Unravel Cancer: Experiences with family battling cancer

06 April 2011

08:54 Mountains reveal desperation, grief

Mountaineering

The last week has been a whirlwind. I've learned a lot about what it takes to climb a mountain. My physical limitations have hit me smack in the face. My pal & I tried to summit Mt. Tallac last Thursday & failed because we both got so wiped out. Then I hiked out to Little Round Top at Carson Pass, but, didn't go all the way because of weather & stamina.

Both situations humbled me deeply, and I began to question whether I could climb Denali in 2011. I now accept that I can't.

But, during that Carson Pass trip, I came to a place of great acceptance & enjoyed & delighted the situation & the scenery, even though a big snowstorm blew in.

So, I'm trying to reconcile in my own mind & heart whether I can climb mountains. I'm trying to not beat myself up for moving Denali to 2012. This entire last month of training has taught me that I'm incredibly hard on myself. I knew this already to some degree, but this is a new version revealed.

What do I do now?

Grief

Last night some folks from my yoga class went out for a drink & bite to eat. One really great gal ended up talking with me at length, as she lost her mother last summer & was still coming out of it. She mentioned to me that my life is my own to live, and that nothing I do will bring my brother back.

I stink at hiking and mountaineering. My ankles & feet are bad. My brother's atheletic ability was beyond human it seemed. Just look at this photo of Mickey & his buddy Nick at the top of a Peruvian peak:

Mickey, on the right, looks like he just stepped out of a spa. He's happy, smiling, raising his axe high, his cheeks are flushed with a great color, etc, etc. His pal Nick, on the left, is barely raising his axe, still has his pack on because he probably only just got up to the summit where Mickey was waiting, and looks a little more peckish & not great coloring. (Saying this with love, Nick!)

The point is, Mickey was a flipping mountain goat. High altitudes & long hikes made his body feel good. He was excellent at this kind of activity. My body doesn't like this activity.

But, will I let him, and all his buddies at the services, down, if I don't climb the peaks on the list?

More grief

The whole situation with what it'll take to climb Denali, the courses, the fitness commitment, the training, the practice hikes, etc. burns my gut. I've actually been quite pissed off these last few days. I'm angry because this isn't happening as smoothly as I had hoped. Glacier classes for Rainier are full up, causing schedule crunches, & are way expensive. Other Shasta glacier classes are interfering with the WFR I want to take.

The whole endeavor has just become a giant hassle. Trying to fit in all this training AND prep for "my" trip (the interviews) has been super insanity inducing.

But, something is compelling me to do this. Something tells me I _have_ to. If I don't complete the climbing list, then I'll be letting my brother down, I'll be a chicken, and the whole community of people I talked to at the services will think I'm lame - right?

Internal stuff

What might be also happening here is that I'm changing. My ability to handle the snowstorm on Carson Pass even surprised me. I'm going with the "flow" more, as previously noted, and great things are happening. Is my desire to not climb these peaks a way to stop myself from the changes that will come as a result?

What I said to the yoga class friend last night was that two things will happen if I go through with these climbs:
1) My mind will completely change; my outlook on life & attitude will be transformed
2) I'll face the fear of my own death.

These are not bad things. I sense my anger is a resistance to these 2 things. It could be that creeping adder called Fear, too, that's trying to put the breaks on. But, on the same token, all this training, these classes, are a lot. And, more to the point, I'm not living my life the way I want. I'm totally stressed about "fitting in" all this stuff before I launch on the trip, and "getting done" these climbs/classes/etc. It doesn't feel fun. This is not what I want my trip to look like or feel like.

So, I'm at a crossroads, and there's a tremendous amount of guilt welling up. I just don't know what to do. But, my ankles have totally rebelled from all this training. I mildly sprained my left ankle on the very first training run 3 weeks ago, and have been in denial of it. Then my right inner arch sprain was re-ativated after my training walk on the stairs on Monday. My body is saying "no", and I'm pissed because my mind & heart are saying "yes" to all this.

I simply don't know what to do. More will be revealed, I guess. But, one thing is I don't want to force myself into a Rainier course on April 23rd. It's too soon, I don't have any of the gear, and I have to be out of my apartment at the end of the month. This leaves me only between today & leaving for CO on Wed to vacate. It's too much.

I'm trying to learn how to care for myself through all this. I'm not very good at that either. How is all this gonna work? Right now it just feels overwhelming & scary.

No solutions in today's post, folks. Sure wish there was...

Labels: anger, cancer, Denali, fear, mountaineering

Breathe.

00:51 Change for Life

Buddhists say change is the only constant in this world. They aren't kidding.

The Last Month
Almost two weeks ago, I lost my job. It wasn't exactly expected. However, looking back it really was the best thing that could have happened. For the moment, I'm financially ok, and now I have the time & space to be with myself, and be with my family.

That doesn't mean I'm not scared or worried about the future. I feel like I've just been cut loose from the doc, lost my moorings, and have no anchor to set down someplace else. In other words: floating.

But, the Universe works in mysterious ways. I was miserable at that job for the last year. Almost exactly a year ago to the day of the lay off, I was considering quitting. My desperation was so high, I prayed like a mad fool. I asked the Cosmos: How do you live a peaceful life? Why am I not living a peaceful life? How can I accomplish this?

Within days, I had my answer: go do the things you love. I asked myself: “Self, what do you love most?”. My reply: “Writing, backcountry skiing, rock climbing, traveling.” Within days of this conversation, (Please dear readers don't think I'm nutso crazy. All inspired artists have these conversations in their head. Picasso would concur.) the idea for my current project leapt into my brain, and my heart, like a bullet. The concept took my breath away, literally. Butterflies were in my stomach.

Amazingly, just like 1 year ago, I had a moment of desperation at work 2 weeks ago where I was on my knees crying & praying like a worshipper at the Wailing Wall. The very next day a flukey circumstance at my job lead to being let go several days later. Clearly there is a greater purpose for me. These things don't just happen randomly for no reason. Destiny is real, and it has conked me on the head twice in 12 months. I'm a slow learner...

Sadly, the removal of my stressful office job has not lead to a peaceful life. I was really hoping it would. Instead, the “high alert mode” of every change in temperature around my brother & mother has worn me down to the ground. With no high-adrenaline corporate overlord peering over my shoulder, pressing his boney finger into the back of my neck, inching my nose closer to the grindstone, I can finally feel just how worn out I really am. But, it's a good thing: now that I know this, and have time & space, I can work towards self-care & healing.

Today
What I've learned so far: it's really hard for me to relax. Despite my best efforts at personal growth over the last 15 years, I'm still a pretty high-strung, Type-A person. Now's my chance to try on a new pair of shoes, in the stress department. Something fashionable, but comfortable enough to go long distances. No high heels.

So, getting let go was truly a blessing. In a matter of weeks, I'll be headed to Denver to assist my brother with a series of transitions. Things have gone quite haywire with his spouse, and now my oldest brother & I are blessed with the chance to pick up the slack. We will stick together, us 3 siblings, no matter what. It is an honor to serve my brother & my family in this way. No matter how gut-wrenching and painful it also is, it is an honor. It can be both at the same time. This is the joyous & mysterious wonder of Life.

The Future (for the moment)
In the meantime, I'm plowing ahead full-steam on this adventure-travel storytelling project extravaganza. The web design team I hired is top-notch, but also top-heart. Truly I'm blessed to know these people. They've taken the concept & boiled it into a kernel that is cool, hip, but also heart-felt. I can't wait to see the initial web pages!

A quick abstract to whet your appetite: the project will focus on transforming personal tragedies into hope & courage for others. Extraordinary stories from everyday people will be collected, and my travel journey along the way will be documented. There will be lots of alpine & rock climbing. Heck yes.

Also, I'm learning how to have no schedule, and arrive to places on time. I'm learning to set a more relaxed schedule for myself. I'm learning to feel all my feelings, now that I don't have to shove them in my pocket every time I walk into the office. I'm slowly accepting this weird but cool feeling that I never have to deal with all the people I worked with ever again. Ever. It's a strange feeling.

As promised to some, here is the other piece on grief I wrote for my writing class last fall. It was very popular, and my teacher's favorite out of all I wrote:

This Lonesome Wind
(after Terrance Hayes' “Wind In A Box”)

This blood. This loss. This lonesome wind. This canyon.
This rain. This wind blowing the rain. This mud.
This rain pelts my face. This rain pelts his body.
This rain pelts the cloudy glass of the window.
When will the rain end? When will we stand, stand
Together under the blue sky? This canyon.
This wall of mud. This flow. This destructive
Grace. At my feet, at my knees, my hips, my
Shoulders, your shoulders, your eyes, and-- over.
Until this moment, I didn't know you.
This box. This body in a box. This blood
In the body. This wind in a box.
This rain. This mud. This canyon fills in.
This box floats to the sky. Now I know you.

Labels: cancer, creative writing, family cancer, grief, job loss, loss, poetry, storytelling

Breathe.

00:05 Writings on Cancer: The Visit

Author's note: The following is a work of short fiction I wrote in a creative writing class I took at my local community college. It was inspired by my trip to visit my brother in October. I've since seen him over the New Year holiday, and he is much worse. Hope you enjoy the story.

The Visit

His face was bloated. Red burn scars swept over his bare skull. Stubble remained where once long blond strands fell to his shoulders. He was Sampson, then: lean, tall, with the rugged face athletes and laborers have from spending long days outdoors.

Twenty-five minutes were spent trying to get the pickup as close to the kids' football field as possible. Two large men hooked my brother's arms, carrying him to the folding chair. The sky was wide, blue, and cloudless. Parched hills pock-marked with brittle shrubs hung nearby, emotionless. They had no opinion about the goings-on atop their sides.

My brother collapsed into his seat with a smile on his face. Boys in silver and gray clumped around a man with a silver & gray baseball cap. My brother's son was there. Eventually, the sun announced itself on our skin. My brother's dry scalp yawned with joy when I rubbed in the shea-butter cream. Then came the sunblock.

The parents and friends along the sidelines shouted and cheered, my brother's face glowed. The boys scored. My brother's smile puffed his cheeks out, like a squirrel. His arms flapped awkwardly as he attempted to clap. Parents from the team strolled by often to see how he was doing. Their questions and chit-chat attempted to be supportive, but couldn't hide the awkward pity & fear of their own demise that his presence represented.

I was there the day it happened, later that week. I saw my brother cry when the wheelchair was pulled out of the truck. I heard the sigh weighted with sorrow, anger, and despair slip through his thin lips. He brushed away the tears when the boys voices echoed from the upstairs porch. The friend said there were black-handled levers to lock the wheels on each side.

“I can't believe it's come to this”, my brother said.

His sons tumbled down the deck stairs to where we were standing, their rounded faces arranged into slackened jaws. They ran behind the chair and began to push. Their stubby legs strained against the driveway. They fussed over who could hold which handle. My brother became dad again, delivering orders and encouragement. The chair got wheeled to the edge of the driveway, overlooking the steep hill. Half-gold, half-green aspen leaves wavered in the afternoon breeze, cueing Autumn's approach.

The kids twirled my brother around through sun and shade patches scattered on the driveway. With his instructions, they quickly collaborated on how to pop wheelies. We all seemed to release unknown clenched breaths at the same time. As quickly as they ran down, the boys shot upstairs to get some item he had forgotten. Or maybe it was his gentle way to get them out of the scene, so he could take his own turn at moving the oversized wheels of the chair. He looked up at all of us. His cheeks puffed out in a smile. It was going to be alright. For today at least, it was going to be alright.

Labels: cancer, creative writing, family cancer, fiction, grief, siblings

Breathe.

08:16 Stanley Cup for Cancer: Everything Update

Holy moly! Long time..er, no blog? Uh, chat? Whatever.

From before Halloween til now it's been non-stop Life, primarily my creative writing class (now completed), and a nutso crazy workload.

The Deep Stuff
Currently, my brother is now a complete quadripeligic. His left arm is completely a dead weight, and he only has 5% mobility in his right arm. After 7 weeks at acute rehab, he's back home in an electric wheelchair. He's unable to transfer himself to & from the chair.

Needless to say, it's hit him pretty hard. He's unsure about how much longer he can hold on, and we're desperately trying to get my mom out to see him.

My mom's cancer came back; we found out Monday. She also has Parkinson's disease, officially. She's also in a rehab facility, and is scheduled to be moved to a sub-acute facility on the 28th. It's unclear whether she'll ever be able to move back with my oldest brother. He has steep stairs and stuff, and she may not have the strength or mobility to handle that environment.

The horrible part (like the other stuff isn't bad enough), is if my mom leaves any of these facilities to visit my brother in Denver, she will lose her insurance. The insurance companies say, if she's healthy enough to travel, she doesn't need rehab.

This is such a horrible thing to face. Insurance companies clearly don't plan for a tsunami of illness like the kind that hit my family. As far as we can tell, there is no exception for when a person has a child who is dying, and they want to see them.

Insurance companies are about making money, not saving people's lives. They're about the bottom line, not the pulse line. Life does not fit easily into spreadsheets and revenue numbers. The entire US health care system does not accommodate "exception". The system then traps doctors and nurses, like a fly in a spiderweb, who likely have good intentions to help people. But, they too, have to play the game that is the US healthcare insurance market. I don't say "system" because it truly is a "market" when money is to be made, exactly what the insurance companies are doing, goaded by Wall Street. It just plain sucks.

Meanwhile, I could whine about a lot of things, like my manipulative boss at work who is not very compassionate. But instead, I'll just write about my experiences.

The Dreamtime Stuff
Been having a lot of very intense dreams over the last 2 months. Mostly they are about falling. Several times I've dreamt about falling down stairs, and then woken up from the fright as my face approaches the ground. One time I had a very realistic dream about flying. I was attacked by armed forces for my superpower. I think I had escaped from a secret lab or something. Several times I "fell" in that dream: once out of a window, once out of a plane, & a few other times. That dream was neat because as I came closer to the ground, I remembered I could fly & stopped myself before being flattened on the ground, because I was no longer scared.

My massage lady suggested it was a good thing, that it meant I was letting go. Fox knows there's a ton to let go of at the moment. A pal suggested the other day that I was mellowing out. A couple friends at Thanksgiving said the same thing, pals I hadn't seen in about a year.

When people you love are dying, breaking your cell phone, getting cut off, slow-ass grannie drivers, crap bosses, and lousy roommates really don't matter as much. It offers a perspective. I just hope I can carry this relaxed perspective with me the rest of my life. My life & my whole being is better for it.

The New Stuff
Been making great progress on a new project I'm launching, hopefully next year. It will also be cancer related, but more epic. I've hired a web design/brand team, and will hopefully polish off my business plan over the holiday.

The more I write, the more I spend time with writers, the better I feel. The final class recital for my creative writing class was really great. People liked what I wrote! That was quite a thrill. My heart is telling me exactly where to go, and there's no stopping me now!

The Learning Stuff
Sometimes still the self-pity & wallowing come. When I feel like crying, I just try to let myself cry. But, I try not to wallow. A good friend in a far-away land told me about his dad. He said that when his dad would feel like a wreck about something, he would drive someplace quiet & pull over. Then he'd let himself cry for exactly 15 minutes. After that, he'd turn on the car, put it in gear, and keep going.

This was such an inspiring story. I have to be careful not to keep things all bottled up. But, if it's 15 minutes or 1 hour, at least I know there will be a limit on the crying. From there, I pray for strength to put one foot in front of the other. I pray for what the next step should be in that moment. I pray for the ability to let all this go.

The Body Stuff
Meanwhile, my body is not at its best, despite my head being better. I still have tremendous stress reactions. My ribcage is not responding well. There is tremendous overgripping in the left shoulder area. My pelvis is still often out of alignment. These are all way old patterns from when I was a kid. They were developed in times of great stress in my family environment, which was pretty much all the time.

I have no idea what to do about this. Other than regular acupuncture, massage, & yoga, it's a total mystery to me. Clearly the deeper aspects of grief, anxiety, fear, etc. are entering into my body unconsciously. So, how does a person become conscious of it? I can only think of just breathing, and paying attention to the aches & pains that arise. Anybody else have ideas on how to protect one's body from stress & heavy emotions?

Anyway, more posts to follow with some of my writings on grief & being present. Thanks for reading - enjoy your holidays, tell your spouse/partner you love them, buy a bunch of flowers for your table while you're at the grocery store, give a doggie a scratch behind his ear, and enjoy being alive. Happy Holidays to you & yours.

Labels: acupuncture, body, cancer, Christmas, family cancer, holidays, massage, new year, yoga

Breathe.

23:08 Stanley Cup for Cancer: Family Update

It's been quite a week. My brother went in for a shunt to drain his excess spinal fluid into his stomach. Word from his wife is all went well, he's awake out of pain (mostly), and itching to go home. The little one ran the last TD in for his team this afternoon, even though they didn't make the playoffs. The oldest won his game & is headed for playoff-ville. Life continues on & all are doing well given the situation.

Two weeks ago marked my 10-day visit to Denver and the whole crew. We had a really great time. It was a shock to see my brother's mobility so compromised. There were several occasions where he fell & I had to pick him up. Thankfully, I was strong enough.

But, all in all spirits were high. Mickey cracked jokes & complained about politics in his usual manner. He really enjoyed any & all time spent with the kids. He pushed himself quite hard to get up & help take them to school. He can't drive anymore, so he would be a passenger while I drove.

The end of the week was topped off by a hockey game. It was the season opener for the Colorado Avalanche, and the beat the Chicago Blackhawks. Mickey & I were in Blackhawks regalia, and the kids cheers for the Aves. They also had the 1998 Avalanche Stanley Cup winning team come on the ice for a reunion ceremony. It was really cool! The lady next to us said it was the first time they had a sellout crowd in a long time though. That's a shame.

What made it so much fun was we played dress up:

The kids especially enjoyed this. The oldest is in 6th grade and already trying to be "cool". So, it was a chance for them both to be just kids & be silly.

It seemed the struggle was mostly on me this week. My emotions fell into a low spot once I began to fight off a cold on the weekend. I didn't take good care of myself & got worse & worse. Several acupuncture visits and herbs seemed to not make a dent. Finally, my back went out Friday night, as I was trying to put air in one of my car tires.

Needless to say, I was pissed. It's one thing if I was climbing, or doing yoga or whatever - but filling air in my tires?! And, all week was spent in bed because I was so sick. I wasn't kicking up my heels around town every night.

It's really a mirror for my frustration. Since leaving Denver, it just seems like my brother has gotten worse & worse. My fear is he's on the "slippery slope" to the end. Maybe now with this shunt procedure, he'll feel better, gain some mobility and energy back. Somehow, though, things feel ominous to me. I just can't seem to shake it.

This feeling lead to survival guilt, in full force. The survivor guilt hasn't come around in a long time, but it sure did this week. I began to feel somehow responsible, or was getting hard on myself for not fixing the situation.

But, what I can focus on is I showed up the best way I could that week. Despite a rental car setback (Note to self: you can't rent a car on an expired license), I truly did the best I could, and the whole family appreciated it. I helped Mickey with many chores & errands that have now become very time consuming because he can't use his arms & legs well anymore. I helped take the kids to school, fill prescriptions, wash windows, do laundry, and offer the ear of comfort to my sister-in-law. Mickey & I had some great talks tooling around in his BMW convertible sports car, nicknamed "Mood Elevator". Truly you can't drive the thing without a big grin on your face.

The Lesson:
Take care of myself. This is the umpteenth time my love, care, and wish for another reality has cascaded me down the canyon of despair, illness, and crankiness. I'm no fun to be around, and I'm unable to live my live, get my job done, get chores done, and do things for me, like write. It's no good all around.

My new commitment is to radical self-care, not evidenced by the fact it's 11:45PM and I'm still writing this post. But, I can start over at any time, even in 5 minutes.

A new pledge to my sleep, food, hygiene, work, and career transition has dawned. Starting...tomorrow. No sincerely, it's started right now, even before I wrote this. Already today I've done many things to care for me, like not going to a friend's party because I was too wiped out, etc. Every new step in this direction, no matter how big or small, is a step towards healing & growth. People keep telling me I can't be of service to anyone in my family if I"m a blubbering cranky mess.

The survival guilt is very strong though. It tells me I shouldn't be happy or live my life, because of what's going on with my brother. Somehow, I must sacrifice happiness and "a life" because he is losing his. No, it doesn't make any sense, but that's what's happening. Hopefully by writing about it sharing, reaching out to friends & family, talking about it, getting body work & sleep & eating well, I can overcome this guilt & continue to live my life in the best possible way. My brother would want it that way.

I leave you with beautiful fun images of nighttime at Black Rock City, from Burning Man.

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life — It goes on.

ROBERT FROST, as quoted in William Nichols' A New Treasury of Words to Live By

Labels: brain tumor, Burning Man, cancer, cancer survivor, family cancer, love, survivor guilt

Breathe.

23:07 Stanley Cup 4 Cancer Update: How do you spell relief? D-U-S-T

How do I begin to describe Burning Man?
Well, DUST was the biggest factor. Dust factored into everything. I had never experienced so much dust in my entire life. My roommate warned me about the dust storms, but my imagination couldn't conceive of what they were really like. It was like "the nothing" in "The Neverending Story".

Forced to adapt to the dust quickly or perish in mouth-foaming madness, I adapted. It wasn't until day 4 that the baby wipes just didn't cut it, and I sought out a bath at the Human Car Wash. More on that later.

Numerous times I rode my bike through the windy dusty plains & pondered as my legs pushed against the wind, foot on pedal, and the dust gusts lifted my skirt painting my white undies grey, that if the apocalypse came, I'd be ready for it. "Bring it on!", I yelled.

The Flammable Stanley Cup
It was easy to forget about the dust when I had a flammable Stanley Cup in tow. It resided in a kiddie trailer on my bike.

On the one hand I was bedazzled by the amazing spectacle that was all around me. Art cars, glowing people, naked people, stilt walkers, jugglers (when there was no wind), and lots & lots of fire. There were vehicles that spurted fire, a tricked out set of organ pipes tied to a keyboard that spurted fire, a fire-spurting tuba in a marching band, and the list goes on. Fire twirlers at the club camps were especially talented.

On the other hand, sometimes FCS was a burden. It was heavy to pull around. Often my bike got stuck in the sand piles scattered on the desert floor. It was no fun. But there were several moments when people picked up the cup, hoisted it over their head, & kissed it, just like the real Stanley Cup! Unfortunately, none of those moments were on film, but trust me they really happened. All around town people called after me shouting "Lord Stanley's Cup!" or "Is that the Stanley Cup?", or "Stanley!", or whatever. Just getting that recognition alone was worth all the effort. For the first time in a long while, I felt acknowledged, seen, heard, and allowed to be in the place I had created for myself in the community. It was an incredible feeling, beyond words. To see the experience, view the video:

Burning stuff
Burning things is such a good idea. I've become a real fan. Of course there are inappropriate times & places to burn things. My brother who's battling cancer actually poured gasoline on his jeans & lit them on fire at 12 years of age. He was trying to be like the movie stuntmen. Very fortunately, he had the foresight to turn on the garden hose & have his buddy hold it nearby ready to douse him. I'm not sure how long he let it burn. What a character. Don't try that at home, kids.

However, when in a large flat area with nothing around for miles, like the desert, it's a great time & place to burn things. I'll get more to the burning of The Man in a later post, but for now I'll stick to the Temple of Flux. The temple was built in a very organic "bird's nest" kind of shape, with walls fit for scribbling on. Many people did, including me. It's also the place where the Flammable Stanley Cup met its timely end.

It took a long time to burn, but was a beautiful sight. The smoke tornados absolutely blew my mind. It sounds like I'm high on drugs in the video, but I can assure you I was completely sober. Truly it was that much of an awe-inspiring moment. The flames & smoke were powerfully transforming. It offered a cathartic release for me and many others.

Fire gives us an opportunity to start anew, wipe the proverbial slate clean and start fresh. That was definitely my experience of burning the FSC. I felt the burden of survivor guilt was lifted, the burden of worry, fear, & anxiety at seeing my loved ones struggle to stave off death, were cleansed when that temple burned. All the suffering, trauma, and agony of the people whose names were on the FSC were burned away too. It was liberating.

And back to dust
What really struck me though was the dust. It was the dusty wind that spun the smoke tornados into our section of the crowd. And more so than the fire, it was the dust that forced me to let go. The inevitability of it creeping into every crevice, nook, & cranny possible caused me to truly release expectations.

Letting go was the central theme to my entire experience. By giving myself & others a vehicle of expressing Life, we could let go of the inevitable Death that will come. The dust was a reminder that we are made of it, and will return to it one day. Having this reminder literally hit you in the face every day allowed me to live more fully, and be free-er at Burning Man. I didn't have the same heavy emotions. There was a tremendous release. I could truly be myself there, be the little girl who always wanted to play but got shut down by one family member or another.

It was almost challenging to accept the love, just like it was to accept the dust. After a day or two, I became the loving person I want to be. During a yoga class, my heart cracked open, and lying in shavasana I cried, as I felt held by some cosmic force with the gentleness of a momma cradling her baby. I didn't take anything personally, and I offered & received goodness, kindness, food, and help. The openness with which people not only offered things, but _themselves_ was remarkable. Add in all the crazy cool art, and it became an overwhelmingly delightful cuddle puddle.

Post mortem
I hesitated to use the phrase "post mortem" given that this is a blog about cancer, but what the heck - it's the right title for this last section.

Since the day I got back, my work has been off-the-hook crazy. I cruised on the acceptance of what I can't control gained from Burning Man for several weeks of it. Finally, last week, I had a meltdown. By the end of the week, I was so frustrated with my ass getting kicked so repeatedly by work that I lost my poop when someone did something that resulted in me not getting what I wanted. Wow, was I overgriped.

Four weeks out, and I'm back to my old ways. Harrumph. So why go through all this?

Well, my heart did shut down last week. That much is true, but I'm simply not the same person I was four weeks ago. No matter what, I keep showing up. Even in my exhaustion, my sleepiness, my frustration, my "I'm over it" mind, I keep showing up & doing the best I can.

My body has taken a drastic leap forward in healing as a result of Burning Man. I'll talk about that in a later post.

And, I'm not holding on to my grief, my anger, my resentments like before. Once I get angry or frustrated at the thing I can't control, it's just gone. Poof. All in all, I"m lighter, less heady, and more in the moment. I'm noticing my thought patterns more easily. I'm letting go of the past with much more grace & ease. Just today, after ruminating about a challenging convo at work, I was able to let it go & enjoy being in the pool while I swam. I focused on my breathing & on the cool sound of the water splashing around my ears with each stroke.

Even as I humbly admitted my over-griped-ness today, I didn't wallow in self-pity, but rather gave thanks for the opportunity to learn about myself.

I could go on & on but, the point is I just don't view the world through the same eyes. So, none of my experiences will be the same going forward. The dust corroded many old thought patterns that were no longer useful. The patterns are fighting their way back into my consciousness, but I see them! They are not welcome! Instead, I make more room on the kitchen shelf of my mind to store them for use at a later time.

I wrote this when it was late, and I was super pooped. Not sure if it makes any sense. So, I'll let the video speak for me, and offer a more coherent impression of Burning Man, post-temple burn.

Love to you all!
xo

Labels: Black Rock City, Burning Man, cancer, cancer survivor, desert, dust, duststorm, Stanley Cup

Breathe.

23:13 Cancer: the meshing of art & athletics

Thank you for your patience, dear readers, as I drop back into Earth's orbit after a wild & woolly ride to Black Rock City, NV for Burning Man 2010. I know everyone is feinting with anticipation at the photos & my thoughts. Rest assured, those thoughts are beginning to settle & will be downloaded for you in this here electronic forum very soon.

Meanwhile, the one that's fully baked was a blog post I didn't have time to write before I left. It'll be short & sweet, and worth it. Please read on...

Can art and athletics meet on common ground?
Yes, by golly! And cancer is what brought them there. Doing the Flammable Stanley Cup for Cancer Survivors project challenged me in ways I didn't expect. The setbacks, the length of time it took to get everything done. I didn't even have time to write the names on the Cup til I got to the playa!

Anyway, it was an exercise in patience, in accepting reality, versus my vision of it. And, it got me really humble in a hurry. If it wasn't for my buddy Mark coming to my construction rescue, the project wouldn't have happened, over 100 people would have been disappointed in me, and my goose would've been cooked. Here's Captain Table Saw in action:

But the point is, all the emotions - the setbacks, the frustration, the fears, the reminding myself to stay calm to get through it all - were the same ones when I'm on a rock wall. I'm no psychologist, but something tells me I pushed myself into this nutty adventure because I wasn't getting my fix climbing, due to so many injuries. Somehow, a catharsis was needed, and climbing wasn't an option anymore.

And catharsis I got. But more on that in my upcoming posts.

I'll leave you with this little ditty to brighten your day. When the going gets tough, the tough get an air banjo:

PS: I highly recommend developing an art project if you are a) in cancer treatment, b) are a helpless shlameel family member watching someone else die from cancer. Many people asked me why I don't fundraise or contribute some kind of research towards fighting cancer. I'm just not a scientist, I'm an artist. Engaging in the ritual of art heals many things, both for myself & others. Give it a try - you'll feel much better. Oh, and once you're done, burn it! Then you'll really feel great. Ta...

Labels: banjo, Burning Man, cancer, cancer survivor, catharsis, family cancer, rock climbing, Stanley Cup

Breathe.

22:35 Stanley Cup for Cancer Project & family update

Wowza. It's been such a jam-packed couple of weeks, I haven't had any time for a blogpost.

The Flammable Stanley Cup for Cancer project is going really well! So far, there are 78 names for the list. These folks are all cancer survivors who's names will be written on the paper mache cup. Then it'll be burned at the Burning Man festival.

Much of that success had to do w/ Greg Wyshynski & Crew at the hockey blog Puck Daddy. They featured my story in one of their blog posts. In a matter of days, my YouTube videos had hit over a few hundred views.

In addition to only having 4 hours sleep for most of the week while pounding away at cup building & video editing, I was hella nervous. Greg was really great, knew how to interview well, and steered me in the right direction.

Sadly, within days of the post hitting the wire, my brother took a turn for the worse. A week later, he was diagnosed with leptomeningial enhancement in his thorassic spinal cord. After a second spinal tap, the determined course of treatment is to radiate his entire brain, and his thorassic spine, for the next 4-5 weeks. On average, people with this condition plus treatment live another 6 months. It could be longer though, but still...

So, I carry on. I have a project to do. Some days are better than others. The last 2 days I was in a fog, could barely focus on work, and had no energy. Partly it was from the massive tension release I had after a massage on Tuesday. Seems my body was trying to clench my troubles away.

It's so hard to accept what's happening. It's so hard to hold the myriad of emotions. Sometimes I'm happy, sad, grateful, & lonely all at the same moment. It's hard to describe.

I keep coming back to what a program friend said to me several weeks ago. "You're in transition, everything's going to be ok. You'll be alright." Something about her voice, that day, the topic, everything, just brought a huge sense of peace to me. When my emotions flare up, my fears, my deep lonliness, my desire for a shoulder to cry on & a cuddle, I remember that conversation.

Having my story told with such grace by the Puck Daddy crew, and experiencing the incredible response really opened my heart to love (especially self-love) & vulnerability, which is something I had struggled with my whole life. It was like I had been seen, finally. Much of my fear about manifesting in my life, taking up space & owning my right to be here, has been removed. Ideas about my next project, and the next after that sprouted in my head during the week of the diagnosis. I'm no longer afraid to put myself out there, even if I fail. This was one of the promises of the 12-step group I attend.

As a result, I asked two other bloggers to post about my story, and they graciously did. What's cool is they're also lady hockey fans!

Psycho Lady Hockey
Hockey For The Ladies

These gals are both sweet, awesome, fun, smart, & generous. I sincerely thank them for their support of the project.

Plus, Ms. Sarah Spain from ESPN Chicago has been helping me out with tweets & Facebook. She's a rockstar, and has more cojones than most of her male colleagues. Keep rockin' your badass self, Sarah!

Meanwhile, I mix clay:

Before that, I paper mache'd:

In between, I watched this Blackhawks video drooling over the shots of Adam Burish's hunky nakedness. Whoa. There is a god:

Too bad Burr will be at the Dallas Stars this year, with all their ownership troubles, etc. Hopefully he can get a better starting position.

As the grief ebbs & flows, the sadness tide nipping at my heels is put at bay, once again, by hockey. Never did I think a sport or sporting event such as the Chicago Blackhawks becoming Stanley Cup Champions would foster so much mental & emotional relief, but it has.

Go Blackhawks.

Labels: Burning Man, cancer, Chicago Blackhawks, paper mache

Breathe.

23:43 Last Weekend

I spent last weekend in Denver, visiting my brother & his family. Coincidentally, my cousin was graduating from DU, and I was able to celebrate with him & my aunt's family also.

The weekend went from start to finish without a hitch, til the very end. The entire time was a miracle, absolutely a gift from a Supreme Being.

Highlights included:

--spending the afternoon at the Botanic Gardens with my dad, laughing, smiling, contemplating, and simply enjoying each other's company

--my brother asking his kids to skedaddle outside so he could have time to talk with me & Dad

--my sister-in-law looking me in the eye, then hugging me

--playing in the community pool with my nephews & their cousins

--resting on a lounge chair for an entire hour! Although I couldn't nap because of the noise, it takes a lot for me to just do "nothing"

--seeing the sun poke through the clouds at sunset just long enough for me to shoot a photo of flowers & a cool statue at the gardens

--eating scrumptious high-end "chi-chi" dessert at a dessert bar with a good friend, sharing philosophies, laughter, and The Apprentice

But the creme de la creme, piece de resistance, and all those other fancy French phrases, was sitting in my brother's family room, with my oldest brother too (!), watching Game 5 of the Stanley Cup finals. For once in our lives, us siblings all had something to relate to, something allowing us to "get along".

Every time the Blackhawks scored, we all cheered. Every time there was a lousy penalty against our team, we booed. We played with the kids, my nieces & nephews, and watched them fake WWF wrestle in front of the TV. I got to hear my cousin, and my brother say "please" and "thank you" to the kids, through clenched teeth, as they told them to stop standing in front of the TV so we could watch the game.

If you didn't see the game, here's the recap:

The entire weekend was happy, joyous, & free, just like my 12-step program promises. Never in all my days did I think these things would happen. I had so much fear that my sister-in-law would block me out of her life, and prevent me from seeing my nephews, after my brother passed away. Certainly this is still a possibility, but now at least there's a good chance that won't happen.

I got to see all the best sides of my brother, all the sides I like the most. His generosity, his thoughtfulness, his silliness, his concern, his good intentions for others, and his vulnerability. Truly I have to thank my Higher Power, and myself, for all the effort I've put into the 12 steps, to help me accept reality, this situation, my feelings, and still be present, show up, and offer love & compassion as best I can. By helping me to see my self-centeredness, this program has relieved me of the need to make this horribly tragic situation all about me.

I'm so grateful to the Chicago Blackhawks organization for having an awesome team in the finals right now. The evening just simply wouldn't have been the same, without that bonding moment. The players have brought me so much joy (and mental relief), and also our family.

The hiccup at the end was interesting: due to horrible mileage program rules, I was forced to take a connecting flight through Pasco, Washington, population 55,000 on a good day, in Southeast Washington state. Hoo boy. As fate would have it, the first leg was delayed, and I was automatically rebooked to a non-stop flight later on. The gate lady asked me if there was any issue, since I wasn't going through Pasco.

"No, not at all!", was my passionate response. I explained letting go of the Pasco part of the journey, went with not even a wiff of regret; my final destination was SFO.

To my surprise, she was delighted! The flight to Pasco was triple booked, apparently, and she really needed that seat for someone else. I was happy to oblige.

Just in case, she booked me standby on an earlier flight, which would arrive around the same time as my bag. "You see", she explained, "it's too late to re-check your bag onto your flight now. It'll go through Pasco and arrive to SFO a few minutes after you land."

Although it was odd, I took the ticket and ran! Bags & stuff aren't nearly as important as me getting home at a reasonable hour on a non-stop flight, because already I'd have to schlep from SFO to Oakland. (only being allowed to fly to SFO was another mileage program snafu)

Not only did I get on the standby flight, I got an exit row seat! Woohoo! It was like winning the Mega lotto jackpot! I had enough room to cross one leg over the other! In fact, there was _so_ much room, I almost couldn't sleep because there was nothing for my body to brace against.

That's where my luck ran out. Sure enough, my bag never arrived. It still hasn't. I'm kinda bummed because there's about $250 of climbing gear in there, not to mention my phone chargers & stuff. But, my Blackhawks hat & jacket went with me on the plane, so the rest doesn't really matter.

Unsolicited advice: don't EVER book a domestic United flight with miles. Always save up for a long international journey with at least one connection. The restrictions on the domestic mileage flights are horrible; I've never felt more hosed by corporate bureaucracy in my life.

GO BLACKHAWKS!!!

LONG LIVE MY BROTHER!!!!

Labels: cancer, Chicago Blackhawks, family cancer, love, siblings

Breathe.

00:24 Mexico: the easy side

The good part about being with my mom in Mexico, was everybody rushed to our aid. They saw me & my aunt struggling to get Mom in & out of the car, and ran to help us. Mexican culture is all about family, and being respectful to elders.

Along the way, many wonderful people got to know us, because of the way we stuck together & helped Mom along the way. The sing-along salsa dance teacher at the spa, was greatly touched by watching me help mom in & out of her chair, and help serve her food to her, for the mealtimes. This lovely gal had such a sparkling personality!

She came to the spa to do some evening programs: a singalong (she can play the guitar), and salsa dance classes. I went to one of the salsa classes, and had such a blast! It was the first time I felt I could cut loose during the holiday. Sometimes when a person is with their family, it's hard to just "be yourself". My friends back home know me in a different way than my family. My family doesn't always get my sense of humor, or my twisted view on life.

I digress.

The salsa lady really took to my mom, and showered her with love & support. It was truly amazing. I also got to see the subtly of Mexican culture. This gal only entered our space a little at a time. After I attended the salsa class, the next day she had more recourse to talk to us directly. That's when it all started.

The following week, when we were in Guadalajara, she took us to a great restaurant with old bull fighting memorabilia everywhere. We met her daughter, her granddaughter, and had a lovely time. At one point, she began to talk about her own life. She revealed that 8 years prior, she had a stroke, and her 17 year old daughter had to care for her. She was in a wheelchair, and doctors said she wouldn't walk again. It was the most devastating thing to a life-long dancer like her. She had practiced classical dance as a young girl, then moved into Argentine Tango, as a young lady. There was no way this dancer would accept that fate.

It took her more than a year to fully recover. She still has some loss of feeling in her right leg. So, she had to switch rhythms to salsa, in order to accommodate her limitation. Talk about determination! Her story awed all of us at the table. No wonder she was attracted Mom and I .

We had a wonderful bonding that night. A few days later, lovely the Guadalajaran lady, Mom and I went to brunch on our own. The restaurant was in an old part of GDL, behind the Teatro Degollado, called El Rincon del Diablo. It is the building on the right side of the alley. Our friend said the legend was the restaurant we were in was a family home. The couple living there lead a bohemian life, before their time, in the early 1800s. The father apparently "loaned" out his daughter to various nefarious dudes around town, to secure favors. One day, unknowing innocents were invited to one of the infamous parties the couple had in the home. There, they swore they saw the daughter dancing with the devil!

Despite the history, we had a beautiful conversation about strength, recovery, faith, and the power of love to heal. She too, recognized my mom's tendency to beat herself, be too hard on herself. Turning over one's situation to God came up several times in the conversation. My hope was that this chat would help Mom to be more in the moment, and less hyperfocussed on her body & the cancer.

But, later in the week, the lovely lady's daughter reminded me that I have no idea what it's like to go through a physical debilitation like her mom did, or my mom is now experiencing. It's true - I can haughtily think I know what's best for my mom, or what she should or shouldn't do emotionally, but truly I have no clue. Maybe my mom's self-flagellation is what is keeping her going. Maybe her pushing hard on herself is what's causing her not to give up.

Meanwhile, before Guadalajara, we met a lovely driver, who took us around almost all of Lake Chapala. We met him through the generosity of the son of the owner, who was minding the La Nueva Posada while papa was out on business.

The driver took great pleasure in carting us around, and in seeing us all together as a family. Mom sat in the front seat, because of her limited ability to get in & out of a mini-van, and chatted his ear off the whole time. She asked him all about the climate, the housing prices, the quality of life, the relationships between locals and ex-pats, etc. ad infinetum. It was really nice to see her enjoying the company of our driver, and getting out of her head enough to experience a new person.

The driver seemed genuinely happy to chat with Mom. He was superbly helpful getting her in & out of the car, and assisting her to the table for lunch, etc. As soon as Mom was tired, he immediately started heading back to the hotel.

Notable stops included the pier at Jocotepec, corn husk artisans in San Nicholas, a stunning sunset & dusk outside Poncitlan, and excellent food San Luis Soyatlan.

After dropping off Mom for her nap, we continued on to Chapala City, and beyond. The driver was so eager to take us around the entire lake. The last place we stopped was some hieroglyphs on some boulders on the side of the road, near the last town before the road ended, Poncitlan. It's a shame they weren't covered, because they were amazing! Swirls, figures, lines, oblong shapes - all sorts of stuff piled on around each other. Some of the carvings seemed newer than others, making it seem like several generations or incarnations of ancient peoples used the same sacred spot.

The part that hit home was, as we were driving back to the hotel, our driver said, "I don't mind driving you for extra time. Driving you ladies around is like driving my own family." What a complement!

The same driver drove us to Guadalajara, and truly became teary-eyed when Mom got out of the car & was ready to leave. He had told us of his own mother's suffering with a brain tumor, and how she passed s few years prior. It still amazes me how everywhere we go, we meet people touched by cancer.

Later that week, the last night in GDL, I went salsa dancing with our friend's daughter. We had such a blast! We shut the place down, of course. The club was called La Mutualista, and had live salsa bands on Thursday night, the international salsa dance night. Don't ask me why, but clubs I've been to all around the world, even in Asia, always have live salsa on Thursday nights. The clearly don't expect people to work on Fridays...

Anyhow, the place had a healthy mix of young & old, hot dancers and newbies, locals & ex-pats. I hit it off with one guy in particular, and we danced a lot together. We had great chemistry! Another guy was from Cuba with the band. We also hit it off, but as the night wore on, he was more aggressively "dirty dancing". At one point I glanced at him and his new victim..uh, er partner, and she was cringing as he was rubbing his business all over her ass. Having been there, done that, I was thankful to have stuck with the other dude, who was completely gentlemanly. Of course he kept begging me for my number, but I refused. I was leaving the next day & was just there to dance.

Oh! But before La Mutalista, my aunt & her friend and I went to the Instituto Cultural Cabanas museum. As fate would have it, in the central courtyard was a Tequila tasting festival/trade show. Before we could even get to the murals, the two old maids had drunk 4 shots apiece & downed to mini-margaritas. Needless to say, by the time I scored a guide to review the murals with us, they could barely sit still, and understand his thick accent. My aunt' friend was clearly itching to get back to the booze.

While they trotted off to get hammered, I discovered Orozco's galleries with drawings and prep sketches for his murals and large works. It was stunning. He was an amazing talent, not very well known outside Mexico it seems. I had had a few shots myself before our tour, so was trying to sober up in the galleries. I couldn't get through all of them before they closed, so I wandered back to the Tequila maddened courtyard, where the mariachi was in full swing. This was a less traditional mariachi, in that they did cover songs too, like the Beatles Lady Madonna & stuff. It was interesting.

Truly I wanted to just watch a few Mariachi songs & take off, but the gals were loaded and did everything in their power to get me to drink. It wasn't hard, when all the Tequila was local, fresh, and free. The variety of margaritas was stunning. They used some tropical fruits only found in Mexico that blew my taste buds off the map, like guanabana (do, do, do, do do), and nanche. Another good one was made with green tea, and served like a martini with no ice. (chilled though)

Needless to say, I was pretty ripped by the time I got to La Mutualist, despite eating splendid greasy tacos from across the street. My pal told me about an awesome drink they had there, made with sugar & some kind of crazy fruit. I asked for the first one sans-alcohol. It was so refreshing! The second one came later after being super pooped, and I forgot to tell the bartender no booze. Boy did I regret that the next morning. My friends can attest to my facebook posts upon me return: I was hurting.

But, it was all ok.

In summary, had my mom not been so debilitated physically, we never would have met such lovely local people in our travels. Additionally, the entire spa staff was generous with us, and we met several other cool guests during the activities and meals. Also, her neediness really forced me to relax in between activities or helping her. If it wasn't for Mom, I'd have been climbing, hiking, shopping, sight-seeing, etc, til my feet wore off. Her condition was a blessing in disguise in this way, as it forced all of us to have no agenda. In that way, I really _did_ relax.

So every situation has a silver lining, even with cancer.

Labels: cancer, family, fried foods, Mexico, new friends, salsa dancing, tacos

Breathe.

20:54 Mexico: the hard side

It's been several weeks since I returned from Mexico, but began cranking away at work almost instantly. But, that's ok - I'm hatching my escape plan.

The trip was harder than I expected, even though there were a lot of fun moments.

I went with my mom, her sister (my aunt), and my aunt's best friend from high school. We went to Guadalajara, and the areas near there.

My mom's health & mobility were much more compromised than any of us expected. She was quite worn out by the flight on the way there. She hadn't been able to sleep the night before, and was just wrecked for the first few days.

Additionally, she struggled to get on & off the toilet. For the rest of my days, I'll remember the acrid sting of her urine's odor as it hit my nose. I guess it's due to all the drugs she takes now.

It's a humbling experience to help your parent use the facilities. It's awkward, embarrassing, sad, and a whole host of other emotions all mixed in.

My mom also needed assistance with walking, getting in and out of chairs, and in and out of taxis. The first day in TlaquePaque, at a fabulous B&B called Casa De Las Flores, she insisted on walking 3 blocks to the pedestrian mall. After several stops, I had to almost carry her the last half-block, her energy was totally sapped. We took a taxi home.

She told me on Mother's Day that she had lost 4 pounds in Mexico, because she wasn't eating on her normal schedule. Well, that's part of why people go on vacation - to get out of their "normal" schedule! But, for someone on chemo & recovering from brain cancer, keeping a routine was important.

We all tried the best we could. The first week, and especially at the Rio Caliente in La Primavera, my aunt & her friend abandoned me to care for mom all on my own. By the second night, I was begging them for help. I was unable to relax at all, because I had to get her up & down this little hill to the dining hall. Between her treatments and mine, I was literally running back & forth between our room, the treatments rooms, the pool area, and the dining hall. Needlesstosay, I was pissed as hell.

Yes, I admit it: I was angry at having to go through all this. What about my vacation? Don't I deserve to relax, too?

My batteries were completely depleted coming on the trip, and being thrown into a challenging caretaker role in a foreign country where I barely speak the language was not what I had prepared for. I did actually mince words with my mom. By the next day, I felt guilty. She didn't deserve that. It wasn't her fault that she got sick. I apologized, but she didn't seem very accepting of it.

That was the hard part about helping my mom. She is a cranky, self-centered, whiny person. A pal told me that some people make good patients, and others don't. There's nothing "patient" about my mother. Sadly, she pushes herself too hard, and beats herself up for having this illness, instead of trying to love herself and heal gradually, over time. It's one thing to motivate oneself to not give up, but it's something altogether different if you're not allowing your body to heal.

Finally, as the week wore on, I got some space. It was just the physical space I needed, it was space away from my mom's kvetching about every little pain in her body, or every little discomfort in the bed or whatever. Additionally, I think my aunt realized how much I was dealing with, and she stepped up a little by the 4th day at the spa. This was a huge relief.

We had a nice time in the next town we visited, Ajijic, although it was chock full of expats. An aging, cockroach laden La Nueva Posada plus obnoxiously drunk Texans our first afternoon, put a pall on the whole place. Additionally, there were so many expats, that while the influx of money kept the sidewalks neatly paved, it created an "us" against "them" socio-economic dichotomy that left a bad taste in all our mouths. All the restaurants catered to the foreigners, and there was even a Walmart! It wasn't til the last night when our taxi driver took us to a local taqueria for the real deal Mexican food.

The last several days were spent in Guadalajara city, which while polluted as all getout, was lovely. Before the trip started, I asked my mom if she had planned to buy or borrow a wheelchair for the trip, but she said the cobblestone streets were too challenging, and she didn't think it would work. Besides, she wanted to walk & get stronger.

Nice idea, but not so much in practice. She managed to get out in a carriage ride the second day, but the seat was so challenging, and the carriage so bumpy, her back contorted into spasms afterwards.

It was hard for the three of us to see her constantly sleeping. She flew all the way to Mexico to nap for 3-4 hours every day?

Finally, the last day in GDL, I asked if the hotel had a wheelchair we could borrow, and they did. With the help of a local friend, we got her out to a neighborhood near the Teatro Degollado for a late breakfast, and some strolling through the pedestrian streets.

Additionally, I had a run-in with the a local tall, young, & handsome casanova at the jewelry mall, who tried to put the moves on me, when I thought we were just going on a stroll. Gotta learn some Spanish. It actually got kind of scary, but I did get out of there unscathed. Looking back, I think there was a lot of cultural and language misunderstanding. Despite the disappointment, it forced me to see yet again how I set myself up for misery in these kinds of situations. There were several times when i could have voiced what I wanted to do, but I didn't. After discussing with a pal, I realized in trying to be something I'm not, some kind of subservient ditsy broad because I think that's what guys want, I'm not being authentic. Not being authentic leads me into trouble like the kind in GDL. This reinforces my negative thinking that I'm doomed to never have a boyfriend, and then the cycle of setup for failure continues.

The silver lining is I learned a lot through these hardships. I'm certainly a different person than I was just several weeks ago, and I also can see now what it will take to be a parent. A shit-ton of patience! And, being authentic.

Up next: "Mexico: the good side". Yes, it was not all this doom & gloom. I just wanted to save the lighter side for last.

Labels: cancer, caretake, family cancer, Guadalajara, Mexico, relationships

Breathe.

02:01 Brother update

Last week my brother went in for his usual MRI, and there were more growths that had developed and shown up on the test. Everybody was crushed.

He now has to go through a full body scan, which hasn't been scheduled yet. Maybe these new growths are just benign and stuff. One can hope, at least.

I called him to check in, since we hadn't talked in a while. He had just come back from an awesome spring break with his kids. It was wonderful to hear that they are still all so close, and spending so much time together. These precious times are numbered, as they are for us all, but especially for him & his family.

He said that the kids didn't remember he was sick anymore; they acted as if everything was back to normal. I sure hopeso, for their sake.

Labels: cancer, cancer treatment, family cancer, MRI

Breathe.

01:49 Other

Been meaning to write about this for some time, but have had very little free time lately.

A few weeks back I met a guy through a mutual friend. He's a climber & a skier, a double-word score. So, I really wanted to meet him to see if he was as nice & wonderful as my pal said he was.

In the course of our first climbing date, the story of my family's cancer last year came up. He was visbily irritated. When I asked about his experiences with things like this, he launched into his personal saga about his uncle dying of a brain tumor, stage 4, several years ago.

It was touching that he opened up like this, and it was wonderful, albeit a kind of bummer, to hear his story. Towards the end, we talked about how we had each coped, etc. I told him about this blog, and also about other blogs I had read where people were dwelling in the pain & suffering & grief quite heavily. I explained to this person that I had to stop reading those because it kept me wallowing in the emotional mire, instead of moving on with my life. I told him how happiness was a choice every day, and that I wanted to choose happiness, instead of reading blogs that would influence me to choose unhappiness.

His reaction was certainly unexpected. "Well, there was nothing happy about my uncle dying. I couldn't find anything good that came out if it," he gruffed. Wah - I felt bad. It seemed like I stepped on his toes. But, later I realized I shouldn't have apologized. At the end of the day, there was no harm being done, and his reaction was about his own unresolved grief.

But, what it did teach me was to maybe keep my opinions to myself more. Everybody goes through a family tragedy like death by cancer differently. No one person has the same experience & emotional process as another. So, I realized that I was being pushy & opinionated (as usual), without being more compassionate that his experience might be different.

I let the moment go, and moved on, and continued to have a nice time climbing. But, it dawned me how lucky I am to be walking a spiritual path. By tapping into a power greater than me, these tragic family events have lost a lot of charge. I've come to accept mortality much better, both my brother's, my mom's, and my own.

Yet another wonderful lesson in humility and compassion. Again, I felt grateful for cancer entering into my life, for it's given me an opportunity to grow in ways I never imagined.

Labels: cancer, cancer survivor, compassion, opinions, rock climbing

Breathe.

22:54 Olympics

It's amazing what the gold medal men's hockey round and a couple glasses of wine will do.

While traveling in Europe battling wind storms & mayhem to get to my destination, I finally arrive at the hotel about 15 min into the final game. Immediately all politeness goes out the window, and I implore the hotel staff to turn on the game on the bar TV. "What the hell, I'll have a glass of wine to celebrate making it to my hotel & the game", I thought.

After all my yelling, hooting & hollering at the screen with saves, scores, and near-misses, eventually a fellow conference-goer joins me. By then, the glasses of wine consumed are double, and we are chattering like fools. But, it did help to take away the sting of the OT loss. It was partly hard to cry, because one of my favorite Blackhawks players scored the first Canadian goal.

Still, I truly thought we had a shot after the "miracle" goal at 24 seconds left in the third. That was truly unbelievable!

Anyway, as we began to drown our sorrows in the third glass of wine (mind you I really don't drink & have zero tolerance), I mention this very blog to my hockey compatriot. It turns out, he had a sister die of cancer at 38 years old!

He himself said cancer is everywhere, and it can strike at a moment's notice, with no regard for age, race, location, etc. Despite the pain he went through, I was so grateful he shared his story with me. It reminds me of the strength a person achieves when they have endured watching the suffering of a loved one. It reminded me of my quest for a new career, to move into an area that is less about the bottom line and more about the filling of hearts.

It also reminded me of something I don't consciously think about on a daily basis: my mom & my brother will die. It may not be tomorrow, it may not be the next day, but it will happen. It may not even be the cancer that takes them, but there will come a day when they are no longer with us.

It was a very humble reminder that all our days are numbered, and that we never know when our cosmic pink slip will be issued.

When people meet me, they don't understand why I have so much energy, why I get fired up over a hockey game, why I feel so passionately about the gargantuan efforts of Olympic athletes, or why I talk on & on about the killer climb I did last weekend. They don't understand why I spend 3 days camping in the woods in the middle of winter, or the thrill of the powder run we nailed on the Day 2 hike.

They clearly don't understand that I live. I live each day, each moment. It's the times when I push my body to its limits, when I push my mind beyond the edges of its comfort zone, that I feel most alive. The times when I can be of service are the most beautiful, like caring for my mom while she was in her treatment.

People tell me I'm crazy to be willing to move in with my mom when her chemo is done, since she can't afford a long-term care facility. But, what else could I do? Even though it might be two steps away from hell, the opportunity to be of service to her and her failing body is not something I could pass up. It gives me the gift of humility. It's what has helped me to be cheerful & happy & polite & friendly to all those I have met in Europe, even when stranded in Frankfort for 10 hours. (When I finally reached the airport ticket counter for my train transfer, the first thing I did was thank the attendant lady for her help. It made her smile & feel good. Such a simple thing!)

When my hockey buddy got embarrassed a few times telling me his story, I told him about the fellow I met at the climbing gym, only weeks after returning from caring for my mom, and the fantastic support we offered each other as his dad was dying. I told him that sometimes cancer is like an odor, and all those that have seen it, been through it, and survived, come away with a stink that just won't wash off. Others with the same smell are oddly attracted to one another.

So, we carry on. Today is the first of two jam-packed days of meetings. It's so nice to be out of the office and actually doing my job, which is talking to people & making friends. I just hope I can put these skills to use for a bigger cause someday soon.

Labels: cancer, cancer survivor, career, caretake, ice hockey, Olympics

Breathe.

09:56 Julie and Julia

On the recommendation of my aunt, I rented "Julie & Julia" the other night. It was really cute, but also inspiring.

The "making of" special feature on the DVD really hit it home: the common thing about these two women was their passion, not only for cooking, but also for life. Julia had a passion for everything. Julie's life was lacking passion, and she used the passion of Julia Child to help inspire her.

But before I get into the passion part, one area of the film struck me. It was the scene where "Julie" and her husband had a fight, and she realized how self-absorbed she had become from doing her blog project.

Writing about one's own experience truly launched into popularity in the 21st Century with the technology behind blogging. Sometimes I wonder if writing perpetuates wallowing. The same aunt & I had a laugh about how little we were Facebook-ing, Twitter-ing, and email-ing over the holiday break. She commented, "Yeah - isn't it nice to actually live your life instead of write about it?"

While my blog on cancer is not as popular as some, my intention is to help others. Even if only one other person reads this, and concludes their whole life doesn't have to come to a miserable end & the universe come crashing down because their loved one got cancer, then I have been of service.

While Julia Child certainly had a passion for food, her drive was to bring this passion to others through her cookbook, and subsequent television show. And even though Julie Powell's initial interest was to juice up her stagnate life, her writings went on to inspire others.

Writing is one of my passions, so I carry on, whether unknown & nameless or not. The more I focus my effort on what makes me happy, the more I can be of service to others, especially those in need, like my mom & brother.

Be that as it may, let it be known to all that I'm fully aware of how lucky I am. Both my family members are still alive, and they may continue to live several years. We have an opportunity to get to know one another in a profoundly different way. There is much to be grateful for in all our lives. Whether it's your family or friend who has cancer, or you yourself, if you are still alive today, it's cause for celebration.

Yay! Three cheers for being alive!

Hip hip hooray!
Hip hip hooray!
Hip hip hooray!

Labels: cancer, cancer survivor, family cancer, happiness, Julie and Julia, service, writing

Breathe.

19:53 Mom & Bro Update

Just realized I talk a lot about myself on this blog, but there have been lots of good things going for my mom & brother.

My brother finally skied before Christmas! This is a huge psychological hurdle, more so than physical. (Although the physical challenge was certainly there). He downhill skied with his boys, then cross-country skied the next day. Everyone was so thrilled to hear about it. The fact that he's so motivated to get back in the saddle is a great sign. It's great to hear he's such a fighter.

My mom is also doing well. She's on her Temidar this week, but still doing ok. She took a break from the physical therapy for a week, because she was kinda burnt out about it. It's not that the therapy itself isn't working, but the hassle of the whole thing with timing, etc., had started to wear on her. From here, she'll be going down to 2 days/ week.

It's so great that they are both still here, and their courageous struggle continues to inspire me.

This week was a bad one for me physically, and there were many times when I recalled things they had said, or became thankful for my good health despite the current circumstances.

I had a freak whiplash accident last Sunday from a friend who was trying to give me a bear hug & lift me off the ground. She caught me off guard, and maybe I was trying to resist or something, and my head flopped backward like a dead fish.

Then, the whiplash caused this horrible reaction to a cold I apparently had coming on. Probably cuz I skied so hard the day before leaving CO, then hopped on a plane. What's up with this not being 25 years old anymore? Man, my body can't handle the same stuff like it used to...

Anyway, despite the whiplash causing cold complications resulting in a massive infection & low blood pressure and just all-around misery, I thought many times, "Well, at least I'm not crippled. I have feeling in my hands & feet, not like my brother." And then today, I recalled my mom's positive thinking stuff, and was imagining my in-breath being white light, and my out-breath being smokey grey. It was a meditation technique I learned in yoga class.

All in all, things could be a million times worse. Sure enough, after staying positive this last day, I finally rallied this afternoon. The mind is an incredibly powerful thing.

Yesterday I caught the tail-end of a story on the BBC about a fully quadriplegic man who sailed his sailboat across the ocean to the Caribbean back to the same beach which was the scene of the diving accident that caused his paralysis. Can you believe it? His name is Goeff Holt, and his feat truly gives the rest of us no excuse.

Yeah, maybe somebody ran over your cat today, or you are too sick to go on a ski trip (my situation for next week's trip - wah), or your boss is crabbing at you (like mine is), or your head is stuffed full of boogers (like mine was), but it could be worse! You could have cancer, or be quadriplegic or be dead.

The friend that hugged me feels super guilty, but I keep telling her, "Don't sweat it. Everything happens for a reason." Not sure what the reason is for my mom & brother's cancer, or for me being flat on my back for a week, but more will be revealed. All of these incidents have something in common: they give us a chance to get to know ourselves. Being so slow & weak, & unable to do things is forcing me to be my own best friend, and take _super_ good care of myself. This is always a good thing.

So, life marches on, and everything's going to be great. I can just feel it, like the pounding of the drummers in my head earlier this afternoon... :)

Labels: cancer, family cancer, quadriplegic, sailing, skiing, whiplash

Breathe.

15:04 Alone

Or A Loon? This is a post I've been resisting making, but there's no escaping. It relates to the Bones of the Past.

The most challenging feeling I've had since the family health poop hit the fan, has been loneliness. My sponsor said that working the fourth step often brings this feeling up, and it's ok. She said it's good to let all the resentments fall away, and make room for good stuff to come in. The last few days have seen me write the 4th step a bit. It often gets exhausting, though, to dredge up the Bones. But, it does feel as though there's a release from a lot of pain & suffering, with each line item listed.

However, the lonely feelings still crop up. They partly came up in the last few days due to Female hormones. Ah, yes. They are my friend & my foe at the same time. That being said, it has been difficult for me to be around people since my return from Denver. A group of us went to the First Friday Oakland Art Murmur the other day. For the first time ever in my life, I felt panicky in the crowd. Having people randomly bump into me, not sure if they were high or drunk, or just careless, brought about an uneasiness to my mood. The loud din of street musicians, even though some were really good & fun, was unsettling. I could barely focus on the art that was being shown.

My roommate, who is of the Clan of Easily Distracted, kept wandering off, and needed corralling. That part caused an old surge of memory to dislodge from when I was a kid, and had a few moments where I lost my mom in the store, or at an amusement park or something. That pure, unadulterated fear of being "left behind" by those that are loving & caring for you is unlike anything. Childhood can be scary sometimes.

When we returned home, we went back to our separate rooms to sleep. Me: to my disheveled hovel, Her: to her palace of snuggly delight with her boyfriend. The loud crash of a wave of loneliness hit my rocky psyche.

My roommates boyfriend is really a cool cat. I'm so glad that they are together, because she was single for quite a few years before they began dating. They seem to be really good for one another, and exist in simpatico unlike most couples I know. I'm happy for her, remembering some conversations she had about loneliness not too long ago. There's hope for me yet.

Still, my curmudgeon-y, bitter, jaded, Midwestern stoic mind, cries, "Wahhh!". The committee in my head prepares for a pity party, moving the tables & chairs of my past, laying out the plastic tablecloths of despair, self-pity, and martyrdom. And, every single time, the only one who shows up to the pity party is me. Why is that? A mystery of the universe, to be sure.

One of the most challenging parts of Denver was meeting, and having to let go of, a super cool dude I met at the climbing gym. We had a lovely conversation about all sorts of deep philosophical things, and seemed to get along really well. The gift, was that I could simply be in the moment, and enjoy this man's company no matter what the future would hold.

The sadness came later, with accepting the reality it was a bad time for me to date anyone, and that he had another agenda lined up for himself anyway, which didn't seem to include any dating partner. Hell! For all I know, he was dating someone else before we ever met. The next day was met with a bucket of tears, and anger & frustration at my situation, for a potentially great romance that was never meant to be. It brings tears to my eyes now, just recalling that day.

Although mopey, I refuse to let hope slip through my fingers like a handful of sand. In the last 2 years, two of my very close friends in their 40s both found the loves of their life. They are now blissfully happy in their relationships. Even the blogger gal who lost her mom quickly to a stage 4 brain tumor found a mate not soon after. You can read her story at Daughter of Cancer.

There have been many gifts as a result of these family matters. Slowing down, and doing less will give me an opportunity to open up space for a new person in my life. Having an improved relationship with my mom will set a good foundation for relationship. Letting go of the bones of the past will free me up to remain present while I'm with my partner. Exercising good self care will be essential when relating to another person. Plus, having no one to answer to which allows me to do exactly what I need to heal, is pretty luxurious.

Although it's easy to get into Pity Party mode, it's no fun to play musical chairs with myself. Trusting that everything is exactly in perfect order, is really hard. Often I feel a conglomerate of feelings in one moment: fear, joy, gratitude, and nervousness all rolled into one. Another program friend told me that this was his experience. The English language is too limited to describe this emotional reality. The human psyche is complex, and with continued attention to myself, my own psyche is revealing itself to me more & more. This can only benefit me when in a romantic relationship.

So, we'll see how it goes. As my roommate walks in, hope slowly springs up like a plant newly broken through the surface of dirt into fresh air, and the lonely feelings still linger in a shadowy way, in the back room of my mind. Together & individually, they're both good.

Labels: cancer, family cancer, loneliness, lonely, pity, romance

Breathe.

22:58 Noticing

I'm finally getting to something that's been in my head since last week.

By the 3rd day of being back in the Bay Area, I began my old habit of trying to pack so much into a space of time, before I had to be somewhere else. It happened both in the morning while getting out to the bus for work, and the evening, catching the bus to yoga class.

In both instances, I tried to do "just one more thing" before the time I had to leave. I didn't leave until the time was _absolutely_ down to the wire, the ultimate last second I could leave before missing the bus. Then I rushed to get there, and had to run like hell.

It struck me so hard that after 4 weeks of not being in this schedule, this habit of creating chaos and stress via time management (or lack thereof in this case), sprouted like a weed among roses. It was so instant, so complete, and apparently so stubborn.

Whoa.

It scared me, honestly. I asked myself, "Why are you behaving like this? What's stopping you from simply taking it easy, being on time, and enjoying the moment?"

At present, I think the answer is: fear of my own feelings, fear of being present and not being happy with the moment, fear of being present and _being_ happy, fear of feeling vulnerable or some other feelings I don't like.

F alse
E vidence
A pearing
R eal

The 12-step programs talk about this concept of fear. By believeing my fear is true, it causing great chaos. It gives me the false impression that I'm truly "alive", only if in crisis, and rushing.

As a result, some stuff dropped out of my bag while racing down the hill. I've been forgetting stuff a lot (although that's been most of the last 4 months giving what's going on in my life), and not able to stay present.

The yoga retreat was another great reminder about staying present, and enjoying each moment for what it holds by itself, not for the False Evidence I put on it, Appearing to be Real to me.

Seeing two, not one but, two family members struggle with cancer, really made me stop & think about whether I'm taking advantage of every second of my day. If I'm not being present, what am I doing with myself? Am I seizing all life has to offer? Not at all.

Each time I take a breath, in and out, I'm one breath closer to my own death. This is inescapable. While we all know this on some level, look at all the things created in our society to help us forget it: Prozac, movies, books, iPods, music, computer games, amusement parks, fast cars, prescription & illegal drugs, booze, and anything else that helps you to "check out".

Since noticing what I was doing last week, I've actively made a choice to slow myself down, and let life unfold more. Both days this week, I've walked to the bus & arrived with plenty of time to spare. I haven't gone to the climbing gym once in 7 days. For those who know me and my climbing addiction, this is front page news. I've often been tired early, so I come home early & take naps, or go to bed earlier.

These actions are all super different than I've ever done before. While I'm nervous about gaining weight, since I have barely worked out but once after my return, somehow, something deep inside me is asking me to trust this, to trust the slower me. Hopefully trusting in this new path won't result in needing to buy bigger pants in a few months...

Labels: cancer, cancer survivor, family cancer, grief, mortality, present, time management, yoga

Breathe.

07:30 Yoga Retreat

Didn't have time to post before heading to a yoga retreat at Sierra Hot Springs over the weekend. It was exactly what I needed. The instructor is someone I've taken classes from for about 8 or 9 years, and is also a cranio-sacral bodyworker whom I've worked with for a long time. You can learn more about this teacher here: http://www.youthyogadharma.org/

Anyway, it was a very deep & important time. The theme was Mothers, as it turned out the yoga instructor's mom was also ill. We dedicated our practice to her. The underlying theme, was gentleness, kindness, and compassion for oneself. The teacher brought in many readings from well-known female spiritual guides, that discussed how finding "grace", could be done via gentleness with oneself. The idea was that meditation could lay a foundation for this gentleness, and grace could spring from that. When I get the authors' names, I'll post them.

The first evening after the meditation, I chose a card from the Goddess card deck that the teacher brought with her, and placed on the altar. The card I chose was Inanna, the Queen of Heaven from the Sumerian mythology. Inanna decided to travel to the Underworld, to meet her sister, Eriskegal, the goddess of death. On the way there, she was stripped of all her regalia, and stood naked before her brutally horrible sister. When the Goddess of the Underworld turned her stone eyes onto Inanna, she died, and hung on hooks for 3 days and nights. The only way she could return home, was to find a replacement for herself. All the ones sent to her to replace her were captured by demons. Finally, she chose her arrogant lover, who had ascended her throne while she was gone. A fitting choice, if I do say so...

While I certainly didn't dangle from hooks at the retreat, the story illuminated for me the process I've been going through. Caretaking for my mom was going to the Underworld; and in a way, meeting her was meeting my shadow self. There are many aspects to my mom that are troublesome to me: her constant anxiety, need for self-perfection, magical thinking, and abject willfulness at situations she doesn't like, not to mention her fear of just about everything these days. Yet, she and I are cut from the same cloth. I struggle with these things in many ways. It's taken years of therapy, yoga, meditation, and 12-step programs to undo many of the bad mental & emotional habits I learned from her.

In caring for her, I got to see how far I've progressed. However, it took a lot of strength, prayer, and un-willfulness (meaning letting go of the results) to withstand being sucked back into a negative mindset & habit-track. Every day could have been miserable, if I let it be, or chose it. But, instead, I battened down the hatches of my spiritual core, called for reinforcements through friends & fellowship, let myself cry, and withstood the storm.

The rest of the retreat resulted in me coming back from my visit to the Underworld. I'm not sure exactly who was my replacement - maybe my old self? Either way, a new me was born, rising through the ashes of these challenging times, like a phoenix with twin turbo afterburners.

I was reminded of my choices, and how easily I buckle under the cajoling of strong personalities, with an interaction from another retreat participant. It was amazing to see myself try to blame her for my choice, even though I felt pressured by her offer. In the end, I buckled under her repeated offer. The responsibility falls on me. It was a poignant reminder of how I interact with my mom's willful personality.

I also struggled with interactions with a group of men who were on a nature & mediation retreat. They often sat next to us at the picnic tables for meals. I started to get involved in their business in a seemingly innocent way, over a piece of pie. But, beyond that, my interactions were inappropriately assumptive. None of their conversations were about me, but I tried to make them about me. It was fascinating to see. I can say that now but there was a lot of shame, embarrassment, and KFUK radio all through the evening and next day.

In the Saturday evening meditation, I experienced great pain in the shoulders and upper back area. I figured it was a result of being super loose from all the yoga & massage throughout the day. But our teacher explained that this feeling is common during sitting mediation. It is a result of the heart opening to some new aspect of the self, awaking a part that had been unconscious. It's funny how awareness and advancement to enlightenment involves pain. Although I was skeptical at first, the painful feeling wasn't there the next morning during the morning mediation session. So, it rang true for me after all.

The last days' yoga class, which was 3 hours, was the cherry on top. We did many of the same poses, from the prior day, but with more refinement. There was a lot of shoulder opening work, which also helps to open the heart. The tightness in my right hip was singing a familiar tune by then. During a series of poses involving a block and the shoulders, the instructor told me I was shortening the right arm/shoulder. She said it's likely that the right side of my body is always tight, which pulls at the left side, making it go out.

This statement was like hearing or the first time, the earth really is round. Holy Toledo, I would have fallen over, but I was already lying on the ground. It was then that the realization hit me, that I was getting in touch with the right side of my body in an aware & present way, for the very first time. The right side was always stronger, less injury prone, dominant, and vigilant. The left side was always weaker, prone to injury, clumsy, and scrunched up. Often in bodywork sessions my teacher suggested the right side of my body housed my strength & willfulness, and the left side housed my vulnerability. Now it's clear that in seeing my shadow, my Eriskegal, face to face - in my mom, in others - I was becoming more balanced, more whole. The internal journey was reflected in my outer shell of skin & bones.

Even in writing this, I'm pretty blown away. It was an incredible thing to experience. My hope is that this awareness will continue to remain, and not fade away (another post on that in a minute).

Meanwhile, the retreat ended, we took another excruciatingly hot car-ride (the car's A/C died) West on I-80 (with a respite at Ikeda's - yay!) , and into the Bay Area, where the fog was a welcome cloak of refreshing cool, unlike most days.

It was the perfect thing to wrap up a summer of intensity, emotion, and heaviness. The retreat, and all the lovely ladies who participated, helped me to tie off a giant loose end in my own psyche. I became grounded, aware, and content - dare I even say happy? - by the end. It's amazing how taken care of we are, if we just let life unfold...

Labels: cancer, cancer survivor, family cancer, goddess, hot springs, Inanna, meditation, retreat, sierra, Tahoe, yoga

Breathe.