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.