When Things Stop Working
The hand of an almost stranger touched my heart
He knows when to ask, so the tears well and start.
There is a short gaze, I turn away,
To spare another the pain that breaks me each day.
I wallow in my cup, he cradles my hand
So many hold me, so it’s not hard to stand.
I carry it alone but am held up so high,
so only brief tears with no room for the sighs.
The hands of a friend just touched my heart, with the hands of a friend, I won’t fall apart.
A brief update:
Said friend asked with a smile how the start of my New Year was going. Tears erupt. I had just come from the doctor and learned that I had a new good size tumor in the Sternum. While the drug is working everywhere else, this new tumor arrived. Merry fucking Christmas. The doctors continue to be shocked on the oddity of this cancer. So, we will rid this with radiation to lesson the astounding pain it causes, and add a chem to the Afinitor. I advised my doctor the reason this happened was due to stress. I know it, feel it. I bend to the wishes of an old lifestyle and others. It is time to accept my life needs to be CALM. I can no longer accept anger, grief or stress near me, AT ALL. So, no, not the start of the New Year I was hoping for but maybe we will get the shit storm out the way earlier. BTW: Thank you all for your always, sweet comments!
In our current culture we seem to be fond of the fusing of words. I don’t love this trend. However, at times it is mildly funny. I just had a cancer-cation, ya know, like stay-cation, or like bennifer, or jlo, or whatever.
A cancer vacation should be on the agenda for all of us going through this harried process. It would be nice for one of the several foundations that supposedly assist those with cancer to somehow provide a lavish vacation for healing. I feel blessed to have the family and some resources that gave us this time away. The past 9ish months have been taxing, and while we would have gotten through without this jaunt to sunshine, it was a most welcome and needed rejuvenation. Thank you.
Rejuvenation of the spirit and body is important in life, with or without cancer. We are a distracted culture who shortens words, and forgets to breathe…maybe that is what gives some of us this disease, who knows. Though I am currently not working and have some time (as much time as one can have with a 15 month old) to breathe and heal, it is difficult to meditate on wellness with looming appointments, schedules, and a house to attempt maintenance on, so I needed a cancer-cation. We all did. My family works hard at sustaining this cancer lifestyle, so we took a break from it, barely discussed it aside from the coughing up a lung part that was difficult to ignore, but even still, we rested. I even drank a quarter of a glass of rose cremont!
Walking the tropical paths in the warm sun reminded me to breathe and to live with this unknown future. It is in living that we thrive, I was reminded. For a better part of the last 9 months it felt as if I was just maintaining my existence. Always positive about my future, I still didn’t truly live my life. This past week while watching my son, my family completely enjoy each other, I truly realized the importance of each singular day.
It’s already my birthday, and I feel blessed to have one.
Though the thoughts of how many more I will have loom within the celebration of me and my day. I had a lovely time with my family. My sweet son’s voice could be heard by many, singing mama, maamaama, mama, beaming with hugs and love. Watching him simply be, is the perfect gift. And then the mind wanders of how long I get to watch him grow and be? I remind myself that I will have a long life with him, experience all of his adventures, and share smiles.
I briefly think, can I not just have a clear May 8th? A thought free of cancer and my longevity? It was a beautiful day, I have so much love around me and I want to enjoy it without furrowed brow and worry. So, I ordered bonbons by the pool in the hot sunshine of our Hawaiin vacation, knowing that amongst all of this cancer crap, life is still beautiful.
I must remember gratitude. I must remember my smiles and breathe my furrows away.
Another sad and too soon loss. This one hit me hard, such sad news during a week of pins and needles awaiting the results of my latest scans. I grew up listening to the Beastie Boys, their music defined a great part of my youth; I feel so connected to his journey with cancer and his work. Farewell MCA, Adam…it was an honor to have met you back in the day.
Live your life, sing your song, dance your dance, and love with truth for life is never as long as we wish.
It is time for me to drink in the juices and see how the navy beans have turned out.
Getting my scans today and having faith that all will turn out to be positive news. As I drink another strange cocktail, I realize that I have become accustomed to these cancer days, or routines. I know what to expect of the flavor of the day, which is a bit comforting (while also discomforting) when facing the unexpected, when facing decisions that are beyond our control. For me, it is important to carry some baggage to chemo jail, to these days of scans. Literally, my chemo bag…though I’m sure the other kind of baggage is pretty present too. There is a lot to sift through and I like to have it all handy. I like to be able to write, to drink water, sift through the fuzzy brain and search for thoughts on love, life, and the best way to raise my son. I’ve expelled worry as much as possible, and attempt to leave doubt under the rug somewhere far away. My chemo bag must be filled with safe comforts, I try to rationalize the negative baggage, and if I can’t, simply save it for another day or for the person that is apart of the thoughts. Usually while carrying heavy bags, they are filled with expectations of another, so I’ve learned to give it back to them. I can’t have shoes that don’t fit in my bag right now, so there is a quilt (made for me by a friend’s mother’s prayer group), a journal, licorice, and love.
I am not sure if it was the full moon, the leftover Tykerb horror in my body, or just a plain and simple bad day that evoked my anger at cancer. I couldn’t sleep, could not get comfortable at all, and when I finally did get to a resting space, I realized that I forgot to take one of my million meds, that just pissed me right off. So I get out of bed with a huff, husband snoozing through this, take the damn med, try and settle down and just got madder and angrier and irritated and all sorts of cranky. I haven’t really gotten this way yet, or expressed the burning anger that we all feel in this situation. Mother f’in cancer.
Settling down seemed impossible. I didn’t know another way to release my frustration, so I accessed my Sicilian side, walked to the cupboard, grabbed a plate, opened the door to outside and slammed the thing on the cement in the pouring rain. It felt so good, after a good cry with the now awoken hubby, I fell into slumber.
After telling this to a girlfriend, she told me about her close friend who used to buy clay pots and throw them off of her deck in order to cope with the loss of her son. It has been a little while since tragedy struck her, but she still does this from time to time. I get it, completely. My husband told me that I did not need to break plates, I could talk to him and wake him up…
But sometimes you just need to break plates.
(next time I’ll try not to grab a cool vintage one though)