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