Thank you!

After a year of blogging about living with Mantle Cell, it's time to call it a day.  On to new adventures. 

Michael and I really appreciate the support that has come our way.  Thank you, thank you.

Dharma says, "Bye bye!"

And Who Is This Guy, Anyway?

I realized that I've never formally introduced him.  Maybe by reading between the lines, you've come to know him a little.  It's like a long distance phone call where you hear him banging dishes in the background or adding his two cents to the conversation - you kind of get an idea about him, but it's not the same as coming to visit so you can meet him in person.

So, come into my parlor and let me introduce you to this man.

The Food Facet:  In 1994, I was just getting to know Michael and we were fixing dinner together when he asked me to chop up some kale.  Ahem... I had never heard of kale (how many people were eating kale in 1994?), never even ate any greens, and I had no idea how kale was supposed to be chopped.  Another day he fixed me some hot, cooked millet-to-go for breakfast.  Again, no clue what this stuff was (and it certainly didn't wow me).  I don't think that Michael was raised on kale and millet - and, obviously, neither was I - but Michael is a flexible food pioneer.  Eating has been an adventure ever since those first days.  Even as I type this, Michael is over there at the stove preparing his breakfasts for the next eight days - tortilla-less burritos of rice, beans, ground turkey, and a bunch of veggies. 

Who ARE those youngsters???

The Music Facet:  If I knew on which of Michael's two computers to check, I would show you his music collection on iTunes.  It's impressive!  On our iPod, one of the 45 playlists Michael has created is called "Best Songs".  It has 792 songs on it, and he's planning on growing it to 2,500 (for real!).

The other night, Michael told me that every morning during the last week, he woke up with a different song from Elton John's Elton John album on his mind.  I'm used to hearing things like this, but this time I asked Michael why he told me these things.  I was truly curious.  He told me that music is the way his mind works.  That was a very aha moment for me!  You mean to tell me that not everyone operates the way I do?  I will never know what it's like to be Michael, but I do know that he sees and moves in the world in a way that's very different from the way I do.

Isn't life just amazing???

The Brilliant Programmer/Stock Market Wizard Facet:  I do know which computer I can take you to in order to show you the complex graph of stock market whatnot Michael is paying attention to today.  Don't ask me what any of it means.  All I know is that, over the last fourteen or fifteen years, Michael has been doing computer genius to develop programs that know when to put him into stocks and when to take him out of them.  This man has a storehouse of knowledge that boggles the mind.  He had, and has, a vision that is HUGE!  You could say he has a lot of self-discipline - which he does - but he also has the intelligence, interest, and love that would focus someone enough to continue on for FOURTEEN OR FIFTEEN YEARS in order to perfect a system to do what he wants.  Through many wins and probably even more losses.  These programs are not the pie-in-the-sky wish of someone who wants to get rich quick.  Obviously.  We are not even rich slow.  Michael's systems are complex and backed up by years of computer knowledge, plus TONS of books and hours of seminars where Michael picked up tidbits to add to his already highly evolved vision. You'll know Michael has hit pay dirt when we spring for new windows and remodeled bathrooms, right Mikey?   (And don't come asking for stock market advice unless you, too, want to spend years developing computer programs of your own!)

The Practice Facet:  But before Michael goes to the computer to check his stocks in the morning, and after he has listened to his tunes at night, he has done his practices - an hour and a half of qigong early every morning and heart-centered meditation every night.  Computers, music, qigong and meditation... He is one balanced kind of guy, isn't he? 

The Don't Worry Be Happy Facet:  I honestly do not know a person who worries less than Michael.  He is Mr. Even Keel.  Thank God there's someone in this house with that quality!

The LOVE Facet:  You know how I know that Michael has a huge, open, generous heart?  He loves me!  And I can be quite the challenge sometimes. When we met, Michael walked into a family consisting of  moi, along with a son and daughter who were 13 and 15.  It was not the easiest of times.  A man less willing to love a challenge most likely would have enjoyed our conversation the first day of that bodywork class in 1994 and then moved on to easier pastures (but we've already seen how good Michael is at challenges by the way he's handling his MCL and the determination with which he has worked on his stock programs, right?).

Just days after we married, at the top of Mt. Elbert, the highest mountain in Colorado, elevation, 14,440 feet (4,401 m). 

Oh, Dharma wants to jump in here.  She says that she's so happy that Michael fell in love with her via her photo on the Rocky Mountain Lab Rescue that day.  She's happy that he put aside all thoughts of wanting a dog who was out of puppyhood because he could see the amazing potential in her.

I think that's what Michael is really good at - seeing the amazing potential in all things.

I am so blessed.

#2 It's Okay To Finish Off The Fish Oil

Typical morning ritual:

Michael lets Dharma out EARLY, then does an hour and a half of qigong.  For as long as I can stand it, I act like I'm sleeping, then give up on that, and get up to feed Dharma.  While the pup is eating, I run carrots, a beet and its greens, kale, celery, and an apple or two through the juicer.  I pour two big glasses of beet-dyed liquid.  Before I drink my juice, I gulp down a big, delicious spoonful of lemon-flavored fish oil.  Really, it's not bad at all.

Michael started drinking the vegetable juice and taking fish oil after being diagnosed, and those are a couple of the things that I have adopted, too.  Always, when I pour the juice, if one glass comes out fuller than the other, I will give that one to Michael.  After all, he's the one with the diagnosis.  I want to help him be healthy.

So last week, when I stood over the kitchen sink with what I realized was the last spoonful of fish oil, I hesitated.  Michael was still in the bedroom doing qigong.  Do I save this for him?  Or is it okay to take the last spoon of fish oil?

If I knew that the last spoonful of fish oil would cure the cancer in Michael's body, I would have brought it to him right then and there, but it can't and I didn't.

I downed the lemony oil.

A couple of days later, I bought more.

I can't tell that Michael is any worse off for not having fish oil that one day.  And I can't tell that I'm any healthier from the little extra that I got.

Maybe I should have titled this post, "It Sure Feels Good In The Moments When I Take Care Of Myself And Just Trust Life".

Roars and Growls

As we passed through Hudson (population 1,565) out on the eastern plains of Colorado, my body flashed back to the sensations of being a young girl in Kansas.  The small town ambiance.  Everything slower than the pace I've been used to for a long time now.  The familiarity was comforting.  My pores would have loved to have stopped there, walked the streets, gone into the library to take in the smell, and checked out the gas station to see if there was a Coke machine that held glass bottles. 

But it was Michael's birthday, and we continued on to our destination.

Why did it take us so long to finally visit the Wild Animal Sanctuary?  It's been in its current location for over twenty years.  Oh, sometimes I marvel at how many things there are to discover in this life.

But we arrived in the land of lions and tigers and bears at just the right time.  And I loved it!

The Wild Animal Sanctuary sits on 720 acres of prairie, and it has an elevated walkway that is almost a mile long. That walkway allowed us to see the bears waaaaaaay out there while also snatching bird's eye views of any big kitties who happen to meander under us.

I didn't know that a lion's roar could not only be heard, but it's also felt.  The feeling and sound are enough to awaken primal nerves - the ones that must be tamed in order to live in suburbia.  RRRROOOAARRRR!  Whew!  It was good to let that out!

The Wild Animal Sanctuary has about 300 animals who have been rescued from abusive situations or from places where they are kept illegally.  These animals' stories helped me to once again realize that people will do about anything.  People who try to make pets out of lions or tigers, so the animals have to live in apartments or horse trailers or trucks.  A man who had two tigers living in his car with him and made money by charging people for photos with the animals. The circus and zoo owners and workers who force animals to live in inhumane conditions.

And then there are the amazing people who rescue these animals, the people who care for them out at the sanctuary, and the people who donate money so that the sanctuary can afford the almost three million dollars necessary for animal care each year.  That's a lot of love and caring!!!

The bears were kind of sleepy and not very social, so my photos of them were not all that exciting. I hope that Dorothy would approve of my "Lions and Tigers and Wolves (oh my!)" story. 

Wolf Yoga

A couple of wolves at the sanctuary were victims of a husband and wife's divorce.  The wolves had been "pets". Children, dogs, and cats suffer from the effects of divorce.  But I think the two wolves benefited.  

Did you know that there is a school somewhere in the eastern U.S. (I can't remember where) who has adopted an animal at the sanctuary by raising money through recycling ink cartridges?  Anyone anywhere who cares about giving these beautiful animals a good life can donate to help them out. 

There is something about remembering that, somewhere - not just at a Colorado sanctuary, but also in the wilds - there are happy lions RROOAARRing, bears doing bear things, and wolves playing.  This is not just a human-centric world, even though we do our best to believe so.


“To be whole. To be complete. Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separate from.”
  - Terry Tempest Williams

#1 Don't Go Borrowing Trouble

First, thanks for all of the birthday wishes for Michael, whether they were posted here or came via email.  We had a fun day, and I will post about it soon.  For now, I'll just give you a hint about our day:  ROARRRRRRRR!

Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Is there a Trouble Library where we borrow Troubles when everything around us appears to be fine, but we find ourselves caught up in things that MIGHT HAPPEN SOMETIME?  If not, where do these things come from?

Last week, I was playing around with a few Borrowed Troubles.  But they came due this past Monday, and I returned them on time.  No overdue fine.  I don't know where I got them or where I returned them to, but they are gone and, well, here we are!

Isn't it fascinating how often everyone around us (never us!) worries about things that MIGHT HAPPEN SOMETIME?  It's as if juggling Borrowed Troubles will help us to be prepared for when the Real Trouble comes along.  Meanwhile, the dog is sweetly sleeping beside us, the clothes are all washed and put away, our loved ones are out doing whatever it is they like to do, the birds are singing outside our window, and we are missing it all (or at the very best, barely registering it) because we are busy figuring out how to deal with a wide assortment of the BTs.

Did you hear me?  The birds are singing!  Everything is fine!  There are no current problems!

And when there are current problems, we will deal.  They probably won't be the same problems as those practiced when we Borrowed Trouble, so all of that practice was a waste of time, anyway.

I notice this kind of thing everywhere, and it's prevalent in the Intertubal MCL world. I have yet to figure out what good it does, other than to make us feel miserable and help us to look like very concerned spouses/parents/citizens/etc.  Or maybe we just look like very worried people.  People who are missing the laughs and lightness and joy that dances in every moment.

As the wise B. Marley sang, "We don't need no more trouble.  What we need is love!"

Much of the time (but not last week), I practice noticing what's really happening RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.  I leave the BTs on the shelf at the Trouble Library, or wherever it is that they like to sit, and I deal with what's in front of me in the moment.  Maybe it's not very American to take the time to stop and notice the sensations in our toes, the kekekekekekek of the northern flicker in the cottonwood, or the coolness of the air as it enters our nostrils.  But THAT'S what's happening - not the BTs!

Dharma Talk For Today:  When my ball gets stuck under the dresser, I try to dig a hole in the hardwood floor to get it.  Since the floor is too darn hard to dig through, I just go find my nylabone.  There are no troubles in life that can't be solved by finding another toy.  I'm not picky.

Happy Birthday, Mikey!

I love you more today than yesterday.  But not as much as tomorrow.






And I DO remember what day it was. First day of Trager class. June, 1994.  You have been my sweetie ever since. 

How Did I Get Onto The Subject Of Bellies?

My belly is a road map of life-saving scars.  You would think that I would be so grateful for them that I wouldn't hesitate to wear the only swimsuit I have - a two-piece - but when my friend suggested we go to some hot springs, I hesitated, saying I would need to get a new swimsuit first.  Up until a year and a half ago, all my surgical scars were covered by this suit, but that last cut made a north-south Main street in the center of my belly, and it screams out, "Look at me!"  (At least that's what I hear.)

I'm still trying to figure out why I think I care about displaying the fine craftwomanship of my surgeon.  I think (but haven't polled anyone to find out) that people are uncomfortable seeing belly scars on women who could cover them up if they wanted to.  But there are people who are also uncomfortable with seeing homeless people and many people with disabilities.  And that doesn't mean that the homeless people or people with disabilities need to hide or cover themselves up.  And I guess it doesn't mean that I need to cover up my belly art.

Still, I feel a little wiggly about flaunting my imperfections.

(Oh, my, there are a few blog posts right there:  My Imperfections...  My Perfect Imperfections... As If You Can't See My Imperfections, No Matter What I Wear...  My Facial Wrinkles Are Invisible, But This Scar Is Flashing Neon!  What Is Perfect?  Is There Such a Thing As An Imperfection?  Can It All Be Perfect?  Are Perfect Scars Really Imperfections?  How Would You Like It If Someone Called Your Work An "Imperfection"!  I AM Beautiful and Perfect - And So Are You!)

Dharma has a new scar on her belly that looks a lot like mine.  But she still stretches out on her back, baring her perfect scar and going completely orgasmic when someone is willing to rub her sweet tummy.  She has no inhibitions about her incision at all.  But then, she also poops out in the middle of the backyard.  While people are watching.  I guess I can't completely compare myself to Dharma...

On the Facebook list for spouses and partners of people with MCL, a woman recently announced that her husband is no longer on Watch and Wait.  A scan indicated growth of the cancer.  I am the only one on the list whose spouse/partner is doing such extraordinary alternative measures.  Maybe, hopefully, the course Michael is taking will put off, indefinitely, any need for coming off of Watch and Wait.  Or it will make Watch and Wait something that can be forgotten, only a memory of a life-changing time.

Anyway, the woman I was talking about - her husband is having a colonoscopy as I type this.  They are checking to see if the cancer is in his colon - a place where MCL likes to take up residence.  The woman posted as she was waiting for her husband's procedure to be done.  She wrote that she was praying like she had never prayed before.  I happened to be on the computer the moment that her comment posted, and I told her I was joining her in prayer.  I really meant it.  I stopped.  I prayed.  Oh, how intimate it can be to pray for someone else, even if we don't know where they are and even if we've never met!  While in the midst of connecting to this woman and her situation, I saw how supported she is.  I could see how much strength she has.

And then I realized that I, too, am completely supported and my very essence is a core of amazing strength.

This last year has pushed me to draw upon that strength.  Hey!  Maybe there is even enough courage in here to be able to calmly and confidently and gratefully wear my bathing suit sometime!

I won't post photos.

Or maybe I will.

Dharma-ism for today:

 THIS is all that matters.

(Dharma and friend, Lisa, loving it up.)

Benchmarks Along The Way

We're coming upon a year since Michael's diagnosis.  How do I, the person who hardly does dates, know this?  Because Michael's birthday is in a week and a half.  I still have the cellular memory of the sights, sounds, and smells of the hospital waiting room where I sat while Michael underwent a lymph node biopsy on his 50th birthday.  I remember the voices on the television screen that was bolted onto the wall declaring over and over again that the approaching snowstorm would be a doozy.  The woman across the room was talking to the strangers next to her about her fears of driving in the snow.  But I can't remember if the storm lived up to the predictions or not.

I can still access the heavy anticipation that hung around me like a cloud for seven days while waiting for biopsy results and then the sinking of my stomach at the sound of Michael's voice telling me the diagnosis. 

Now I sit at my computer.  It's sunny.  Warm for a January day.  Michael is readying himself for work.  This past year has not brought what I expected.  Not the "normal" life (whatever that is) that I expected before the words, Mantle Cell Lymphoma, were introduced.  But, also, none of the days of chemo, etc., that I thought would be the instant result of the diagnosis.  

I don't know anything about life.  It just happens in all of its profundity and beauty and scariness and love and sickness and other ways in which we have not yet invented words to describe.  I am at its mercy.  And it does seem to be full of mercy.  

***

In Dharma news...  Right now, the little girl is getting spayed.  We weighed her when we got to the vet's:  38.8 pounds.  When she came into our home and hearts, just three months ago, she weighed a little over 18 pounds.  Our little puppy is becoming a dog!

The night we brought Dharma home.

Last night (almost three months after adoption and the night before the big spay).

It's Always Nice To Make Someone's Day

Jeff-The-Awesome-Oncologist to Michael:

"It makes my day to see how well you're doing.  See you in three months."

Can't say much about that, except...

Way to go Mikey!

We love you, 
Your two bestest girlfriends

Photo credit to Michael.

And This

Dharma is sleeping beside me.  She is on her side, and her neck is bent so that her head is upside down.  That makes her mouth gape a little, and it looks like she's smiling.

Did I ever write that I love this dog???

Dharma's cough is still here, but some playfulness has returned to the girl.  This past Saturday was the final test at dog training.  That didn't happen.  And tomorrow was to be spay day, but that also won't be happening.

I have not been feeling so fine, either.  There is a revolt going on in my gut - maybe from the Aleve that I took to quell the inflammation in my back that started when Dharma barreled into me causing a myriad of spasms the day before we were to leave for California.

But did I ever write about how much I love this dog???

When I lie in bed at night, surfing the waves of nausea, I also notice how much resistance I have to doing things like, for instance, going to a doctor.

 Fascinating evenings and nights as I ride the waves.

I come by my lack of enthusiasm for going to doctors honestly.  I did not come from a family that contributed much to the college funds of its physicians.  (My family didn't visit the veterinarian often, either, but somehow I am doing just that.  I never claimed consistency).  There is a reason that I changed my mind from wanting to become a nurse to choosing massage therapy.  I have the UTMOST respect for nurses.  When I was hospitalized a year and a half ago (see, I DO sometimes allow myself to be seen and helped by doctors), I adored my nurses.  Some of them were actually angels, I swear.  But I know myself, and while I deeply respect the rights of everyone to pursue health in whatever way they want, I'm better off, whenever possible, staying away from much of what modern medicine dictates.  That's just the way it is.

And this gives me renewed pause for thinking about Michael and his decisions regarding how best to handle the cancer.  I truly "get" his resistance to going the oncology route. We are much alike.
 
Last night, I saw how hard it was for Michael to watch me feel bad while not looking like I'm doing anything about it other than lying in bed and letting the waves have me.  He wanted me to do SOMETHING.  So today I'm doing something (that doesn't include the kind of person who prescribes invasive tests or any pharmaceuticals), because I also "get" how hard it is to watch someone not doing the things that you might, in your fearful thinking and heartfelt love for the other, want them to do.

Did I ever write about how much I love that man???


Dharmaisms for today: 

When the love of naps overcomes the love of power the world will know peace. (Jimi had it wrong.)

Naps are their own reward. - (What Gandhi really meant to say.)

Back in the Saddle Again

Came home last night from a week of rest and rehab in California.
The vacation, planned three months ago,
was to have been a post-Christmas visit to my daughter's.
All kinds of fun possibilities were considered in our plans:
painting, games, snowshoeing...
Instead,  many of the waking hours
(for humans and grand-dogs) were
spent in horizontal or near-horizontal positions.
Back spasms, colds, digestive chaos, a traumatized dew claw...
It was largely a time of kindly accepting our physical limitations, of being
one with the couch and bed, of basking in the homeyness that Daughter
has created so many miles away.

But I was with my family - Michael, Son, Daughter -
and all was good.
Do you know the last time I spent a week with my whole family?
Me either.

And then we came home
to
a very sick Dharma.
Sicker than a dog.
(What the hell does THAT mean?)

At the emergency vet a couple of hours after
putting down our bags,
x-rays and meds would cost us
enough to pay for flying back to California
again to try for a healthier week.
Assured that Dharma would probably survive the night,
we instead paid enough to get 1/3 of the way to California and back,
and left with nothing other than the knowledge of Yes, she's sick.
In 45 minutes, we will have a trip to the doggie docs who are fast becoming
members of our family.

This morning, as I entertained the possibility of never
interrupting the quiet, warm, enveloping goodness of my bed
by actually getting out of it for any reason,
I had to laugh at the way we humans have opinions
about how things should be.
It can be a fun diversion sometimes,
but oftentimes, it's just painful.
Setting aside for just a moment
the way I think I would like it all to be,
I notice that the way Life does itself is not only very entertaining
in and of itself,
it's also strikingly precious.

Even if I could,
I wouldn't change a thing.

 Tulip at Daughter's house.  Daughter always adds beautiful touches to home and to life.

Dharma talk for today:  It's okay to appreciate dog pees in the house and dog chews on the hands, because when they are replaced with a dog-tired dog coughing up a lung, you just might miss all of that energy.

Post-vet-visit update:  After a visit to the vet - with no x-rays needed - Dharma is here, sleeping (and coughing away) on antibiotics.  Her mom and dad will nurse her back to health with lots of love and ooohing and awwwing.

Happy, Merry, Peace & Joy

The light is slowly returning.  Dharma is becoming a great dog to have around.  Her very pee-ful and chewful past is almost forgotten and, for sure, completely forgiven.  Oh, is she a LOVE! 

Michael and I send our wishes for good health, lots of love, and pure joy to you all - now and always!

Thank you to:

Our families for your love and support.
Dan Goldstein for your kindness and generosity.
All of our wonderful teachers - Open Path, Qigong, and meditation. 
Michael's healthcare practitioners - it's obvious that you are knowledgeable and that you really care.
Friends, here and long-distance, who keep in contact and are "there for us".
My friend, Arnie, and our early morning, silent walks.  You and our walks help keep me sane.
My friend, Jill, for your nurturing massages and your belief in my work. You and your massages keep me whole.
My cousin, Larry.  So glad we connected as adults (at least I think that you're an adult - still wondering about myself).
My cousin, Linda, who I haven't seen since, The Four Tops' "Reach Out I'll Be There" was a hit .  I have lymphoma to thank for our new connection.
Anyone who is reading this - thanks for visiting (Is anyone out there???)

Oh, and thank you, lymphoma.  Thank you for the times when it appears that I'm falling apart, and for the way you have pushed me to, on my better days, let go, trust, and see that I am much more than I ever thought I was.  Thanks, too, for helping me to see just what an amazing man Michael is. 

Is Life awesome or what???

Bo Ring

But not bored.

This is what our lives look like on the outside:

Michael goes to work four days a week.  Most of the rest of his time is spent at appointments, giving me a break from Dharma, training Dharma, and doing meditation and qigong.

I go to exercise class with my mom twice a week.  Other than that, if I'm not sitting for hours with Dharma napping on my lap, I'm feeding or training her or taking her out to poop and pee.

It's eighteen days till Christmas, but you wouldn't know it around here.  No halls are decked, and all of the apparel appears to be attracting bits of torn cardboard from Dharma's favorite toy which is a chewed up packing tube.  Nope! No gay apparel to be found around here.

But the inside of our lives:

This daring adventure, this living with wonder and courage in the face of a teeth-baring cancer and a teeth-baring dog... What a rich place!  It's making me dig deep to see what is underneath the ideas of how life "should be".  Because, contrary to opinions that are as abundant as the snows that we USED TO GET in this part of the country, THIS is how life should be.  In all of its apparent boringness, craziness, and messiness. 

Being humbled by the strong wills of a husband and a dog who both will do things THEIR WAY, I have finally slowed down enough to see just how stunningly beautiful they both are in their knowing of how they need to navigate the unknowable. 


Not only do both Michael and Dharma create a life that is anything but boring, they have both also offered me the best Christmas present ever:  The gifts of themselves in all of their glory.

Dharma-ism for today:

Humans have classes for learning Spanish, English, German, etc., but even in the best dog training classes, there is very little attention given to learning Dog.  We canines are TRYING to tell you many things but, just as you need to be observant and ask questions in order to learn another language through immersion, you need to slow down, observe and ask questions to learn Dog.  And I guarantee that it's worth it.

Belated Thanks Giving

I hope your Thanksgiving consisted of whatever gives you joy.  Michael was with his family in Massachusetts, and my brother was working, so my mom, my son, and I went to a humongous, scrumptious, abundant buffet dinner at a nearby restaurant.  Since I've got a picky gut, I was only able to indulge in about 1% of the different types of food there, but I sure did enjoy looking at the rest of it all.  I wasn't looking with a "Wah! I wish that I could have that!"  And I wasn't drooling with desire or anything.  Just taking in the beauty of well-presented food. A buffet is a museum with colorful, sensuous, edible (for some people) art everywhere one looks. 

I really enjoy that.

I have also enjoyed reading and hearing about the different ways that friends expressed their gratitude around the Thanksgiving holiday.  One person is writing on Facebook something that she's grateful for each day.  Another friend told me about her list which her husband calls her Litany of Gratitude.  Another friend told me that in every moment that she remembers to, she says, "Thank you" to whomever or whatever it is that hears our hearts.

The other day, I was kind of playing around with being grateful for things when I noticed that I was appreciating my warm house, my sleeping puppy on my lap, my sweet Michael, etc.  I was appreciating the things that I like.  Now THAT seemed kind of out of balance.  In fact, I knew that if I were to write a list of things I was thankful for over my life up until this point, it would be 99.99% about what's most comfortable or about "getting what I want".  Looking over this imaginary list right now, I'm not finding a lot of gratitude when, at six years old, I lost my real-looking stuffed yellow kitty in the move from one house to another.  I don't see a big THANK YOU for the fact that, for the longest time during our relationship, I didn't realize that my high school boyfriend was having a great time secretly enjoying another woman. 

So today I started exploring what it's like to be grateful for the things that are uncomfortable, things that I think I don't like or want.  Being grateful for them right in the moment.

Sharp puppy teeth. 
Cancer in Michael's lymph nodes. 
The icky feeling I had when I awoke from a strange dream. 
Feeling a little shaky about wanting to wear my spandex workout tights to exercise class while my elderly exercise-mates showed up in their street clothes.

IT IS SO MUCH FUN to be grateful for the things that we were taught were not grateful-worthy!!!  It's all here, anyway.  Might as well embrace and dance with everything.  Do we think that if we aren't grateful for it, it will go away?  If that were the case, Michael would be cancer-free right now, Dharma would have quit peeing in the house, and no one would have to pay taxes.

But at some point, cancer landed softly, and today I just as softly looked at it with gratitude.  The nauseating feeling of my dream when I awoke this morning just turned to nothing when I honestly felt thankful for it. 

I don't know who or what I'm thanking. I don't know if any of this matters.  But I like it.  Just taking in the beauty of well-presented experiences.  Life is a museum with colorful, sensuous, edible (sometimes) art everywhere one looks. 

I really enjoy that.

Dharma talk for today:  "I'm thankful, even when all I get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is the same old kibble every day, and even when my slaves want me to do dumb things like 'sit' and 'stay'.  I show my gratitude by running around like a crazy girl.  Then, with my mouth wide open and teeth poised just so, hurling myself into my slaves' bodies. 

Humans don't always appreciate being shown gratitude.

For Michael, While You Are Away

It's 12:30 p.m.  I still have nine hours to go before I can relax into dreamland where NO ONE demands my attention. 

It's 12:30 p.m..  So far today:

I got Dharma out of her crate,
took her outside to poop and pee,
fed her,
took her outside to poop and pee,
put ear medication in her ears,
(great fun was had by all),
cleaned up a pee accident in my office
took her outside to poop and pee,
took a bath to wash away all of the sweat that comes with keeping up with this pup,
(Dharma was enclosed in the bathroom with a peanut butter-filled Kong.),
cleaned up a pee accident in the screened-in porch,
took her outside to poop and pee,
TRIED to socialize Dharma with a friend's dog,
(Oh, lordy...)
got a sweet, but short walk in with a friend,
(Dharma was safely shut in her crate.)
took her outside to poop and pee, (Dharma - not my friend),
fed Dharma lunch,
cleaned up a pee accident in my office,
took her outside to poop and pee,
TRIED to fix my lunch,
cleaned up a pee accident in the hall,
took her outside to poop and pee,
realized the soup was boiling frantically,
put Dharma in my now favorite possession -
the crate -
ate my lunch in peace,
realized that peeing inside the house
is possibly now considered a ticket outside,
realized that she has me trained well,
decided only Dharmas on leashes can now go outside -
briefly,
no chewing, no playing, no fun,
outdoor time is bizness time,
decided I'm really kind of old for this,
decided that I miss you,
and when you get home,
I'm going to pee on the floor,
so that I have to go outside,
alone,
on some trail,
for a long time.

Michael, I hope this account of my lovely day with your adorable pup doesn't make you want to stay in Massachusetts with your family forever.

But I'm not too worried.  We know where to find you.

Hee hee.

Inquiring Minds

Me:  Hello, Michael.  Since this blog is supposed to be (mostly) about you, and since people often inquire about you, I would like to ask you a few questions. 

First of all, the question that is most asked:  How are you?  I know it's kind of a big and open-ended question, but, well, how ARE you?

Michael: Oh, God.  (Laughter)  I'm doing really well.  I feel like I'm living with the best overall health that I've had in my life.  By far, I'm in the best place that I have been since my diagnosis, and probably even before that. I'm really enjoying life, and I'm in love with this fantastic blogger who I met years ago [Honest, he said that - I didn't sneak it in!]. And I have a new puppy that loves me.  I have family and friends who have been supportive of me through this whole process.  What more could I want?

Me:  You really seem to be living a life that doesn't include anything to do with cancer.  Today, what is the biggest pain about this cancer diagnosis?

Michael: I guess at this point, it still seems somewhat like a weight that is hanging over me - that it's still there, even though it doesn't cause me any symptoms,  pain, or fear.  I want it to go away, and I'm having to learn to deepen my ability to be patient.

Me:  And today, what is the biggest gift you have received along with this cancer diagnosis?

Michael:  I've received so many gifts that it's hard to pick one that is the greatest, but I'd have to say, overall, it's a profoundly deepened appreciation for life. 

Me:  Do you know that when Dharma is in a mellow place (yes, it does happen) and just hanging out on your lap, you two are so dang cute together?

Michael:  It's hard to top Dharma for cuteness. I just really enjoy sitting and having her on my lap, feeling the warmth of her body, and just holding her and loving her.  She's good therapy.  As long as she's asleep.

 


There ya have it, folks!  Straight from the mouth of my sweet hubby!

Any other questions???

The "D" Word

The subject very few want to talk about.

But I do.

Ever since my best friend died shortly after I turned fourteen, and ever since one of the twins I was carrying died before he was born, I have tried to figure out death.  This brain has a hard time with the concept.

When I was younger, death always came to take away old people - my great-grandparents, great-aunts and great-uncles.  I could justify that.  Old people wear out and die.  Makes sense.  (Of course, at the time, I never thought I would ever be one of the old people.)  In our family, we didn't do grief, so after the obligatory funeral, we went on with life as usual.

I didn't even grieve the death of my best friend.  It wasn't because I was some kind of young, but advanced, person who saw death from a deeply spiritual perspective - it was because I didn't know how to feel the immense feelings that normally come crashing in when someone so close is suddenly gone for good.

With all of the deaths that have occurred around me, I don't think that I truly felt the heart-breaking loss of someone I loved until the best-dog-in-the-world, Buddha, died last year.  The deep ache was intense and immediate.  It knocked me to my knees.  I always said that the Buddha dog was my teacher.  His teachings continued with his death. 

Oh.  I haven't cried about him in so long, but writing about it now, the floodgates have opened.

If I'm not interrupted by Someone wanting me to watch a puppy training video or the constant interruption of Dharma puppy wanting to play and eat my hands, I'm interrupted by uncontrollable, tearful outbreaks.

Okay.  Back to the subject at hand.

Unless a person has already died in some respects, a cancer diagnosis will probably bring up death issues and plaster them all over the walls so that they can't be ignored.

And is it me, or have you noticed that people are dying all the time?  A day doesn't go by where I am not aware of strangers in other countries dying, thanks to our drones; other strangers dying from the effects of Hurricane Sandy; people I know dying of disease; friends of people I know dying of all kinds of things.  We're dropping like flies, I tell ya.

It's one of the most common events to take place here, and I still don't understand it.  I really don't think that death was created in a way where brains could understand it, other than to know that life is born and later dies.  The end.

Sometimes, I feel completely at peace with the "D" word - it's a normal and natural phenomenon. The unknown, which I am curious to explore when the time arrives.  As Ram Dass' friend said about death, "Tell them that it's absolutely safe!"

Still, I don't even know for sure that anything really dies.  The body morphs.  Does the identification of "I", "me" go anywhere?  If so, how?  If you have an opinion about that, I would love to hear it.

It's all amazing.  A mystery.

The other night at about 1:00 a.m., Michael and I put blankets on the grass and some of those rice-filled, microwaveable shoulder warmers inside our coats, then we stretched out in the dark and cold to watch a meteor shower, which we never saw because it was hidden in the glow of the city lights.  The sky was HUGE beyond imagination above us and, I assume, below us and all around us.  The stars, so far away, were messengers from the vastness of the universe and beyond, reminding us how small we are, yet how much a part of it all we are, also.

Noticing the perfection of the universe, I realized that all that occurs here on this little planet (including our death and the deaths of people we love) must also be perfect.  How can this little part be any different than the whole? 



Latest Dharma teaching:  Run like a wild woman (or man) and let no obstacles get in your way (crawl under them, if you have to).  And after you have exhausted yourself with complete and utter recklessness, willingly succumb to a big, delicious, snoreful nap.  No thoughts of the future or dying; no stories about being abandoned at an early age.  Only this, right now.

 Dharma demonstrating delicious, snoreful nap - to be done on a human's lap, of course

Healing (Or Not) Into Something Or Other

I guess puppy training videos are boring to some people.  And to some dogs.  Both Michael and Dharma crashed out during the exciting part about learning to roll over.

I've never been one to care if a dog can roll over or play dead.  What are the uses for those skills?  If it's not practical, I don't need to expend the energy.  Still, I'm able to stay awake (unlike some two-leggeds and four-leggeds...) while watching various dogs rolling onto their backs to please some human who likes such things. 

e

Dad and baby, cuttin' the zzzzzzs

Before Someone interrupted my attempt at writing this blog post, saying it was time to watch a dog training video, (and then that Someone interrupted the video by falling asleep.  Ahem...), I was GOING TO write about how fittingly I titled this Healing Into Life blog back in February, and how I didn't realize it until now.  (Geniuses don't always immediately realize their brilliance, I have heard.)

Confession:  I kinda stole my blog title from a book of Stephen Levine's which I first read in the late '80s - Healing Into Life and Death.  (I'm also told that geniuses are smart enough to not always have to reinvent the wheel, so stealing is a good saver of energy.)  At the time of Michael's diagnosis, I wanted to focus on the "healing into life" part.  I wasn't willing to entertain the death part, even though 100% of all the bodies around are moving in that direction.

Anyway, this diagnosis has been instrumental in changing and healing our lives in more ways than I'm probably aware of.  And for that, I am continually in awe and grateful.

I may not always look or sound happy about it.  I have dumped out my rage in emails to understanding friends, cried buckets of tears in numerous public places, and had days when my bed's magnetic force wouldn't let me get up.  But I've also learned a lot about myself, watched Michael learn about himself, been the recipient of generosity bigger than I knew could exist, and felt my heart soften immensely (I needed that). 

The experiences we are having while living with this cancer are not special.  Everyone reading this has been touched by some big loss, a devastating diagnosis, or a huge disappointment that changed everything.  It's all a part of being human.  Maybe we signed up for this.  Maybe it's all part of some extraordinary plan.  Maybe it just is.  I have no idea.

But here we are.



My Dharma teacher is showing me The Way.  Today's lesson:  Be so empty, so living in wonder, that when a bird flies overhead, you have no choice but to sit down and watch like you've never seen anything like it before.

Introducing...

...our new baby!

 This is Dharma.

 Best guess is that she is fourteen weeks old.  She's a lab mix (the animal control people who picked her up in Kansas thought she was a black St. Bernard mix.  Oh, my...)

 Black dogs are hard to to photograph.  But they are not hard to love.

Dharma:  Hinduism describes dharma as the natural universal laws whose observance enables humans to be contented and happy, and to save [themselves] from degradation and suffering. Dharma is the moral law combined with spiritual discipline that guides one's life. Hindus consider dharma the very foundation of life. It means "that which holds" the people of this world and the whole creation. Dharma is the "law of being" without which things cannot exist.

So far, we are three for three in the poop and pee in the house game.  We'll try harder to figure out the outdoors bathroom tomorrow when it's light outside.  

Dharma's skills so far (besides pooping and peeing in the house): She knows "Sit" and she mostly comes when called.  

Oh, we are so in love!

Watching

We visited with Jeff (oncologist) again yesterday.  Doing Watching and Waiting or Watchful Waiting or Watch, Wait, and Worry (however one wants to call it), means visiting Jeff every two months.

Jeff checks the already enlarged nodes down there and checks to see if any neck nodes are suspicious.  He also checks for an enlarged spleen.  Michael passed the palpation tests, and he's feeling fine - no symptoms of tiredness, weight loss, night sweats, etc.

So....  we continue to watch and wait.

I've decided that I'd prefer to just call it "Watching".  Being here now.  Those fears I wrote about in my last post...  they, like Waiting, are about a future that I don't know.  I don't find peace there.  But it's really nice here in this moment as I look out at the gray skies and the trees with yellowing leaves outside my window and as I listen to Michael running water in the kitchen.

I love "Watching" Michael feeling well.  This is very good right now.