know my strength will last only so long. I move slowly, trying to stay out of people's way. The store is not too crowded. I suspect the main force already moved through a bit earlier.
Our cart fills gradually. Drew is into cooking this year. Chocolate chip cookies seem to be at the top of his list. He would also like to learn how to make bread, something I once did regularly when the boys were little. I got to be pretty decent at it. We search for yeast. Who would have thought to look near the cheese refrigerator case? I thought for sure the baking aisle. But we have it now. Only two more things to get. I am beginning to fade.
I need a large mailer envelope and a windshield scraper. Mine from last year disappeared. I might have tossed the darn thing because it didn't work very well. I decide not to bother. I am too worn out to handle a trip to Target for these two items. Drew senses my distress. He runs ahead to open the car door so I can sit down while he loads the groceries in the trunk. I recover enough to be able to manage sitting in the car a few more minutes while he runs in to Target for the last 2 items. He calls me to tell me the options.
At last he pulls into our parking space. It takes me a good ten minutes to crawl out of the car and up the stairs. I feel like an old woman. I know this will pass. It always does. I sit while Drew brings everything inside. What would I do without him? Plan ahead better! After a bit my energy returns. I can help put things away, but then I am done for the day. Drew makes dinner. I would have just gone to bed. Good thing tomorrow is another day away from the chemo and I will be in a better place. God is good. All shall be well and all shall be well and all things shall be well.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
The Paper
No matter how I feel today, the paper is due. I must complete it. Fortunately, I created an outline and sketched in some thoughts before the chemo just in case I ended up with chemobrain too badly. I look at what is there. This will work. I have all day. Surely I can manage 2400 words by midnight.
But papers don't write themselves. I struggle to push into words thoughts that are still foggy and unclear. I am out of my element writing about Islam. I don't know anyone of that faith, so I have no idea how to hold a discussion of beliefs with someone who is Muslim. I write a page, reread, delete and begin again. It all sounds so artificial. I immerse myself in the readings. It makes sense when I read about it. But can I discuss it with any sense of integrity? I try again. Again I delete and start over.
Some papers are more challenging. They say to write about what you know and have experienced, and I see that this is my issue. So I just begin there. I don't know anyone of the Muslim faith. Perhaps that is my fault for not seeking them out. Regardless, here is what I understand of their beliefs from the readings, and here is where we agree. This is where we disagree.
I worry over it all day like a dog with a tough bone. Finally I am out of time and patience. I just want to get this darn thing off my computer and safely uploaded to the professor's class site. I suppose I could make some chemo excuse, except that chemo is not the reason this isn't my best work. Sigh. Sometimes you just have to take your lumps.
But papers don't write themselves. I struggle to push into words thoughts that are still foggy and unclear. I am out of my element writing about Islam. I don't know anyone of that faith, so I have no idea how to hold a discussion of beliefs with someone who is Muslim. I write a page, reread, delete and begin again. It all sounds so artificial. I immerse myself in the readings. It makes sense when I read about it. But can I discuss it with any sense of integrity? I try again. Again I delete and start over.
Some papers are more challenging. They say to write about what you know and have experienced, and I see that this is my issue. So I just begin there. I don't know anyone of the Muslim faith. Perhaps that is my fault for not seeking them out. Regardless, here is what I understand of their beliefs from the readings, and here is where we agree. This is where we disagree.
I worry over it all day like a dog with a tough bone. Finally I am out of time and patience. I just want to get this darn thing off my computer and safely uploaded to the professor's class site. I suppose I could make some chemo excuse, except that chemo is not the reason this isn't my best work. Sigh. Sometimes you just have to take your lumps.
Friday, November 25, 2011
Black Friday
There is no way I will go anywhere near a mall today. In fact, since my chemo has hit royally, there is no way I am going anywhere at all today. Drew wants to spend some time with friends and asks me to drive him there. I look at him like he has lost all his marbles. You got to be kidding. His face falls. He disappears. I hate this stuff. He shouldn't have to give up seeing friends just because I feel horrible. But there is no way. I can barely manage to sit in a chair.
Drew returns. His friend's Mom will pick him up today if I will come and get him tomorrow. I hesitate. Will I be up to it tomorrow? I hate to commit and then have to renege. But his pleading eyes are hard to resist. OK. I will do my best. I am not sure about this at all. Besides, I know he has not done his homework yet. STOP! He is an adult. You cannot force him into making the right decisions. You will be lucky to prevent him from making damaging ones.
He dances off in glee to get ready. I realize this means another day alone and that I will have to somehow find the strength to walk Sugar. I ask Drew to take her out one last time before he leaves, but his ride has arrived and he doesn't want to make them wait. Sigh. Its good for me to have to make myself move when I have no energy. That's why I got the dog in the first place. Remember? Right.
Moving is better than not moving. As a faculty colleague of mine says, "As long as you can move, you will be OK." OK is good. It doesn't get the paper written, but its still good. Keep me going, Julian. “All shall be well. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.”
Drew returns. His friend's Mom will pick him up today if I will come and get him tomorrow. I hesitate. Will I be up to it tomorrow? I hate to commit and then have to renege. But his pleading eyes are hard to resist. OK. I will do my best. I am not sure about this at all. Besides, I know he has not done his homework yet. STOP! He is an adult. You cannot force him into making the right decisions. You will be lucky to prevent him from making damaging ones.
He dances off in glee to get ready. I realize this means another day alone and that I will have to somehow find the strength to walk Sugar. I ask Drew to take her out one last time before he leaves, but his ride has arrived and he doesn't want to make them wait. Sigh. Its good for me to have to make myself move when I have no energy. That's why I got the dog in the first place. Remember? Right.
Moving is better than not moving. As a faculty colleague of mine says, "As long as you can move, you will be OK." OK is good. It doesn't get the paper written, but its still good. Keep me going, Julian. “All shall be well. All shall be well. All manner of things shall be well.”
Thursday, November 24, 2011
The Day After
Not so bad. Really, I don't feel too bad. I wonder if the steroids are helping. I don't rush about rising. Drew is going to visit his brother and father and I know Sugar and I will be on our own. I am glad I will at least have the oompf to walk her when she needs it.
I do have a paper to write, but I need to finish reading the material first (always advisable). So I curl up in the recliner with my books about me and begin to read. Some of the material is kind of prickly but I force myself to wade through it despite my opinions. Suddenly I nod myself back awake. I didn't even know I had drifted off. How wonderful to be drowsy and in a perfect place to snitch cap naps.
Must be time to warm a plate of food. I rumble about in the fridge, delighted to have so many tasty dishes to choose from. How kind of people to have sent casseroles. This makes it so easy. I bless my food and take my time eating. Then another little nap. I am still feeling OK. No pains, no overwhelming fatigue. Sugar and I take a walk. The weather is amazing for this time of year.
By the time I return to my chair, the exhaustion begins to take hold. I try to read. I have yet to get to the writing the paper part, and I realize I will not get there today. My grace is ending and the mack truck experience is beginning. I take Tylenol and give up on the recliner. This is a definite lie-down-on-the-bed thing. I am sad to leave behind the cheerful lights of my little Christmas tree, but I know I will drift off quickly.
I just hope Drew isn't too late getting home. Sugar will need to be walked again.
I do have a paper to write, but I need to finish reading the material first (always advisable). So I curl up in the recliner with my books about me and begin to read. Some of the material is kind of prickly but I force myself to wade through it despite my opinions. Suddenly I nod myself back awake. I didn't even know I had drifted off. How wonderful to be drowsy and in a perfect place to snitch cap naps.
Must be time to warm a plate of food. I rumble about in the fridge, delighted to have so many tasty dishes to choose from. How kind of people to have sent casseroles. This makes it so easy. I bless my food and take my time eating. Then another little nap. I am still feeling OK. No pains, no overwhelming fatigue. Sugar and I take a walk. The weather is amazing for this time of year.
By the time I return to my chair, the exhaustion begins to take hold. I try to read. I have yet to get to the writing the paper part, and I realize I will not get there today. My grace is ending and the mack truck experience is beginning. I take Tylenol and give up on the recliner. This is a definite lie-down-on-the-bed thing. I am sad to leave behind the cheerful lights of my little Christmas tree, but I know I will drift off quickly.
I just hope Drew isn't too late getting home. Sugar will need to be walked again.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Chemo
I procrastinate. I know I am doing it. I drag my feet, waste time, loiter over little details like walking the dog. I watch the clock ticking down. I have to leave. I don't want to be late. Do I? I rush to pack my big pink bag that Sherri gave me when round 2 began. I am comforted by her presence. You can't wait any longer. You have to leave NOW!
I force myself down the steps and out through the laundry room door. I flip the car unlocked and squint as the yellow lights blink. It isn't even early. Only 8:30 am. I nose out into traffic on 390 S. Today I am in no hurry. I refuse to exceed 55. Cars whizz by. I shake my head. Let them pass.
I check in to the reception area and for once end up sitting there awhile. The infusion center is abuzz with activity. I hadn't realized how crowded it would be today. It makes me more nervous than I already am. I give myself a stern talking to. Behave yourself. You are not a little girl. Act your age. I am braceleted, weighed, temperatured, blood pressured and ushered to the farthest possible pod where I have never been before. One nurses' aide going by tells my guide there are only 2 chairs left until they reach capacity.
I ask if its unusually busy. My friendly guide happily announces that there are over 140 of us in the clinic today. All hands are on deck. They have squeezed everyone in because of the holidays. She is not kidding. I panic that I might not get a window. How selfish of me. But God is with me and of the two remaining chairs, one is not only by a window, it is in a corner with 2 windows! And the other candidate does not want it! Yeah!
I immediately raise the blinds. Even though the scene outside is construction and the sky is gloomy and gray, I feel better. I am not in prison. How silly, but how important for me. My nurse is new to me. She tells me she will get to me as soon as she is done setting up her other patients. Two people are with the other new arrival, and they ask to take my extra chair since I don't have anyone with me.
I nod, smiling. How little they know. I do have someone with me. God is with me, but he doesn't need the chair. I settle in facing the great outdoors, plug in my iPhone and dial up St Olaf's media page. For the next hour I am blessed by their fall concert. I do not even notice how long it takes the nurse to get to me. Who cares? Maybe they will send me home free of chemo!
But no. The nurse finally enters my pod and asks me if I always have a reaction to the Rituxan. I say yes. She is surprised that they are not trying to prevent the reactions. She decides to talk with the charge nurse. They call my doctor and discuss how they might help me. There is another preventive drug they can add to my list of stuff. Maybe I will not have a reaction today. Isn't that interesting? Underneath the conversation I can almost see Jesus' smiling face. Once again I know the comfort of being in good hands, just like last night.
I dutifully swallow the cupful of Benedryl, Decadron, Tylenol, Pepcid. I ask the nurse to wait long enough for stuff to take effect, and to hang a simultaneous bag of fluid to thin out the Rituxan. She is happy to oblige. And so the drip begins. I select another service at St Olaf, then one at Duke University chapel. I am alone for long stretches, yet I am not alone. I am comforted.
People wander in and out offering me warm blankets, animal cookies, ginger ale. I gladly accept them all, then return to my uplifting music. I hit the ceiling of my endurance at 200, a notch above the usual 150. The reaction starts in my feet, then the neuropathy climbs my legs to my knees. I don't say anything. I want to be done and get out of here.
Then it hits my mouth and I know I cannot delay. I tell the nurse. Here we go with more IV Benedryl. Thank God I learned the trick of putting it in the IV fluid because the straight dope makes me pass out. We pause the Rituxan until the burning, swelling and itching subsides, then we back down to 150. I will have to be here awhile longer. Sigh. I turn to the St Olaf Vespers service. Time is immaterial now.
One by one, my pod mates complete their treatments and depart. Even the latecomer newbies are done and pack up to take off. The center quiets down, unwinding after a hectic day. I am impressed that the nurses handled it so well. I watch out the window as darkness falls, shrouding me in a cocoon of nightness.
And Then.
Then.
Then the choir sings this gorgeous song called Stay With Us from Egil Hovland's Captive and Free. (see the last 5 minutes of this) The words pour over me like a warm and soothing potion. From deep within my being, all the angst, the fear, the burden, the heartache of my entire lifetime cried out to God. I can feel it rising straight to heaven in a shaft of misery. In return I feel a ribbon of light and warmth tumbling back down, covering me, healing me, comforting me. It is almost unbearable it is so amazing.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.
Jesus Christ the world's true light.
Shine so the darkness cannot over come it.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus the night is falling.
Let your light pieerce the darkness and fill your church with its glory.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.
These are the words of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, talking with Jesus and not knowing it was him. Recognizing how they longed to be with him, urging him to stay with them (Luke 24). As the darkness fell and I became more alone in my isolated pod, as the bustle of life worked its way down the hall away from my place, the tears streamed down my face in total release of the weight I had been carrying. God's love washed over me, tender and caring. I felt loved beyond measure. You cannot imagine how the music and the love and the words and the darkness outside and the aloneness aligned in one amazing heartlifting moment caressed by His presence.
Nothing else mattered. It was all true, what the song said. I knew it. I felt it. I pressed repeat over and over again until all the tears were cried, until all the heartache was eased, until I was at total peace. It was the primal cry of my being. God, don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Stay here. Stay here with me. Please. I took a deep breath for the first time in days.
And just as suddenly as the Holy Spirit appeared, my world returned to normal. The nurse came to tell me I was done and remove my hook up. One bandaid later I gathered my things and began the long trek down the darkened hall and into the glaring light of the parking garage where I climbed into my car and started the engine.
Stay with us. Stay with me. You will never leave me or forsake me. You are with me always even to the end of my world. Be with those who watch and weep and wait through the long hours of the dark night and comfort them with your eternal light. Stay with me, Lord. I know you will. You promised.
I force myself down the steps and out through the laundry room door. I flip the car unlocked and squint as the yellow lights blink. It isn't even early. Only 8:30 am. I nose out into traffic on 390 S. Today I am in no hurry. I refuse to exceed 55. Cars whizz by. I shake my head. Let them pass.
I check in to the reception area and for once end up sitting there awhile. The infusion center is abuzz with activity. I hadn't realized how crowded it would be today. It makes me more nervous than I already am. I give myself a stern talking to. Behave yourself. You are not a little girl. Act your age. I am braceleted, weighed, temperatured, blood pressured and ushered to the farthest possible pod where I have never been before. One nurses' aide going by tells my guide there are only 2 chairs left until they reach capacity.
I ask if its unusually busy. My friendly guide happily announces that there are over 140 of us in the clinic today. All hands are on deck. They have squeezed everyone in because of the holidays. She is not kidding. I panic that I might not get a window. How selfish of me. But God is with me and of the two remaining chairs, one is not only by a window, it is in a corner with 2 windows! And the other candidate does not want it! Yeah!
I immediately raise the blinds. Even though the scene outside is construction and the sky is gloomy and gray, I feel better. I am not in prison. How silly, but how important for me. My nurse is new to me. She tells me she will get to me as soon as she is done setting up her other patients. Two people are with the other new arrival, and they ask to take my extra chair since I don't have anyone with me.
I nod, smiling. How little they know. I do have someone with me. God is with me, but he doesn't need the chair. I settle in facing the great outdoors, plug in my iPhone and dial up St Olaf's media page. For the next hour I am blessed by their fall concert. I do not even notice how long it takes the nurse to get to me. Who cares? Maybe they will send me home free of chemo!
But no. The nurse finally enters my pod and asks me if I always have a reaction to the Rituxan. I say yes. She is surprised that they are not trying to prevent the reactions. She decides to talk with the charge nurse. They call my doctor and discuss how they might help me. There is another preventive drug they can add to my list of stuff. Maybe I will not have a reaction today. Isn't that interesting? Underneath the conversation I can almost see Jesus' smiling face. Once again I know the comfort of being in good hands, just like last night.
I dutifully swallow the cupful of Benedryl, Decadron, Tylenol, Pepcid. I ask the nurse to wait long enough for stuff to take effect, and to hang a simultaneous bag of fluid to thin out the Rituxan. She is happy to oblige. And so the drip begins. I select another service at St Olaf, then one at Duke University chapel. I am alone for long stretches, yet I am not alone. I am comforted.
People wander in and out offering me warm blankets, animal cookies, ginger ale. I gladly accept them all, then return to my uplifting music. I hit the ceiling of my endurance at 200, a notch above the usual 150. The reaction starts in my feet, then the neuropathy climbs my legs to my knees. I don't say anything. I want to be done and get out of here.
Then it hits my mouth and I know I cannot delay. I tell the nurse. Here we go with more IV Benedryl. Thank God I learned the trick of putting it in the IV fluid because the straight dope makes me pass out. We pause the Rituxan until the burning, swelling and itching subsides, then we back down to 150. I will have to be here awhile longer. Sigh. I turn to the St Olaf Vespers service. Time is immaterial now.
One by one, my pod mates complete their treatments and depart. Even the latecomer newbies are done and pack up to take off. The center quiets down, unwinding after a hectic day. I am impressed that the nurses handled it so well. I watch out the window as darkness falls, shrouding me in a cocoon of nightness.
And Then.
Then.
Then the choir sings this gorgeous song called Stay With Us from Egil Hovland's Captive and Free. (see the last 5 minutes of this) The words pour over me like a warm and soothing potion. From deep within my being, all the angst, the fear, the burden, the heartache of my entire lifetime cried out to God. I can feel it rising straight to heaven in a shaft of misery. In return I feel a ribbon of light and warmth tumbling back down, covering me, healing me, comforting me. It is almost unbearable it is so amazing.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.
Jesus Christ the world's true light.
Shine so the darkness cannot over come it.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus the night is falling.
Let your light pieerce the darkness and fill your church with its glory.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
Stay with us, it soon is evening.
Stay with us, Lord Jesus, stay with us.
It soon is evening and night is falling.
These are the words of the disciples on the road to Emmaus, talking with Jesus and not knowing it was him. Recognizing how they longed to be with him, urging him to stay with them (Luke 24). As the darkness fell and I became more alone in my isolated pod, as the bustle of life worked its way down the hall away from my place, the tears streamed down my face in total release of the weight I had been carrying. God's love washed over me, tender and caring. I felt loved beyond measure. You cannot imagine how the music and the love and the words and the darkness outside and the aloneness aligned in one amazing heartlifting moment caressed by His presence.
Nothing else mattered. It was all true, what the song said. I knew it. I felt it. I pressed repeat over and over again until all the tears were cried, until all the heartache was eased, until I was at total peace. It was the primal cry of my being. God, don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Stay here. Stay here with me. Please. I took a deep breath for the first time in days.
And just as suddenly as the Holy Spirit appeared, my world returned to normal. The nurse came to tell me I was done and remove my hook up. One bandaid later I gathered my things and began the long trek down the darkened hall and into the glaring light of the parking garage where I climbed into my car and started the engine.
Stay with us. Stay with me. You will never leave me or forsake me. You are with me always even to the end of my world. Be with those who watch and weep and wait through the long hours of the dark night and comfort them with your eternal light. Stay with me, Lord. I know you will. You promised.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Getting Ready
I don't usually have such a difficult time thinking about getting a chemo treatment. I have been doing this for a long time. There is nothing unexpected, nothing all that big a deal. This will be my 16th round of Rituxan, and I still have 8 more to go over the next few years. But something inside will just not sit still.
I consider calling my pastor and asking for prayer. I mean to do it. I keep getting sidetracked. Besides, something inside keeps saying how silly it is and how unnecessary. After all, its not like I can't handle a little chemo. But I know deep inside that it is not a sign of weakness to ask for prayer. Of all people, I should know that.
I am sucked into one issue after another all day at work and by the time I am free, the day has ended and it is really too late to ask for a meeting. I know people are praying for me, and I decide to let that be enough. I could have called the pastor and had him pray for me over the phone, and I know the pastor would not have minded. But I am all out of sorts. What is wrong with me?
Maybe its because three friends of mine have lost their battle with cancer in the last few months. What if I am next? I have been holding on until Drew at least graduates from high school and he is getting close. What if I run out of time? This is not some silly game. This is for all the potatoes.
My friend once told me that I have every right to be distraught about having cancer. After all, what I am going through is not nice. I should be upset. True. I responded by saying that really, I had been through much worse and by comparison, this wasn't such a big deal. Also true. But by comparison with how things should be, its all out of whack.
I give myself permission to be distraught. Then I find I am too tired to be upset or angry or fearful or anything but tired. Maybe that's it. Maybe I am just worn out with having to intentionally make myself submit to these bouts of feeling horrible over and over.
I tumble into bed and just say, "Dear God - " That is as far as I can manage. Dear God. And in those two words, all the everything inside is said. At once I know he has heard and knows exactly what is what. I can rest. Its as simple as knowing that I am in good hands no matter what. I drift off to sleep. We will see what tomorrow brings.
I consider calling my pastor and asking for prayer. I mean to do it. I keep getting sidetracked. Besides, something inside keeps saying how silly it is and how unnecessary. After all, its not like I can't handle a little chemo. But I know deep inside that it is not a sign of weakness to ask for prayer. Of all people, I should know that.
I am sucked into one issue after another all day at work and by the time I am free, the day has ended and it is really too late to ask for a meeting. I know people are praying for me, and I decide to let that be enough. I could have called the pastor and had him pray for me over the phone, and I know the pastor would not have minded. But I am all out of sorts. What is wrong with me?
Maybe its because three friends of mine have lost their battle with cancer in the last few months. What if I am next? I have been holding on until Drew at least graduates from high school and he is getting close. What if I run out of time? This is not some silly game. This is for all the potatoes.
My friend once told me that I have every right to be distraught about having cancer. After all, what I am going through is not nice. I should be upset. True. I responded by saying that really, I had been through much worse and by comparison, this wasn't such a big deal. Also true. But by comparison with how things should be, its all out of whack.
I give myself permission to be distraught. Then I find I am too tired to be upset or angry or fearful or anything but tired. Maybe that's it. Maybe I am just worn out with having to intentionally make myself submit to these bouts of feeling horrible over and over.
I tumble into bed and just say, "Dear God - " That is as far as I can manage. Dear God. And in those two words, all the everything inside is said. At once I know he has heard and knows exactly what is what. I can rest. Its as simple as knowing that I am in good hands no matter what. I drift off to sleep. We will see what tomorrow brings.
Monday, November 21, 2011
Unexpected Bonus
Today I pulled back the curtain to water my Christmas cactus. I have had this particular plant for a long time - well, at least since after my first round of cancer. I have carted it around from Illinois to Connecticut to Rochester. I even have left it in my Mother's capable care during times of moving.
The poor little thing has never bloomed. It almost bloomed after Mom took care of it for a month or so. Actually had a few little buds on it. But as soon as I took it back, the buds fell off and nothing came of it. It has slowly grown, and I repotted it a couple of years ago. I mostly keep it in the window for the sun. After all, it is a cactus. And this is not much of a desert or hothouse.
It obliges by growing long dangling arms of green succulent plant with little spines here and there, but no flowers or buds. I chalked it up to the stress of the household or the fact that I somehow got either a male plant or a defective thing. Or I just don't have a green thumb. Or even a pale yellow one. No matter. I like the greenery and everything has it purpose.
Today, as I pulled the curtain aside, I was suddenly greeted by more vibrant huge pink flowers than I could take in. What on earth happened?? Astounded, I set down the watercan and gently pull the pot from the window. More blooms cascade from the window side of the terra cotta pot. I am overwhelmed. I cannot believe this dormant quiet little unproductive plant has suddenly produced so many beautiful blooms that it completely makes up for all the years of silence.
I call the kids to look. They are impressed. What did I do? Nothing. Nothing different from what I have always done! The plant just decided it was time. We admire the gorgeous blossoms until we finally have to tear ourselves away. I tuck the pot carefully back in the window sill and head out into the day totally blessed and smiling my silly head off. Who would have thought?
Sunday, November 20, 2011
I Am Thankful
I open my eyes and am glad to be alive. I stretch and immediately am thankful for my cozy comfortable bed (having slept in lumpy old bunks crammed with siblings where I was far from comfortable) and the warmth of my bedroom. Not so long ago I was in a home where there was no heat and it was c-o-l-d! And I remembered living at Charlie Lake in the winter when you had to use the outdoor facilities that were definitely not heated. I am so spoiled.
I am thankful I do not have to rush to work and do hard physical labor before breakfast (like when I visited at Gram's and the chickens had to be fed first). And how luxurious is a hot shower! Manys the time I have taken cold washcloth baths after carting gallon jugs of water from the mountain pipe down the road, pulling dozens of the heavy things in a little red wagon. Or stood in a pan and poured warmed water over myself, soaped up in the freezing air of the unheated house, then doused again to rinse. That's no fun.
I am thankful my house has no vermin or critters. My sister used to sleep with the dog even though she was no fan of dogs because it kept the mice from running over her bedcovers at night. And in the south, the inevitable cockroaches gave me the nervous willies. I love my warm flannel jammies and sheets - no need for hot water bottles to keep your toes from freezing with shock from touching frigid cloth.
I am blessed to have a closet full of clean clothing that I like. Stuff that fits, is my preferred color and style, and is NOT a hand-me-down. My shoes are perfect for my feet and don't give me blisters (unlike those blasted Salvation Army used shoes I had to wear when I was a kid), and my sweaters (plural) are warm warm warm. I love the smell of my shampoo and handsoap. I not only have food in my fridge, I have a fridge and not an ice cooler. Manys the time I have lived in a dumpy place where either there was no refrigerator or the electric was off. What a nuisance to have to buy ice and dump out stale water and hope to God the food isn't spoiled. And I have pans and a working stove to warm my delicious food, of which I can choose what I am in the mood for today.
I have a happy little doggie companion, a car that works well and is dependable and gets good mileage, a son who keeps me company, neighbors to chat with, a quiet peaceful neighborhood, and money in my wallet. Not a lot, but enough. I have a job thank God thank God - one I truly like and enjoy and find pleasure in doing with good people. I am free to come and go without being questioned and for the most part I am not in pain. At least not constantly. And I can get medicine when I need it.
I cannot even really begin to list the wonderful amazing blessings I enjoy on a regular basis. What's not to be thankful for? As Julian of Norwich once said, "…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." which translated means, Thank God, I am blessed.
I am thankful I do not have to rush to work and do hard physical labor before breakfast (like when I visited at Gram's and the chickens had to be fed first). And how luxurious is a hot shower! Manys the time I have taken cold washcloth baths after carting gallon jugs of water from the mountain pipe down the road, pulling dozens of the heavy things in a little red wagon. Or stood in a pan and poured warmed water over myself, soaped up in the freezing air of the unheated house, then doused again to rinse. That's no fun.
I am thankful my house has no vermin or critters. My sister used to sleep with the dog even though she was no fan of dogs because it kept the mice from running over her bedcovers at night. And in the south, the inevitable cockroaches gave me the nervous willies. I love my warm flannel jammies and sheets - no need for hot water bottles to keep your toes from freezing with shock from touching frigid cloth.
I am blessed to have a closet full of clean clothing that I like. Stuff that fits, is my preferred color and style, and is NOT a hand-me-down. My shoes are perfect for my feet and don't give me blisters (unlike those blasted Salvation Army used shoes I had to wear when I was a kid), and my sweaters (plural) are warm warm warm. I love the smell of my shampoo and handsoap. I not only have food in my fridge, I have a fridge and not an ice cooler. Manys the time I have lived in a dumpy place where either there was no refrigerator or the electric was off. What a nuisance to have to buy ice and dump out stale water and hope to God the food isn't spoiled. And I have pans and a working stove to warm my delicious food, of which I can choose what I am in the mood for today.
I have a happy little doggie companion, a car that works well and is dependable and gets good mileage, a son who keeps me company, neighbors to chat with, a quiet peaceful neighborhood, and money in my wallet. Not a lot, but enough. I have a job thank God thank God - one I truly like and enjoy and find pleasure in doing with good people. I am free to come and go without being questioned and for the most part I am not in pain. At least not constantly. And I can get medicine when I need it.
I cannot even really begin to list the wonderful amazing blessings I enjoy on a regular basis. What's not to be thankful for? As Julian of Norwich once said, "…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." which translated means, Thank God, I am blessed.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Thanksgiving Arrives Early
My wonderful church family is once again coming alongside me to offer meals and prayers while I undergo chemo next Wednesday - right before Thanksgiving. I am busy gearing up for this chemo, trying to get the house in order and take care of bills and papers for coursework, etc.
It never occurred to me to celebrate Thanksgiving early while I am still feeling well. I just fell into the trap of assuming that since I would be reeling from the treatment, I would lie low, sleep, and somehow manage to get through the day. But they suggested I consider celebrating with family today. If I was willing, they would bring a complete Thanksgiving dinner! Who could refuse such an amazing offer?
I invited Kiel and Andrea, and as an afterthought, also my sister who lives alone here in Rochester. I had a reference shift in the late afternoon and Kiel had work until about the same time. We both arrived home to an apartment filled with yummy smells and a plethora of pans brimming with holiday goodies. I almost feel guilty accepting such largess at the expense of someone else's labor. After all, I could have done this had I thought of it. I could have squeezed it in before the boom lowers.
Still, what an enjoyable evening we had. Good conversation, laughter, memories of past family events - while gathered around food which we could all thoroughly enjoy. We pulled one delightful dish after another from the warming oven - turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, gravy, home made rolls, sweet potato pie and cranberry relish. No one was shy. We lingered at table long after forks stopped moving.
Chairs would have been more comfortable in the living room, but no one wanted to move. No one wanted to leave the fellowship or break the good time we were having. After a bit, we thought of the pies - apple AND pumpkin! Can you imagine? How spoiled are we? We decide to wait a bit before indulging more, and finally wander into the living room where I ask for help in setting up my little Christmas tree (might as well get a head start on that holiday too!).
This year I am graduating to a one-person sized tree just large enough to hold the select ornaments I have gradually collected as children have moved out and taken their favorite ornaments with them. It goes up in a zip and then we watch the Veggie Tales Little Drummer Boy dvd until our dinner settles and we are ready for pie.
It felt just like Thanksgiving - a wonderful day filled with family and food and fellowship. Just right. I am surrounded with memories of past Thanksgivings where we met at Grandma's house and played with our cousins. Even Drew reminisced about the bit bowl of walnuts we used to have, and how he liked to crack them and pop them in his mouth. Good memories. I will not be sad at all or alone come the actual Thanksgiving Day when I will be home alone nursing a chemo hangover.
I am extremely grateful for the hands that prepared all the wonderful food we enjoyed and for the kind hearted people who recognized how important it was for us not to skip this important celebration. My heart is singing with happiness as I tuck the remains away for another day. Perhaps I will save a plate for next week. Perhaps it won't manage to last that long! But the memories will be there. I will be buoyed up by these moments of happiness. And some year, I will be able to give such a precious gift to a family going through the pits. I hope it will be soon.
It never occurred to me to celebrate Thanksgiving early while I am still feeling well. I just fell into the trap of assuming that since I would be reeling from the treatment, I would lie low, sleep, and somehow manage to get through the day. But they suggested I consider celebrating with family today. If I was willing, they would bring a complete Thanksgiving dinner! Who could refuse such an amazing offer?
I invited Kiel and Andrea, and as an afterthought, also my sister who lives alone here in Rochester. I had a reference shift in the late afternoon and Kiel had work until about the same time. We both arrived home to an apartment filled with yummy smells and a plethora of pans brimming with holiday goodies. I almost feel guilty accepting such largess at the expense of someone else's labor. After all, I could have done this had I thought of it. I could have squeezed it in before the boom lowers.
Still, what an enjoyable evening we had. Good conversation, laughter, memories of past family events - while gathered around food which we could all thoroughly enjoy. We pulled one delightful dish after another from the warming oven - turkey, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, stuffing, gravy, home made rolls, sweet potato pie and cranberry relish. No one was shy. We lingered at table long after forks stopped moving.
Chairs would have been more comfortable in the living room, but no one wanted to move. No one wanted to leave the fellowship or break the good time we were having. After a bit, we thought of the pies - apple AND pumpkin! Can you imagine? How spoiled are we? We decide to wait a bit before indulging more, and finally wander into the living room where I ask for help in setting up my little Christmas tree (might as well get a head start on that holiday too!).
This year I am graduating to a one-person sized tree just large enough to hold the select ornaments I have gradually collected as children have moved out and taken their favorite ornaments with them. It goes up in a zip and then we watch the Veggie Tales Little Drummer Boy dvd until our dinner settles and we are ready for pie.
It felt just like Thanksgiving - a wonderful day filled with family and food and fellowship. Just right. I am surrounded with memories of past Thanksgivings where we met at Grandma's house and played with our cousins. Even Drew reminisced about the bit bowl of walnuts we used to have, and how he liked to crack them and pop them in his mouth. Good memories. I will not be sad at all or alone come the actual Thanksgiving Day when I will be home alone nursing a chemo hangover.
I am extremely grateful for the hands that prepared all the wonderful food we enjoyed and for the kind hearted people who recognized how important it was for us not to skip this important celebration. My heart is singing with happiness as I tuck the remains away for another day. Perhaps I will save a plate for next week. Perhaps it won't manage to last that long! But the memories will be there. I will be buoyed up by these moments of happiness. And some year, I will be able to give such a precious gift to a family going through the pits. I hope it will be soon.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Dark Takes Over
I am sitting at the reference desk, and suddenly, I realize that it is already dark outside. And before I leave work for the day. How can that be? I know the change in daylight hours is a gradual process, but I have been paying no attention. Daylight Savings Time speeds the process along, but really, until tonight, it hasn't hit me that I leave work in the dark now.
Maybe it has been the incredibly warm weather straight through November that made me think we were not close to winter yet. Maybe the recent snow jogged my awareness and said - Pay attention! Days are short. Soon you will be going to work in the dark and returning home in the dark.
I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter, but it does. I revel in sunlight. I suppose I have chosen to live in the wrong latitude. Not that I could survive equatorial living, but someplace where both ends of the day don't meet quite so soon for so much of the year. (it could be worse - I hear Alaska is desperate for workers and jobs are plentiful there).
Rather like getting old. Suddenly one day you wake up and realize you are aging. Where did the time go? Why doesn't my body work so well? And who made everything move so fast! I can do nothing about growing old or lengthening days. At least with the day thing, it self corrects! As for the body thing, I hear we get eternal ones after graduation. That could work.
Maybe it has been the incredibly warm weather straight through November that made me think we were not close to winter yet. Maybe the recent snow jogged my awareness and said - Pay attention! Days are short. Soon you will be going to work in the dark and returning home in the dark.
I try to tell myself that it doesn't matter, but it does. I revel in sunlight. I suppose I have chosen to live in the wrong latitude. Not that I could survive equatorial living, but someplace where both ends of the day don't meet quite so soon for so much of the year. (it could be worse - I hear Alaska is desperate for workers and jobs are plentiful there).
Rather like getting old. Suddenly one day you wake up and realize you are aging. Where did the time go? Why doesn't my body work so well? And who made everything move so fast! I can do nothing about growing old or lengthening days. At least with the day thing, it self corrects! As for the body thing, I hear we get eternal ones after graduation. That could work.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
SNOW!
The weather station predicted snow showers this afternoon, and sure enough, as I was heading to church for a worship committee meeting, the flakes began to sift down, one here, one there. By the time we began our meeting, it was pelting the window. My car is a white mound in the parking lot and the grass has disappeared. I feel the chill of excitement. Winter! Soon the dead brown of autumn will be blanketed with fresh white snow, scrubbing the pollen and fleas from the face of nature.
My colleague, who is from Cuba, can hardly focus on our discussion. Snow is still a wonder for her. She finally excuses herself to call her friend who just arrived. This is her first time ever seeing snow. I can imagine the joy! The rest of us smile. We remember being excited about the first snow, before we got jaded about the shoveling/driving parts.
One year when I was attending college in New York and my parents had moved to Texas, I awoke to a Currier and Ives "snow filling the air blanket of white on the ground" scene. I was so excited I quite forgot that my parents lived in a different time zone and I bounced out of bed and called Mom. She answered the phone and I was so excited I missed the hint of worry in her voice. Why would anyone be calling at 5 am unless it was an emergency?
I gushed on and on about the snow and how exciting it was until I finally ran out of words. Then Mom said, "Is that why you called? Nothing is wrong?" Suddenly I saw things from her eyes. First snowfalls are meaningless if you can't see them, if you haven't been living with dead leaves and brown grass that suddenly are transformed before your eyes. Joy is not necessarily contagious over the phone, especially at 5 am. Moms have their limits. I felt sick inside. What a fool I had been, how thoughtless of me. My silence was deafening.
"Enjoy your snow. I'm going back to bed," Mom said. Click. Dial tone. I sat in my dorm room stunned at my unthinking intrusion into my Mother's world. Please forgive me. Just then, my dorm sisters tumbled out of the side door into the white new world beneath my window. They scooped up the white slush and tossed snowballs at each other, yelling and laughing. I couldn't resist. I grabbed my coat and mittens and headed out, properly sobered but still up for some joy.
My colleague, who is from Cuba, can hardly focus on our discussion. Snow is still a wonder for her. She finally excuses herself to call her friend who just arrived. This is her first time ever seeing snow. I can imagine the joy! The rest of us smile. We remember being excited about the first snow, before we got jaded about the shoveling/driving parts.
One year when I was attending college in New York and my parents had moved to Texas, I awoke to a Currier and Ives "snow filling the air blanket of white on the ground" scene. I was so excited I quite forgot that my parents lived in a different time zone and I bounced out of bed and called Mom. She answered the phone and I was so excited I missed the hint of worry in her voice. Why would anyone be calling at 5 am unless it was an emergency?
I gushed on and on about the snow and how exciting it was until I finally ran out of words. Then Mom said, "Is that why you called? Nothing is wrong?" Suddenly I saw things from her eyes. First snowfalls are meaningless if you can't see them, if you haven't been living with dead leaves and brown grass that suddenly are transformed before your eyes. Joy is not necessarily contagious over the phone, especially at 5 am. Moms have their limits. I felt sick inside. What a fool I had been, how thoughtless of me. My silence was deafening.
"Enjoy your snow. I'm going back to bed," Mom said. Click. Dial tone. I sat in my dorm room stunned at my unthinking intrusion into my Mother's world. Please forgive me. Just then, my dorm sisters tumbled out of the side door into the white new world beneath my window. They scooped up the white slush and tossed snowballs at each other, yelling and laughing. I couldn't resist. I grabbed my coat and mittens and headed out, properly sobered but still up for some joy.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Mailing Katie's Present
My grand daughter's birthday is coming up. I wander the toy aisles at Target. Never having had a girl, I am a bit at a loss about what she might want. I know she is into princesses and my little ponies. There is a Barbie princess doll that is a vision of loveliness. I remember playing with Barbie and all her stuff for hours and hours, but I was a bit older than Katie. Besides, there is all that rhetoric about warping young girls' ideas of normal body size. Sigh.
I go to Walmart's and look at their toy selection. Really, I would rather give her art lessons or something that will help her develop her creativity. But I am so far away, and I don't want to press her parents into having extra transportation duty. So I text my daughter-in-law to see what I should get. Yup - the Barbie would be perfect. OK.
I head home with the beautiful Barb tucked beneath my arm. I search my storage drawers for wrapping paper. Apparently I don't have anything left of my once copious supply. Trip to the dollar store to find birthday wrapping for a little girl, then on to the post office to box it up and send it out.
I arrive at the post office and enter an empty foyer. Impossible! No one in line for stamps? I decide to ask the clerk for advice about which box to use. She sets the wrapped present on her scale to see if it makes sense to send it priority (where I don't have to pay for the box) or flat rate (where I do have to pay for the box in addition to the postage). It will be the same cost either way if I can make it fit in the small priority box.
I unfold the box and try stuffing the present inside. It is just a bit too large. Hum. I stand there contemplating. A gentleman comes in and wanders past, then comes back and offers help. Really? I am the all time guru at packing, having moved so often. I can fit the contents of an entire household into a small pickup truck. This is really not possible.
But he bends the box just so, bellying out the middle and violating the end folds just enough and voila! He has managed to cram it inside. The clerk doesn't bat an eye at the unusual packaging. She weighs and stamps it and tosses it into the bin for North Carolina. Who knew you could bend the rules of a rigid cardboard box and make it do something it was not intended to do? Apparently, my helper.
Go, Barbie - fly to North Carolina and make my Katie smile.
I go to Walmart's and look at their toy selection. Really, I would rather give her art lessons or something that will help her develop her creativity. But I am so far away, and I don't want to press her parents into having extra transportation duty. So I text my daughter-in-law to see what I should get. Yup - the Barbie would be perfect. OK.
I head home with the beautiful Barb tucked beneath my arm. I search my storage drawers for wrapping paper. Apparently I don't have anything left of my once copious supply. Trip to the dollar store to find birthday wrapping for a little girl, then on to the post office to box it up and send it out.
I arrive at the post office and enter an empty foyer. Impossible! No one in line for stamps? I decide to ask the clerk for advice about which box to use. She sets the wrapped present on her scale to see if it makes sense to send it priority (where I don't have to pay for the box) or flat rate (where I do have to pay for the box in addition to the postage). It will be the same cost either way if I can make it fit in the small priority box.
I unfold the box and try stuffing the present inside. It is just a bit too large. Hum. I stand there contemplating. A gentleman comes in and wanders past, then comes back and offers help. Really? I am the all time guru at packing, having moved so often. I can fit the contents of an entire household into a small pickup truck. This is really not possible.
But he bends the box just so, bellying out the middle and violating the end folds just enough and voila! He has managed to cram it inside. The clerk doesn't bat an eye at the unusual packaging. She weighs and stamps it and tosses it into the bin for North Carolina. Who knew you could bend the rules of a rigid cardboard box and make it do something it was not intended to do? Apparently, my helper.
Go, Barbie - fly to North Carolina and make my Katie smile.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Great Crepes
Girls Night Out! Yeah! We have all had so much going on in our lives that we haven't gotten together for awhile. Tonight we head for Pittsford once more to the Simply Crepes restaurant. I am a sucker for a good crepe. Plus I know that I can eat almost any of them without detriment.
The place is elegant - crystal chandeliers, fireplace, homey wood paneling and old fashioned furniture. It is small and cozy, a nice reprieve from the cold outside. We settle at a table and peruse the menu. We can have anything from breakfast to lunch to dinner to dessert. The options are bountiful. We decide to select 3 different dishes and each try a bite of all. A sampler approach.
Conversation flows freely and time passes. The food is amazing and delicious. Before we realize, it is time to head home. We decide to indulge in the bite-sized cream and chocolate filled raspberry crepettes (and strong decaf coffee for my friends. We are loathe to leave the warmth and camaraderie. At last we tear ourselves away and head out into the night for our various places, our stomachs and our hearts both full. We definitely need to continue this wonderful tradition.
The place is elegant - crystal chandeliers, fireplace, homey wood paneling and old fashioned furniture. It is small and cozy, a nice reprieve from the cold outside. We settle at a table and peruse the menu. We can have anything from breakfast to lunch to dinner to dessert. The options are bountiful. We decide to select 3 different dishes and each try a bite of all. A sampler approach.
Conversation flows freely and time passes. The food is amazing and delicious. Before we realize, it is time to head home. We decide to indulge in the bite-sized cream and chocolate filled raspberry crepettes (and strong decaf coffee for my friends. We are loathe to leave the warmth and camaraderie. At last we tear ourselves away and head out into the night for our various places, our stomachs and our hearts both full. We definitely need to continue this wonderful tradition.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Darn Cough
I have been coughing since February. I know it is chemo cough, but I am so tired of hacking and choking and gagging. It wears me out, saps my energy, and makes me self-conscious in public. I am sure people think I am tremendously rude. I am so fed up that as a last ditch effort, I make a doctor's appointment. I plan to beg for something, anything that will alleviate this horrible hacking.
The doctor does all the same things as usual. Its not in my sinus, not in my chest, no redness in my throat. It is, really and still, chemo cough. She sees my distress. I am bummed. Together we scour a list of possible medications on the computer screen. She gives me several choices of things I can try, and encourages me to gargle with warm salt water. I suspect she does not believe these medications will help much, but at least I can try stuff.
Please, Lord. Make it go away.
The doctor does all the same things as usual. Its not in my sinus, not in my chest, no redness in my throat. It is, really and still, chemo cough. She sees my distress. I am bummed. Together we scour a list of possible medications on the computer screen. She gives me several choices of things I can try, and encourages me to gargle with warm salt water. I suspect she does not believe these medications will help much, but at least I can try stuff.
Please, Lord. Make it go away.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Cluster Choir
Ah, our annual choral gathering! There are 11 choirs participating this year. I am approaching it a bit differently. I purchased 2 new songs for the event. Songs that I like and which I plan to sing in our home services, but upbeat songs that I think other churches might want to try out. Its challenging for the choir to learn them on top of the regular service repertoire and feel like they know them well enough to sing in public, so to speak.
Several people from choir will not be able to be there this year for one reason or another, so we are small in number, but big in heart. I always worry about my choir members because it is such a long and uncomfortable and demanding day. They are such good sports about it. I especially worry about people driving home in the dark after such a long day out.
I have suggested to the other directors that we consider having the rehearsal on a Saturday for the 3 mass choir pieces, then schedule the concert in the afternoon on Sunday. That way we wouldn't need to do a marathon of singing for the 6 hours we will put in today on top of the morning service.
This year my throat is so bad that I cannot sing. I sit in the pews and listen. It IS a lovely sound to hear 80+ voices sing together. And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves despite the grueling schedule. The last piece they sing is the Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah. The organist is stellar, knowing just how to work the stops to best effect. They have run the piece twice and are doing one last swing through.
Suddenly, in the middle of the piece, I feel rather than hear, a depth and spirituality that is rare. The faces of the singers are shining. They are all pouring everything they have into this song. There is a collective energy. The sound floats with majesty. The singers also feel the moment of powerful significance as they lift up the ancient music to the ears of God. Yes, this is why we do cluster choir every year. We would have never been able individually to achieve such a moment. But together, in community, we affirm our common faith, we reach a unity of knowing the grandeur of God.
The rest of the evening slides by, but for me, the one moment of pure awe made the entire day worthwhile. I am blessed that I was able to sit there and be part of it despite my inability to sing. Hallelujah!
Several people from choir will not be able to be there this year for one reason or another, so we are small in number, but big in heart. I always worry about my choir members because it is such a long and uncomfortable and demanding day. They are such good sports about it. I especially worry about people driving home in the dark after such a long day out.
I have suggested to the other directors that we consider having the rehearsal on a Saturday for the 3 mass choir pieces, then schedule the concert in the afternoon on Sunday. That way we wouldn't need to do a marathon of singing for the 6 hours we will put in today on top of the morning service.
This year my throat is so bad that I cannot sing. I sit in the pews and listen. It IS a lovely sound to hear 80+ voices sing together. And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves despite the grueling schedule. The last piece they sing is the Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah. The organist is stellar, knowing just how to work the stops to best effect. They have run the piece twice and are doing one last swing through.
Suddenly, in the middle of the piece, I feel rather than hear, a depth and spirituality that is rare. The faces of the singers are shining. They are all pouring everything they have into this song. There is a collective energy. The sound floats with majesty. The singers also feel the moment of powerful significance as they lift up the ancient music to the ears of God. Yes, this is why we do cluster choir every year. We would have never been able individually to achieve such a moment. But together, in community, we affirm our common faith, we reach a unity of knowing the grandeur of God.
The rest of the evening slides by, but for me, the one moment of pure awe made the entire day worthwhile. I am blessed that I was able to sit there and be part of it despite my inability to sing. Hallelujah!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Kicking the Chicken
Today is the seminary retreat. I have looked forward to this time set aside to take a deep breath and think about how things are. It is always a rich time of meditation, connection, grace. As I have been around for more years than one normally needs to complete the program, many of the faces today are new to me. I join a table and meet new friends. It is hard to tear away from the conversations and begin the morning session.
The topic intrigues me. It is a question I have wrestled with. How can I make a difference to the starving millions in the world, to the invisible people I will never meet who need help? Our morning speaker, a sociologist, Lisa Graham McMinn who authored Walk Softly on the Earth sets forth this scenario:
Suppose you are at the grocery store, and checking out. What would you do if the clerk told you that you could save a dollar if you kicked the chicken tied to the cash register? Would you do it? What if you could save $5 by punching the child behind the counter?
What a ridiculous question. Of COURSE we wouldn't do it. But everytime we buy products from companies who exploit animals or children, we are, in essence, kicking the chicken and contributing to the cycle of exploitation and misery. She offers some ideas about how to lessen such an impact without crusading.
1) plant a garden and grow your own produce
2) buy local (also saves on fossil fuel consumption)
3) join a community agricultural project
4) for products that are not available locally, make sure you purchase Fair Trade products. that way you don't support the huge corporations that are concerned more about their bottom line than their slave labor
5) eat low on the food chain (more fruit/veggies; less meat)
6) walk, bike, carpool when possible
7) savor meal preparation and don't go out for fast food or convenience foods
Seven simple do-able lifestyle changes that collectively make a real difference to those poor invisible people who are in need. She also encouraged us to simplify our lives. Don't think you need so much. Make gifts. Own less.
How good it is to hear these truths. How easy to implement the ones I do not yet abide by. We break for lunch and violate most of her suggestions. Oops. The afternoon flies by. Before I know it, we are leaving. I pray this is one event where I don't forget to follow through once I step back into the hectic daily routine.
The topic intrigues me. It is a question I have wrestled with. How can I make a difference to the starving millions in the world, to the invisible people I will never meet who need help? Our morning speaker, a sociologist, Lisa Graham McMinn who authored Walk Softly on the Earth sets forth this scenario:
Suppose you are at the grocery store, and checking out. What would you do if the clerk told you that you could save a dollar if you kicked the chicken tied to the cash register? Would you do it? What if you could save $5 by punching the child behind the counter?
What a ridiculous question. Of COURSE we wouldn't do it. But everytime we buy products from companies who exploit animals or children, we are, in essence, kicking the chicken and contributing to the cycle of exploitation and misery. She offers some ideas about how to lessen such an impact without crusading.
1) plant a garden and grow your own produce
2) buy local (also saves on fossil fuel consumption)
3) join a community agricultural project
4) for products that are not available locally, make sure you purchase Fair Trade products. that way you don't support the huge corporations that are concerned more about their bottom line than their slave labor
5) eat low on the food chain (more fruit/veggies; less meat)
6) walk, bike, carpool when possible
7) savor meal preparation and don't go out for fast food or convenience foods
Seven simple do-able lifestyle changes that collectively make a real difference to those poor invisible people who are in need. She also encouraged us to simplify our lives. Don't think you need so much. Make gifts. Own less.
How good it is to hear these truths. How easy to implement the ones I do not yet abide by. We break for lunch and violate most of her suggestions. Oops. The afternoon flies by. Before I know it, we are leaving. I pray this is one event where I don't forget to follow through once I step back into the hectic daily routine.
Friday, November 11, 2011
That Darn Woman
I was having a marvelous time at an event where I would be presenting a lecture. I chatted with friends and colleagues, sipped punch, nibbled crackers. The atmosphere was warm and friendly. I happened to glance toward the windows, and suddenly I saw HER. I had no idea she would be at this event. This woman humiliated me in public several years ago.
Smiling to my face she plunged the dagger into my heart, and, still smiling, her back hiding her treachery to the world, she twisted the knife, gaining great pleasure while watching me gyrate in pain. Nothing I could do released the steel from my flesh. When she turned from me to the people in the room, she feigned innocence. She knew nothing of what had just happened. I hated this nasty person from the depths of my heart. No matter what I said to defend myself or to explain that it was all her doing, I just ended up looking worse and worse. My only hope was to walk away, nurse my wounds, and never go near her again.
I never did know why she did what she did. I had not really known her before the incident. We didn't intersect except at the one event, and I had done nothing I could think of to have made her angry with me. Well, no matter. I will just avoid her and try to enjoy today despite her presence.
Except. Except that my head kept telling me that I, as a Christian, as a daughter of the King, must love my enemies. Love her? Not gonna happen. She is mean. She hurt me. I hate her. Uh. OK. I know hate is not part of love. Really, God can't expect me to actually love her. Look at her. She is studiously snubbing me. Walking past without deigning to acknowledge my presence. Making ostentatious animated conversation with people near me to rub it in that I don't count in her eyes. Really? Love this creature?
Yes.
I can't.
You can't or you won't?
Well . . .
OK. I will make some small gesture. But if she treats me badly, I am absolved of all responsibility. Deal?
Make the gesture.
She is walking by. I look her square in the eyes, smile as widely as I can and greet her as if we are friends. She stopped dead in her tracks, looked at me with a frozen smile, then seemed to melt before my eyes. "Oh, hello. Nice to see you. How are you doing?"
She seemed sincere. Inside my mind was reeling. How do you think I am doing after you butchered me in public? Outwardly, I asked after her well being and her activities. It was as if she did not remember her treachery towards me. As if there were no wall between us. Really? After all that? She patted me on the arm as we parted, and said with genuine feeling, "It's good to see you again." And with that touch, everything changed.
I am floored. And surprised to discover that my hurt and hatred have melted away. Things seem to be in perspective once again. She is a person. Whatever her reason that day, she doesn't seem to have realized what she did. Nor does she seem to remember it or harbor any ill will towards me.
Huh. All I did was say hello in an attempt to be nice. Can it really be that simple? What just happened here? I shake my head and enter the conference room. Amazing.
Smiling to my face she plunged the dagger into my heart, and, still smiling, her back hiding her treachery to the world, she twisted the knife, gaining great pleasure while watching me gyrate in pain. Nothing I could do released the steel from my flesh. When she turned from me to the people in the room, she feigned innocence. She knew nothing of what had just happened. I hated this nasty person from the depths of my heart. No matter what I said to defend myself or to explain that it was all her doing, I just ended up looking worse and worse. My only hope was to walk away, nurse my wounds, and never go near her again.
I never did know why she did what she did. I had not really known her before the incident. We didn't intersect except at the one event, and I had done nothing I could think of to have made her angry with me. Well, no matter. I will just avoid her and try to enjoy today despite her presence.
Except. Except that my head kept telling me that I, as a Christian, as a daughter of the King, must love my enemies. Love her? Not gonna happen. She is mean. She hurt me. I hate her. Uh. OK. I know hate is not part of love. Really, God can't expect me to actually love her. Look at her. She is studiously snubbing me. Walking past without deigning to acknowledge my presence. Making ostentatious animated conversation with people near me to rub it in that I don't count in her eyes. Really? Love this creature?
Yes.
I can't.
You can't or you won't?
Well . . .
OK. I will make some small gesture. But if she treats me badly, I am absolved of all responsibility. Deal?
Make the gesture.
She is walking by. I look her square in the eyes, smile as widely as I can and greet her as if we are friends. She stopped dead in her tracks, looked at me with a frozen smile, then seemed to melt before my eyes. "Oh, hello. Nice to see you. How are you doing?"
She seemed sincere. Inside my mind was reeling. How do you think I am doing after you butchered me in public? Outwardly, I asked after her well being and her activities. It was as if she did not remember her treachery towards me. As if there were no wall between us. Really? After all that? She patted me on the arm as we parted, and said with genuine feeling, "It's good to see you again." And with that touch, everything changed.
I am floored. And surprised to discover that my hurt and hatred have melted away. Things seem to be in perspective once again. She is a person. Whatever her reason that day, she doesn't seem to have realized what she did. Nor does she seem to remember it or harbor any ill will towards me.
Huh. All I did was say hello in an attempt to be nice. Can it really be that simple? What just happened here? I shake my head and enter the conference room. Amazing.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Clean Teeth
Drew was supposed to have his teeth cleaned today, but the dentist needed to change the time of his appointment, and I didn't want him missing school. Since I had to cancel my last cleaning, I volunteered to take this appointment at the later time and make another appointment for Drew. I am curious if I can even get through a complete cleaning. If I get a coughing jag I will have to quit. I pray for a cough-free dental time.
I warn the hygienist ahead of time. She understands and is willing to do whatever it takes. She has been worried about me because I cannot go long between cleanings due to my compromised immune system. I need to keep my mouth under control ( a good trick if you can do it!). I manage to mostly be cough free. The cleaning goes well and my mouth tastes so minty and fresh.
She gives me a new softer toothbrush and lots of dental floss. Then I head in to be seen by the new dentist - a specialist who deals with many cancer patients. She spends a good while checking things out under the auspices of digital technologies of all kinds.
Only one tiny cavity, but my teeth have evidenced more places where a small piece has fractured off. I will need to have repairs done. Then she discovers an infection around one of my molars. I will need to see a specialist in another clinic to have that dealt with. My immune system is no place to harbor an infection.
She recommends two different mouthwashes to help with the dryness in my mouth and the resulting bacterial buildup. One during the day, one right before bed. Sigh. Its never ending, the fall out of the radiation chemo track. At least this time no more teeth have fallen out. Thank God for that.
I warn the hygienist ahead of time. She understands and is willing to do whatever it takes. She has been worried about me because I cannot go long between cleanings due to my compromised immune system. I need to keep my mouth under control ( a good trick if you can do it!). I manage to mostly be cough free. The cleaning goes well and my mouth tastes so minty and fresh.
She gives me a new softer toothbrush and lots of dental floss. Then I head in to be seen by the new dentist - a specialist who deals with many cancer patients. She spends a good while checking things out under the auspices of digital technologies of all kinds.
Only one tiny cavity, but my teeth have evidenced more places where a small piece has fractured off. I will need to have repairs done. Then she discovers an infection around one of my molars. I will need to see a specialist in another clinic to have that dealt with. My immune system is no place to harbor an infection.
She recommends two different mouthwashes to help with the dryness in my mouth and the resulting bacterial buildup. One during the day, one right before bed. Sigh. Its never ending, the fall out of the radiation chemo track. At least this time no more teeth have fallen out. Thank God for that.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Late Night
On Wednesdays my library work day begins at noon. Of course, I use the free morning to run errands and read assignments and catch up on housework. Then I head off for the afternoon and night shift at the library. Today I plan to stay long after my usual home going time to work with the new Evening Supervisor. She comes in at 9 pm. Depending on her questions and what she is able to absorb, I could be here well nigh all evening.
I am happy to be training. Because of the bad job market out there, I was fortunate to be able to hire far above the normal level of expertise for these positions. I know our new hires will catch on quickly and take us much farther down the improvement road than we have managed to get thus far, and for that I am grateful. I keep telling myself that the late hours will end soon, and that there is a light at the end of the "filling in for two other jobs more than I normally do" thing.
Still, by the end of the day when I finally head home bleary eyed, I am more than ready to call it quits. I guess I am getting old. I used to run all day and not get weary. Or else its just this cough that tires me out so much. If I could just breathe better, I think I could manage to handle the occasional candle burning at both ends day.
I am happy to be training. Because of the bad job market out there, I was fortunate to be able to hire far above the normal level of expertise for these positions. I know our new hires will catch on quickly and take us much farther down the improvement road than we have managed to get thus far, and for that I am grateful. I keep telling myself that the late hours will end soon, and that there is a light at the end of the "filling in for two other jobs more than I normally do" thing.
Still, by the end of the day when I finally head home bleary eyed, I am more than ready to call it quits. I guess I am getting old. I used to run all day and not get weary. Or else its just this cough that tires me out so much. If I could just breathe better, I think I could manage to handle the occasional candle burning at both ends day.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Blue Skies
Glorious! If I didn't know better, I would think summer has returned. Or at least a very amenable fall. Everyone is outdoors. Neighbors are smiling and chatting. Hearts are filled with joy and good will. After all the gloomy rain, this reprieve lightens steps and workloads and expectations. Dogs bark, birds sing, flowers bloom again, grass greens up. Makes me long for the days when we lived 3 miles from the Mexican border and even in the winter the sun kissed our faces and warmed our backs.
What is this strange effect that the color blue has on us? Or is it the color yellow sun? Can the sun touch our world in ways like the moon, causing tides to flow and cycles to repeat? Would it be fair to say that just as the full moon brings out all the weird behavior, the full sun brings out all the happiness?
Whatever the cause, I hope it lasts for a long while. I hope I can store it up for the long winter's night when I am cooped indoors and face a frozen tundra of white. Blue over white. I'll take the blue for as long as I can. Meanwhile, I make every excuse to get outside. Oh, Sugar!
What is this strange effect that the color blue has on us? Or is it the color yellow sun? Can the sun touch our world in ways like the moon, causing tides to flow and cycles to repeat? Would it be fair to say that just as the full moon brings out all the weird behavior, the full sun brings out all the happiness?
Whatever the cause, I hope it lasts for a long while. I hope I can store it up for the long winter's night when I am cooped indoors and face a frozen tundra of white. Blue over white. I'll take the blue for as long as I can. Meanwhile, I make every excuse to get outside. Oh, Sugar!
Monday, November 7, 2011
Out Sick
Darn cough. I woke at 4 am sputtering and hacking. It took a good half hour for my throat to settle down so I could go back to sleep. I was just drifting off when I coughed again and suddenly sat bolt upright. Now I have to go to the bathroom. And I mean right now. I jump out of bed and run for the room. That was close. I trudge back to bed and settle in, shifting the pillows and blankets around me just right. Three seconds later, I scramble out of bed and bolt for the room again. Oh, no.
The coughing sets off the stomach. The stomach sets off the coughing. Vicious cycle. At this rate, I'll never get any rest. By 8 am, I realize I am not going to be able to function at work in any capacity. I decide to call in and take the day to get over whateverthisis before it gains a foothold. First I call the person I report to. Then a trip to the bathroom. Then I realize I have a morning training session, so I call that person. Trip to bathroom. Then I call the front desk to let them know. Another trip. I forget to call anyone else. I should have called the reference desk and my afternoon meeting person as well.
But I am too worn out to care about all that. I know I should, but I don't. Sometimes I just don't act very responsibly. I wander in and out of sleep vs bathroom most of the day. Drew is home and we watch a movie (with many pauses). At last it all seems to pass, thank goodness (pun intended). Let's not repeat that any time soon!
The coughing sets off the stomach. The stomach sets off the coughing. Vicious cycle. At this rate, I'll never get any rest. By 8 am, I realize I am not going to be able to function at work in any capacity. I decide to call in and take the day to get over whateverthisis before it gains a foothold. First I call the person I report to. Then a trip to the bathroom. Then I realize I have a morning training session, so I call that person. Trip to bathroom. Then I call the front desk to let them know. Another trip. I forget to call anyone else. I should have called the reference desk and my afternoon meeting person as well.
But I am too worn out to care about all that. I know I should, but I don't. Sometimes I just don't act very responsibly. I wander in and out of sleep vs bathroom most of the day. Drew is home and we watch a movie (with many pauses). At last it all seems to pass, thank goodness (pun intended). Let's not repeat that any time soon!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Long Day
Every once in awhile I draw a Sunday reference shift at the library. I try to sign up mostly for Saturdays because it makes such a long day for me. First I drop Drew off for his ride to church at 8:30, then head to my office where I watch an online service like St. Olaf or Duke University for awhile.
I must be at church for rehearsals at 9:30 am, then service at 10 followed by children's choir rehearsal and chime choir rehearsal. I am finished around 1 pm, then the library begins at 2 and goes until 6 pm. Today I will be staying after 6 to work with our new Evening Supervisor. I am hoping to get home before 9 pm. It does make for a long day.
I am not complaining at all. I am happy that I have so many wonderful things happening in my life and that I truly enjoy all of them. But I am glad that the Sunday long days are not the norm! I so prefer my afternoon rest and spending the day with Drew.
I must be at church for rehearsals at 9:30 am, then service at 10 followed by children's choir rehearsal and chime choir rehearsal. I am finished around 1 pm, then the library begins at 2 and goes until 6 pm. Today I will be staying after 6 to work with our new Evening Supervisor. I am hoping to get home before 9 pm. It does make for a long day.
I am not complaining at all. I am happy that I have so many wonderful things happening in my life and that I truly enjoy all of them. But I am glad that the Sunday long days are not the norm! I so prefer my afternoon rest and spending the day with Drew.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Pretty Sugar
How fast Sugar's fur grows! When she starts looking like a fat little sausage, I know its time to take her to be clipped. She loves to go, and when I turned in the opposite direction to run an errand before dropping her off, she cried and whined and scratched at the car window! Smart dog.
Too bad people don't come with some kind of automatic indicator of when they need attention! Oh, the outside grooming is easy enough to detect, but the inside stuff is much harder to read. Wouldn't it be grand if a person's face turned blue when they are sad and in need of cheering up? Or their fingers tingled when they are in need of a big ole hug! These are the kinds of things you can only know by really paying attention to someone and learning their norms and abnorms (is that a word?).
You can't really do that virtually or textingly (another new coinage?). You can't do it remotely or as you are passing through on your way to another meeting. You simply have to be with someone consistently to see the needs. And then of course, to know how best to meet them.
For all Sugar's cuteness with her new trim job, despite the colorful thanksgiving neckerchief she sports, regardless of her perky little ear bows, I know she is missing Kiel who moved out when he got his new apartment and hasn't had time to visit. She is moping. Me too.
I know when he settles in and finds his pace, he will show up again. Meantime, I scratch Sugar behind the ears and take her on extra walks. That will just have to do for now. Drew is still in his delighted to have his space back mode, but I think I do detect just a tinge of blue in his face, even if he won't admit to missing his brother.
Too bad people don't come with some kind of automatic indicator of when they need attention! Oh, the outside grooming is easy enough to detect, but the inside stuff is much harder to read. Wouldn't it be grand if a person's face turned blue when they are sad and in need of cheering up? Or their fingers tingled when they are in need of a big ole hug! These are the kinds of things you can only know by really paying attention to someone and learning their norms and abnorms (is that a word?).
You can't really do that virtually or textingly (another new coinage?). You can't do it remotely or as you are passing through on your way to another meeting. You simply have to be with someone consistently to see the needs. And then of course, to know how best to meet them.
For all Sugar's cuteness with her new trim job, despite the colorful thanksgiving neckerchief she sports, regardless of her perky little ear bows, I know she is missing Kiel who moved out when he got his new apartment and hasn't had time to visit. She is moping. Me too.
I know when he settles in and finds his pace, he will show up again. Meantime, I scratch Sugar behind the ears and take her on extra walks. That will just have to do for now. Drew is still in his delighted to have his space back mode, but I think I do detect just a tinge of blue in his face, even if he won't admit to missing his brother.
Friday, November 4, 2011
A Carpet of Geese
It is early - 7:00 am. I want to be to work ahead of time to take care of a few things. Elmgrove Avenue is already busy, especially around the 531 entrance. I crest the hill, and glance to the right. It looks like someone rolled a dark carpet out over the grass by the industrial park. I look closer. The carpet is moving!
Then I realize the lawn is literally covered with geese waddling about, preening and sniffing. They make no honking noise. I hear no sound at all, even with my window open. A car honks, but the geese pay no attention. No one flutters about anxiously. No one seems to be eating or digging in the grass. They are just milling about like a crowd gathering for a parade. The next lawn area is also filled with geese. I have never seen so many in one place. Each successive lawn area is graced by the big birds, though the numbers begin to thin out.
And then I am past the space and back to morning traffic. What was that all about? Big migration south? I guess winter must truly be on its way if this huge family is passing through Rochester. I check the rearview mirror to see if they have taken flight, but nary a bird appears. Sure wish I could be there when they take to the air!
Then I realize the lawn is literally covered with geese waddling about, preening and sniffing. They make no honking noise. I hear no sound at all, even with my window open. A car honks, but the geese pay no attention. No one flutters about anxiously. No one seems to be eating or digging in the grass. They are just milling about like a crowd gathering for a parade. The next lawn area is also filled with geese. I have never seen so many in one place. Each successive lawn area is graced by the big birds, though the numbers begin to thin out.
And then I am past the space and back to morning traffic. What was that all about? Big migration south? I guess winter must truly be on its way if this huge family is passing through Rochester. I check the rearview mirror to see if they have taken flight, but nary a bird appears. Sure wish I could be there when they take to the air!
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Drew's Internship
You can tell when someone is really into an activity because no effort is too small or unthinkable. Like Drew working as an intern at Post Central. He is excited for the opportunity to see what happens in this field and made his own arrangements for transportation. His idea of how to make that happen?
He plans on walking/jogging from school the 3 miles to Post Central for the one day a week when he is allowed to be there. His last period is a study hall and he figures he can cover the distance in an hour so as to be in place by 3pm. I am not crazy about this idea. But I cannot take off work to drive clear over to the east side of the city and drive him, and he does not yet have his license (or a car for that matter).
His idea for getting home since he will be there for an undetermined amount of time? After he completes his work, he will walk to a plaza where there is a Burger King (about 2 miles back towards school) and sit there until I can come and get him. That might be late since it is a choir night and I am not able to come until after 8:30. Hum. This is definitely not what I had in mind. Good thing he is young and full of energy and strength.
In some ways, it is healthy for him to be put out a bit - this will help him understand more about the problems people have to overcome to accomplish things. It will stretch his own level of commitment. On the other hand, I do not like the idea of him wandering about on major roads. We talk. Next time we will find better arrangements. But for today, he is stuck with his plans.
And judging from his glowing face when I picked him up, it was well worth the effort!
He plans on walking/jogging from school the 3 miles to Post Central for the one day a week when he is allowed to be there. His last period is a study hall and he figures he can cover the distance in an hour so as to be in place by 3pm. I am not crazy about this idea. But I cannot take off work to drive clear over to the east side of the city and drive him, and he does not yet have his license (or a car for that matter).
His idea for getting home since he will be there for an undetermined amount of time? After he completes his work, he will walk to a plaza where there is a Burger King (about 2 miles back towards school) and sit there until I can come and get him. That might be late since it is a choir night and I am not able to come until after 8:30. Hum. This is definitely not what I had in mind. Good thing he is young and full of energy and strength.
In some ways, it is healthy for him to be put out a bit - this will help him understand more about the problems people have to overcome to accomplish things. It will stretch his own level of commitment. On the other hand, I do not like the idea of him wandering about on major roads. We talk. Next time we will find better arrangements. But for today, he is stuck with his plans.
And judging from his glowing face when I picked him up, it was well worth the effort!
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Sleep Study
I knew it! The doctor has reviewed my study and proclaims that I do not have any sleep disorders or anything like that. I beam. Good news. He glowers. It would have been easy to fix a sleep disorder. Now we have to dig deeper to find out what is really wrong.
Hah! That's his perspective. Personally, I am happy that I do not have to deal with a sleep disorder. Of course, I don't want something else more serious to be wrong either. But I have always slept well and had no trouble doing that.
Then he mentions that he is somewhat concerned that during the night my oxygen levels drop to 89 or 90 on a regular basis, but not due to any obstruction or collapse of the throat area. While that isn't horrible, it is concerning. He suggests that I see a pulmonary specialist. Of course! He makes a note in his report to the oncologist and my primary doctor.
Personally, I still think it is the chemo cough and the multiple trips to the bathroom and the hurting of all the bones and joints that are of more interest, but OK. Might as well follow every lead. Just hurry up and do it before the year ends and I am back to shelling out $6,000 for every little medical thing.
Hah! That's his perspective. Personally, I am happy that I do not have to deal with a sleep disorder. Of course, I don't want something else more serious to be wrong either. But I have always slept well and had no trouble doing that.
Then he mentions that he is somewhat concerned that during the night my oxygen levels drop to 89 or 90 on a regular basis, but not due to any obstruction or collapse of the throat area. While that isn't horrible, it is concerning. He suggests that I see a pulmonary specialist. Of course! He makes a note in his report to the oncologist and my primary doctor.
Personally, I still think it is the chemo cough and the multiple trips to the bathroom and the hurting of all the bones and joints that are of more interest, but OK. Might as well follow every lead. Just hurry up and do it before the year ends and I am back to shelling out $6,000 for every little medical thing.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sad Little House
Across Orchard Street from the library sits an empty house. The blue siding is faded, the grass overgrown, the windows vacant. It has sat thus for some time and I have often wondered to whom the house belonged and where they have gone. How sad to confront abandoned dreams and memories of someone's life now left to the imagination of the uninterested and uncaring.
Today I noticed a couple of men circling the property, chatting to each other. Perhaps they have purchased the property! But no. Their pickup truck tells me they are workmen come to begin the process of dismantling the poor little place. They begin with the faded blue siding. How easily the house sheds its cover, giving it over without protest. Beneath the shiny aluminum lies brown shingles, an immediate flashback to the fifties.
I suppose over the course of the next few weeks more of the structure will disappear as they remove all traces of what once may have been a happy life. I will be the first to admit that we need more parking space on this campus, but this feels too high a price to pay. I want to capture the value of those who once were there loving, living, caring, doing, being. I cannot. I cannot even name their names or conjure up their visage.
I can almost see the leveled ground already despite the building remnant still standing. It is almost as if they are taking me apart, removing my protection, dismantling my own dreams and security. I take a moment to acknowledge the fleeting nature of life, to think about how quickly the mindless grass will cover any awareness of our time on this earth. Who will remember after I am gone? Who will care that once I was here, that I did things, that I loved people?
Good thing there is an eternity of otherness that will more than compensate for our brief if somewhat frenzied life here. I touch my heart, making sure my ticket is secure just as the workmen throw a pile of siding into the back of their truck.
Today I noticed a couple of men circling the property, chatting to each other. Perhaps they have purchased the property! But no. Their pickup truck tells me they are workmen come to begin the process of dismantling the poor little place. They begin with the faded blue siding. How easily the house sheds its cover, giving it over without protest. Beneath the shiny aluminum lies brown shingles, an immediate flashback to the fifties.
I suppose over the course of the next few weeks more of the structure will disappear as they remove all traces of what once may have been a happy life. I will be the first to admit that we need more parking space on this campus, but this feels too high a price to pay. I want to capture the value of those who once were there loving, living, caring, doing, being. I cannot. I cannot even name their names or conjure up their visage.
I can almost see the leveled ground already despite the building remnant still standing. It is almost as if they are taking me apart, removing my protection, dismantling my own dreams and security. I take a moment to acknowledge the fleeting nature of life, to think about how quickly the mindless grass will cover any awareness of our time on this earth. Who will remember after I am gone? Who will care that once I was here, that I did things, that I loved people?
Good thing there is an eternity of otherness that will more than compensate for our brief if somewhat frenzied life here. I touch my heart, making sure my ticket is secure just as the workmen throw a pile of siding into the back of their truck.