Even this far along in my recovery, I fight with a desire for "more." I want to enjoy food as much as I used to, I want the energy that I had a year ago, I want to live oblivious to my health. When I am in this "wanting more" mode, I forget all the progress I have made, and I measure myself by the yardstick of what I don't have. I read a poem today that captured it for me.
But the mind always
wants more than it has -
one more bright day of sun,
one more clear night in bed
with the moon; one more hour
to get the words right; one
more chance for the heart in hiding
to emerge from its thicket
in dried grasses - as if this quiet day
with its tentative light weren't enough,
as if joy weren't strewn all around.
- Holly Hughes
from Mind Wanting More
Well, one doesn't have to be a cancer survivor to live in a state of wanting more.
Here, though, is the amazing thing..."this quiet day with its tentative light" is absolutely and perfectly enough. And the poet is right...there is joy strewn all around. And all I have to do is change my perspective one half a turn and I realize I'm blessed with this ordinary Tuesday.
Isn't it something that joy makes itself available to us, even when we've neglected it for long periods of time!
Hey, here is my plan. I am going to take all the things that I don't have, along with all the things I want more of, and put them up on the top shelf in an old storage cabinet in my garage. There is some room right next to a large heap marked "painful memories I got tired of visiting." Since I already avoid that cabinet at all costs (rather than face the task of cleaning it out), I will almost never encounter the stuff that I don't have. It will simply collect dust. At some point in the future, I will realize I have no use for any of it anyway, and put everything from that shelf out at the curb on Monday morning for the garbage man to haul away. And I wont miss it at all!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
deeper things - musical interlude -
Winding down...the last video I posted was a video from a "poetry slam." I am greatly impressed by the talent that writing and performing a poetry slam requires. Here is one of the best I have heard. It's a poem about Beethoven. If after hearing it (or instead of hearing it)...you care to listen to a snippet of Beethoven, I have also included a video of a recording of a movement from the 9th Symphony. If music is capable of eliciting powerful emotion, and we know that it is...I contend that there has never been a more powerful piece of music written than Beethoven's 9th symphony. Of course, as in my enjoyment of poetry, I have no real formal music background; I just love Beethoven's 9th. Ode to joy!!!! Can anything top that? Just listen to this guy's poem about Beethovan, and then listen to a performance of Beethoven himself. What magic, what music! Go ahead...listen...you can hear them both in about 10 minutes...there is nothing on TV right now anyway! Oh, listen... you can hear tears, you can hear laughter...I don't know anything, but the poem and the music inspire me...happy day...happy summer! To hear a good symphony orchestra play the complete 9th symphony, sitting with eyes closed and heart open...one feels transported to heaven!
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Deeper things - GOD DOESN'T WASTE PAIN
The title of this post reflects one of the most profound statements I have encountered. I would like to claim it as my own original thought, but, truth be told, I heard it from a friend I met when I was consulting a few years ago at a local private college. Jackie, a senior at this college, had lost her boyfriend (fiance?), a fellow college student who died suddenly after collapsing during a pick-up basketball game with a couple of other students. He had an undiagnosed heart defect which led to his heart attack. The entire college was stunned with the loss of this gentle, loving, compassionate, godly and popular student, though, obviously, none more deeply than Jackie. When I recently heard Jackie say "God doesn't waste pain," it was as if God Himself were tapping me on the shoulder and saying, "...get it?"
God doesn't waste pain.
Oh, how that has helped me make sense out of Romans 8:28 ("...all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose"). How that statement has helped me make sense of my own ordeal with cancer!
What amazing lessons God has taught me through this cancer journey. Sometimes, as I was walking through "the valley of the shadow of death" my vision was clouded by despair and pain. Sometimes it was clouded by fear. Sometimes it still is. But more strongly than ever, I can say, "thou art with me" and mean it.
Since, God willing, I am winding this blog down (July 31 will mark one year since I started this blog, and a fitting time to bring it to a close), I have been reflecting on a few of the entries that meant the most to me. The entry from August 2009, entitled "Six Amazing Words" was one of them. Of course, you faithful readers remember, but for the one or two who don't, the six amazing words were "Your love is better than life" from Psalm 63. The verse came to me loudly and clearly as I was driving to pick up some Chinese food a week after being diagnosed with cancer. At that time, the edge of anxiety and the thought about the possibility that my own life could succumb to cancer was just starting to make it's way into my brain. The verse from Psalm 63, one that I was not really aware that I had memorized, was a soothing balm.
So, here are four amazing words...not a verse from scripture, but I believe words that could have come from the very heart of God...
God doesn't waste pain.
In love, He uses it to bring forth something new and awesome...
Did not Jesus, Himself, for the joy set before Him, endure the cross...?
God doesn't waste pain.
Oh, how that has helped me make sense out of Romans 8:28 ("...all things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to His purpose"). How that statement has helped me make sense of my own ordeal with cancer!
What amazing lessons God has taught me through this cancer journey. Sometimes, as I was walking through "the valley of the shadow of death" my vision was clouded by despair and pain. Sometimes it was clouded by fear. Sometimes it still is. But more strongly than ever, I can say, "thou art with me" and mean it.
Since, God willing, I am winding this blog down (July 31 will mark one year since I started this blog, and a fitting time to bring it to a close), I have been reflecting on a few of the entries that meant the most to me. The entry from August 2009, entitled "Six Amazing Words" was one of them. Of course, you faithful readers remember, but for the one or two who don't, the six amazing words were "Your love is better than life" from Psalm 63. The verse came to me loudly and clearly as I was driving to pick up some Chinese food a week after being diagnosed with cancer. At that time, the edge of anxiety and the thought about the possibility that my own life could succumb to cancer was just starting to make it's way into my brain. The verse from Psalm 63, one that I was not really aware that I had memorized, was a soothing balm.
So, here are four amazing words...not a verse from scripture, but I believe words that could have come from the very heart of God...
God doesn't waste pain.
In love, He uses it to bring forth something new and awesome...
Did not Jesus, Himself, for the joy set before Him, endure the cross...?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
deeper things - poetry slam - wake up!
Gabrielle Bouliane died less than two months after this poetry slam performance (she died toward the end of January 2010). She was dying while I was reviving from my chemo and radiation which was completed in October 2009...it could just as easily have been the reverse. My time (and yours) will be here any day now... This is her heart. Wow... and I complain about not having saliva or being able to eat dry foods or having low energy? Take this and let it permeate your heart. So... remind me... what is it that is stopping us from doing what we need to do and saying what we need to say that will add meaning and value to our lives NOW? Give it some thought.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
checking in - spaciousness and stillness
It's been awhile since I've given a progress report... So...here it is.
Energy - About 80% restored. I no longer nap during the day. I am working full time without any problem. In the past two days, I have walked the equivalent of 10 miles, and in the last five days, I have walked 21 miles. That's about equal to my pre-treatment activity. Most mornings, I am greeting the day with a two mile walk, (and often some chi gong exercises) and really enjoying it. I am much lighter and my muscular strength is probably half what it was...I'd like to start doing some light weight training soon. Sometimes at night, I feel myself crash when we sit down to watch a TV show...Sometimes, it is almost painful...but I wake up refreshed.
Taste. About 75 % restored. For the most part, I do not taste foods as strongly as I used to. Some foods, particularly sweets, are still a bit unpredictable, and at times, unpleasant. Milk often tastes a bit sour. I ate a few bananas this past week...bananas for some reason taste funny now. I used to love eggs...now, sometimes, I do not like the taste of eggs at all. If a food is spicy, it is difficult to describe how harshly it burns...it is virtually intolerable. I ate a bagel, cream cheese and lox for breakfast today (my traditional Saturday morning breakfast)...it wasn't bad, but it was a lot of work. Eating with minimal saliva is more of a chore and less enjoyable, but I have come a long way back. I just discovered ARBY's sells an apple turnover that tastes just delicious to me with a cup of coffee or tea. I pass an ARBY's on my way home from the office, and I fear I will become addicted to this treat. I am enjoying coffee a lot. I drink green tea, but tea now always leaves an unpleasant aftertaste. I drink gallons of water, but other than coffee or tea, most other drinks, such as fruit juices, taste weird.
Salivary function. About 25% restored. This is the worst of the lingering aftereffects. I do not know yet whether I will still improve here or just have to learn to live with this. I do have some saliva, but it is not "normal" and I frequently feel like I have to rinse my mouth. Unless I am eating something with sauce on it, or lots of moisture in it, like oranges or melons, I have to drink water to swallow. With meat, chicken, bread, crackers...if I don't have water, the food gets stuck in my throat. When I am outdoors or am doing a lot of talking, my mouth gets really dry really fast if I am not sipping water. Now that the weather is warmer, it's not as bad as it was in the cold.
Neuropathy. Another side effect of chemo that has not gone away. My fingers and toes often tingle. Sometimes my whole right arm is a bit painful. When I wake up in the morning, and am nice and warm, I barely notice it...it seems to get worse as the day goes on. But, it is very manageable, and does not impair walking or grasping or typing, etc. If it gets no worse, it's no real problem, just a bit annoying.
Some days I just feel lethargic and a bit nauseated and just not well. They seem to be isolated...I just go on with the day and invariably the next day I feel better. This is a new reality for me, having come from a place of almost unbelievable continuous health. I hardly knew what it meant to feel "under the weather." I never was an energy superstar, and my normal pace was first or second gear, but now, I am learning to adjust to having these days that just aren't so hot. Today, actually, I have felt as good as I have felt in almost a year. If I could forget about the saliva, I would say today I felt like my old self.
SPACIOUSNESS AND STILLNESS. I have a new longing...well, not new, but more pronounced. It is a longing for stillness and spaciousness. I have difficulty putting this into words...but when I am walking early morning, or practicing meditation, or just sitting quietly without any distractions, I feel myself move into a place of deeper peace and fulfillment, and it's like thirst-quenching is to a thirsty person. Today while I was walking I had this thought...life begins with tremendous spaciousness...then, as the years go by, we fill that space more and more until at some point, there is virtually no space between the barrage of stimulus at all...we just move from one hectic moment to the next hectic moment...then, as we approach old age, infirmity, and ultimately death...we begin to again have some spaciousness, depending on the speed of that process. Well, friends, let me tell you...I am reclaiming some of that back right now. I am certainly not yet old (isn't it something how "old" is a relative term, and moves a little further down the road than we presently are...) and God willing, have some healthy days ahead...and I never want to fill them up to overflowing with noise, activity or mind racing thinking again. NO SIR! Give me quiet walks, quiet times with God, quiet time to contemplate and meditate. SPACIOUSNESS AND STILLNESS....
While the longing for spaciousness and stillness seems to me a generally good and healthy pursuit...wouldn't you know, there is a bit of a dark side to this that harkens back to my past. My mother, who was a generally sunny, cheerful and wonderful woman, briefly entered a state of catatonic depression...she became a statue...and required shock treatment ...electroconvulsive therapy...back in 1964. After a few weeks of brain zapping with electricity, she snapped out of it, and was her cheery self again for about thirty years until a relapse of her depression sometime in the 1990's... This second bout with depression responded well to Lithium which I believe she stayed on for the rest of her life. She died when she was 84, and did not have another episode of depression during the last 8 or so years of her life. Around the same time that my mother had her initial episode of catatonia and depression in the 60's...(I was an adolescent) I began having some milder symptoms myself. No one noticed. NO ONE NOTICED! When I was a freshman in college, at the State University of New York at Albany, I lived in an old dorm that was a spillover dorm (if I remember correctly) from the old teachers college, and was located a few miles away from the campus. They put freshman in this dorm because all the modern campus dorms were full and they had to find another place to stick us. Since it was an old dorm, it was built like an old dorm...long dark hallways, etc. I went through a phase where I would stand as still as a statue in the window sill of a very large window at the end of a very long hall. I would particularly do this after the hall lights were turned out around midnight, and only the exit signs were lit, making for a very dark tunnel like effect. I do not remember how long I would stand this way, and I was often high on a variety of hallucinogens, being in college in New York in the late 60's. I was virtually invisible to people coming back to the dorm late, or getting up to use the bathroom down the hall...I was not noticed because, I think, no one expected to see a person standing absolutely still on the ledge of a large window at the end of the hall. When I was noticed, people would startle, and then say something to the effect of "what the hell are you doing standing on the window sill up there?" I would calmly reply something to the effect of "I am not doing anything" or else, " I am just standing here." Surprisingly, those explanations generally seemed to suffice, given it was the 60's and being weird was generally acceptable. Now... over the course of the last decade...there are times I find myself given to similar moments like this...I drive somewhere, turn off my car, but do not move...I stay completely still for a minute, maybe five.... for no particular reason...I "stop" for a bit of time, and then continue doing what I set out to do. This is quite interesting... to me. I am fully in control, and am... by no means... stuck. I don't do this often, but I have an appreciation of this stillness and this "stopping " that is, perhaps, a bit eccentric. I guess a little bit of eccentricity is OK, even (or especially) for a psychologist. What is odd to me is that I haven't encountered such a phenomena in others. Why always the press to "keep going." Try it...just completely stop...be really, really, really still...just for a minute or two...it wont hurt you, and you may even enjoy it...then resume your activity where you left off. Perhaps this eccentricity has nothing at all to do with my longing for a more meditative and spiritual stillness and quiet... ...perhaps...
While I was nearing the end of radiation treatment, I had such a moment of "stopping" on the radiation table, and I wrote a short, one paragraph post (Sept 28 '09) hinting at it in a bit more descriptive manner...I was, by then, taking narcotics, and not saying anything too concretely. Here is the link to copy and paste in your browser if you care to read it...or you can go to the 2009 posts in the blog archive to the right, and click on September and then the entry that's titled "hold a second absolutely still." I am not sure if this post or that one makes more sense...
A slightly different perspective on the same concept.
Energy - About 80% restored. I no longer nap during the day. I am working full time without any problem. In the past two days, I have walked the equivalent of 10 miles, and in the last five days, I have walked 21 miles. That's about equal to my pre-treatment activity. Most mornings, I am greeting the day with a two mile walk, (and often some chi gong exercises) and really enjoying it. I am much lighter and my muscular strength is probably half what it was...I'd like to start doing some light weight training soon. Sometimes at night, I feel myself crash when we sit down to watch a TV show...Sometimes, it is almost painful...but I wake up refreshed.
Taste. About 75 % restored. For the most part, I do not taste foods as strongly as I used to. Some foods, particularly sweets, are still a bit unpredictable, and at times, unpleasant. Milk often tastes a bit sour. I ate a few bananas this past week...bananas for some reason taste funny now. I used to love eggs...now, sometimes, I do not like the taste of eggs at all. If a food is spicy, it is difficult to describe how harshly it burns...it is virtually intolerable. I ate a bagel, cream cheese and lox for breakfast today (my traditional Saturday morning breakfast)...it wasn't bad, but it was a lot of work. Eating with minimal saliva is more of a chore and less enjoyable, but I have come a long way back. I just discovered ARBY's sells an apple turnover that tastes just delicious to me with a cup of coffee or tea. I pass an ARBY's on my way home from the office, and I fear I will become addicted to this treat. I am enjoying coffee a lot. I drink green tea, but tea now always leaves an unpleasant aftertaste. I drink gallons of water, but other than coffee or tea, most other drinks, such as fruit juices, taste weird.
Salivary function. About 25% restored. This is the worst of the lingering aftereffects. I do not know yet whether I will still improve here or just have to learn to live with this. I do have some saliva, but it is not "normal" and I frequently feel like I have to rinse my mouth. Unless I am eating something with sauce on it, or lots of moisture in it, like oranges or melons, I have to drink water to swallow. With meat, chicken, bread, crackers...if I don't have water, the food gets stuck in my throat. When I am outdoors or am doing a lot of talking, my mouth gets really dry really fast if I am not sipping water. Now that the weather is warmer, it's not as bad as it was in the cold.
Neuropathy. Another side effect of chemo that has not gone away. My fingers and toes often tingle. Sometimes my whole right arm is a bit painful. When I wake up in the morning, and am nice and warm, I barely notice it...it seems to get worse as the day goes on. But, it is very manageable, and does not impair walking or grasping or typing, etc. If it gets no worse, it's no real problem, just a bit annoying.
Some days I just feel lethargic and a bit nauseated and just not well. They seem to be isolated...I just go on with the day and invariably the next day I feel better. This is a new reality for me, having come from a place of almost unbelievable continuous health. I hardly knew what it meant to feel "under the weather." I never was an energy superstar, and my normal pace was first or second gear, but now, I am learning to adjust to having these days that just aren't so hot. Today, actually, I have felt as good as I have felt in almost a year. If I could forget about the saliva, I would say today I felt like my old self.
SPACIOUSNESS AND STILLNESS. I have a new longing...well, not new, but more pronounced. It is a longing for stillness and spaciousness. I have difficulty putting this into words...but when I am walking early morning, or practicing meditation, or just sitting quietly without any distractions, I feel myself move into a place of deeper peace and fulfillment, and it's like thirst-quenching is to a thirsty person. Today while I was walking I had this thought...life begins with tremendous spaciousness...then, as the years go by, we fill that space more and more until at some point, there is virtually no space between the barrage of stimulus at all...we just move from one hectic moment to the next hectic moment...then, as we approach old age, infirmity, and ultimately death...we begin to again have some spaciousness, depending on the speed of that process. Well, friends, let me tell you...I am reclaiming some of that back right now. I am certainly not yet old (isn't it something how "old" is a relative term, and moves a little further down the road than we presently are...) and God willing, have some healthy days ahead...and I never want to fill them up to overflowing with noise, activity or mind racing thinking again. NO SIR! Give me quiet walks, quiet times with God, quiet time to contemplate and meditate. SPACIOUSNESS AND STILLNESS....
While the longing for spaciousness and stillness seems to me a generally good and healthy pursuit...wouldn't you know, there is a bit of a dark side to this that harkens back to my past. My mother, who was a generally sunny, cheerful and wonderful woman, briefly entered a state of catatonic depression...she became a statue...and required shock treatment ...electroconvulsive therapy...back in 1964. After a few weeks of brain zapping with electricity, she snapped out of it, and was her cheery self again for about thirty years until a relapse of her depression sometime in the 1990's... This second bout with depression responded well to Lithium which I believe she stayed on for the rest of her life. She died when she was 84, and did not have another episode of depression during the last 8 or so years of her life. Around the same time that my mother had her initial episode of catatonia and depression in the 60's...(I was an adolescent) I began having some milder symptoms myself. No one noticed. NO ONE NOTICED! When I was a freshman in college, at the State University of New York at Albany, I lived in an old dorm that was a spillover dorm (if I remember correctly) from the old teachers college, and was located a few miles away from the campus. They put freshman in this dorm because all the modern campus dorms were full and they had to find another place to stick us. Since it was an old dorm, it was built like an old dorm...long dark hallways, etc. I went through a phase where I would stand as still as a statue in the window sill of a very large window at the end of a very long hall. I would particularly do this after the hall lights were turned out around midnight, and only the exit signs were lit, making for a very dark tunnel like effect. I do not remember how long I would stand this way, and I was often high on a variety of hallucinogens, being in college in New York in the late 60's. I was virtually invisible to people coming back to the dorm late, or getting up to use the bathroom down the hall...I was not noticed because, I think, no one expected to see a person standing absolutely still on the ledge of a large window at the end of the hall. When I was noticed, people would startle, and then say something to the effect of "what the hell are you doing standing on the window sill up there?" I would calmly reply something to the effect of "I am not doing anything" or else, " I am just standing here." Surprisingly, those explanations generally seemed to suffice, given it was the 60's and being weird was generally acceptable. Now... over the course of the last decade...there are times I find myself given to similar moments like this...I drive somewhere, turn off my car, but do not move...I stay completely still for a minute, maybe five.... for no particular reason...I "stop" for a bit of time, and then continue doing what I set out to do. This is quite interesting... to me. I am fully in control, and am... by no means... stuck. I don't do this often, but I have an appreciation of this stillness and this "stopping " that is, perhaps, a bit eccentric. I guess a little bit of eccentricity is OK, even (or especially) for a psychologist. What is odd to me is that I haven't encountered such a phenomena in others. Why always the press to "keep going." Try it...just completely stop...be really, really, really still...just for a minute or two...it wont hurt you, and you may even enjoy it...then resume your activity where you left off. Perhaps this eccentricity has nothing at all to do with my longing for a more meditative and spiritual stillness and quiet... ...perhaps...
While I was nearing the end of radiation treatment, I had such a moment of "stopping" on the radiation table, and I wrote a short, one paragraph post (Sept 28 '09) hinting at it in a bit more descriptive manner...I was, by then, taking narcotics, and not saying anything too concretely. Here is the link to copy and paste in your browser if you care to read it...or you can go to the 2009 posts in the blog archive to the right, and click on September and then the entry that's titled "hold a second absolutely still." I am not sure if this post or that one makes more sense...
http://sblumsblog.blogspot.com/2009/09/checking-in-hold-second-absolutely.html
A slightly different perspective on the same concept.
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