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.