246. CANCER NATION

From the Archives (September 2006) I figured out today that 18 people in my family or immediate circle of friends or work peers have been diagnosed with cancer in the last 8 years.

Can somebody tell me what in the hell is going on?

I mean, I appreciate the medical research that (sometimes) gets my loved ones to the other side of chemo and all the medical breakthroughs and all that, but what is going on? Is our environment poisoning us because we’ve filled it so full of chemicals? Are the hormones they've put in our food to blame? Or what?

And what’s the connection with obesity (if there is one), because I’m sorry, but I don’t buy the argument that larger portions at restaurants explains these statistics adequately.

Then there are those studies no one talks about that say that most people who are fat do not actually overeat and that some people who are fat are far healthier than thin people.

So what’s really making us grow?

And speaking of size, sales of wasteful SUVs are down 45 percent and sales of small cars are up 70 percent, thanks to the increasing gas prices.

Meanwhile, today’s Yahoo! headline is “GDP growth increases slightly in spring.”

I read that line and immediately thought about these 18 people who have been diagnosed with cancer.

Does anyone else consider it troubling that every time a person is diagnosed with cancer our GDP goes up?

232. THE MEANEST FLOWER, AND POWERFUL BODIES REDUCED TO TENDER BATTLEGROUNDS

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
(Wm. Wordsworth, from Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood)

From the Archives. (June 2006) My former long-term partner has had to resort to anti-depressants to get through her chemo and her eyes look so damn haunted that I can hardly bear to look at her right now.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, she’s a 43-year-old triathlete with breast cancer who can hardly walk up the stairs now on bad days.

OF COURSE she’s depressed. And overwhelmed. And looking at the strong possibility of not living till old age. And exhausted. And in pain. And weak. And haunted.

And her medical degree, although helpful, comes with loads of statistics about every thing that can go wrong between now and the end of her life.

Who wouldn’t be depressed given this scenario?

I’m glad we’re having dinner tonight, but hate seeing her so sick, have such a very hard time swallowing this reality.

•

Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
(William Wordsworth, from Ode: Intimations of Immortality, from Recollections of Early Childhood)

Now it is Sunday evening and I just ran inside after getting drenched in a downpour.

We’re in that stage of summer when there’s a thunderstorm with lightning practically every night and it is humid but beautiful so long as you keep the AC blasting.

Last night’s full moon was incredible. Danishgrrrl and I snuggled into the hammock and watched it darting in and out of the clouds, so luminous and beautiful and huge, then fell asleep with it peeking into our windows just ahead of the storms.

We slept in this morning, then went for a long hike by the river, where we hung out on the rocks and in the water and talked a lot before hanging out in the hammock again.

(Did I mention that the back yard is looking so cool now that a winding creek runs through it, inviting people to step out of the sunshine and into its shaded spaces?)

•

Had dinner with Tree Friday night to celebrate the end of her chemo. She looks and feels good now and even sauntered through the Race for the Cure on Saturday.

She’s not her normal marathon-running self yet but is doing so much better now that chemo has ended and even her hair is beginning to grow back in a little.

Radiation is easier but now she’s covered with tattoos and ink marks and plastic bulls’ eyes that tell the technicians where to zap her.

I guess you could say that her body is a battleground in an entirely different way than we’ve thought about that battleground before.

She said that Pottergrrl is terrified of this cancer and has returned to the Seventh Day Adventist vegan meals of her formative years.

I guess controlling the food you eat as a response to seemingly healthy people around you suddenly become gravely ill could provide some semblance of control, convince you that (given enough spinach) you might actually remain immune to death and illness.

And yeah,spinach could keep you healthy for a long time but, let’s face it, we’re all going to die.

I got no qualms with that, but would someone please get the sex toys out of the house before my family shows up to claim my stuff?


READING: Sartre’s Existentialism and Human Emotions

LISTENING TO: the glorious, sexy rain. Also weaklazyliar’s “Forgive Me”: I thought that truth was the line that anchored the kite. I thought that love was a kite to fly. I thought that I was holding on, but I was holding on to nothing, holding onto nothing. Forgive me.

BEST-OF SPAM: She needs better sexx, navy bean!!!

74. WELL WITH HER SOUL

From the Archives

(April 2005) Yesterday was a long hard day.

My friend and former publishing colleague Florence, an incredibly kind, seemingly healthy and intensely driven woman, was diagnosed with nonHodkins lymphoma eleven months ago and has been in treatment ever since. Her treatment just ended and she had tests this week to check its effectiveness.

Florence grew up in the mountains with a hard father.

We talk about that sometimes.

She says, When people ask you how you turned out so functional (well...), tell them that you had a kind grandmother.

See, Florence’s theory is that, even if you have a hard childhood, you’ll turn out okay if you have at least one good person in your life who is kind to you and loves you unconditionally.

Many Christians make me break out in hives but not Florence, who really does try to live Jesus's teachings and whose beaming face I remember so vividly from my same-sex wedding.

Florence sent the following on the same day that I was at the hospital with Louisville for her cancer follow-up tests.

I read it, thought about how hard her's and Louisville’s and Lynne's treatment were, about how much they just wanted to live and be healthy and loved, and felt like the most vacuous person on the planet for getting annoyed by traffic when I’m alive and healthy and able to see a blooming vibrant world every day.

Florence wrote:

Dear Family,
I go tomorrow to get the results of the CT scans. I desperately want to hear the words “cancer free” and to be placed in the category of patients who are in full remission. I still plead with God, on a regular basis, to leave me here until my children are grown and married, with babies of their own so that I can love them, hold them, spoil them. I want to grow old alongside my husband, to retire from working and to travel all over this country in an Airstream, possibly doing mission work, definitely doing volunteer work. I want to build a new home on our land and have dogs, cats, horses, goats, maybe even a llama, but always enough room for any who need a safe place to sojourn, to rest, to regain their footing. I want to keep living and to be healthy, strong and full of joy.

In the last 11 months, I have been on an incredible journey that has been all uphill. I didn’t really want to travel this particular path but found Jesus was there, right in front of me. He has taken every step I have, but always one step ahead. And when I have kept my eyes on Him, my journey has been an easy one; I have barely been tired. But in the times when I have taken my eyes off Him and looked down, instead, at my own feet, I have stumbled and fallen. I have called out to Him and He has turned and offered me His hand. He has pulled me up and He has guided my steps over the areas on this path that I could in no way traverse on my own. I have been in the presence of Jesus these last 11 months.

I have become accustomed—in fact, almost comfortable—with the uphill climb and the pace, the feel of the burn in my soul. I want to keep climbing, for I have a very long way to go to become the person that God intends for me to be. I do not want to become complacent, or even worse, to start the descent back into the darkness. I want to continue to be in His presence, I want to be brave enough to follow.

So, I want to say on this beautiful day that, whatever I hear tomorrow, I know and I believe that it will be okay. Whatever is ahead, I want, more than any of my other wants, to find myself exactly where He wants me to be, within His will for my life. Because I believe, whatever God has in store for me next, He will walk with me, uphill, through it, and He will give me the courage, strength, grace, peace and joy to continue putting one foot in front of the other, one step at at time. And wherever this journey may take me, please know, that it is well, it is well, with my soul.

Trusting and believing,
Florence

And, after 11 hard, hard months, the news was good. Florence has no growths, her blood work and scans are good, and there’s no indication that she’ll have a recurrence any time soon.

So now it’s time to grow her hair back so I can teach her how to spike it with product!