A Journey Within A Journey

It's hard to believe that the next benchmark on the journey is only two days away. On Monday, I will have the PET/CT Scan which will show how the cancer is responding to the radiation treatment. I am not without some anxiety, particularly since I returned from our wonderful trip with a couple of troubling symptoms, which may or may not be related to the disease. I saw one of my docs today, who said that we will just have to wait for next week's scan. Here I am, reaching out again for your supportive thoughts and prayers. I'll let you know the results just as soon as I have them. Meanwhile, the waiting is providing more opportunity for reflection on all the possibilities. Dr. Canales was quite clear that we can't expect a cure, but that there is a good chance of containment. My night thoughts are mostly about preparing for the ultimate inevitability, while my day thoughts focus on what I have to do today.

Our auto trip (the journey within) was enormously fulfilling for me and full of wonders, beginning with the drive up the splendid Oregon coast on a stunningly gorgeous day. We stayed in Tacoma, within walking distance of the Chihuyi and Tacoma Art Museum and in view of Mt Rainier, stately, ethereal Mt. Rainier, appearing and disappearing in and out of the Washington clouds. It reminded me of our trip to Huang Shan – we arrived there in a heavy overcast, and I expressed my disappointment to our guide that I wasn't going to be able to see any of the beauty. He brushed aside my concerns with “Don't worry, don't worry.” As he said it, the mists were clearing away to reveal a Chinese painting of mountains and valleys, which continued to disappear and reappear. The on-going life of the natural world is so comforting to me...the little hummingbird that faced me in the window over my kitchen sink, hovering with it's tiny beating wings, saying, “It's O.K., we're all here,” and just staying there until my pain could melt into the vast and blend with all of life.

The next step of our magical journey was Jeff's 50th Birthday Party. One approaches Jeff's house through a nondescript neighborhood, entering an overgrown, dirt road alley. Finding a stairway, constructed of grates nestled into a hillside (not good for high heels, but Jeff says no one that ever comes to his house wears high heels), one feels thrust into the story of “The Secret Garden.” A breathtaking profusion of flowers and plants, familiar and unfamiliar, in pots, in beds, surrounding sweet little lawns, room after room of them, cascading down the hillside, the rest of the world out of sight, out of mind; the burgeoning vegetable garden, the cozy chicken coop, the house, restored and decorated as only two strong, able, creative men would do it. The whole evening was out of another childhood storybook - when Bert took Mary Poppins and her charges into the picture he had drawn on the sidewalk (his day job) to have tea in an English garden. Amazingly delicious food, lovingly prepared and served by Jeff's friends, the table beautifully and simply set outdoors in one of the garden rooms, attended by his parents, who have finally, after all these years, embraced their son as he is, and also his four wonderfully individual older sisters who never stopped doting on him – all of it was magical.

Two days later was the storybook wedding of Jimmy and Annette, Barbara Toothman's son and now daughter-in-law. Annette's father is on the music faculty of The University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, and all of her family are performing musicians. The wedding took place in a sea of music, graceful tradition, hopefulness of bright, fresh youth, and palpable love. Along with nature, this is the kind of experience that helps me in the discouragement about the future that I often feel these days. I'm thinking, though, that it's just a part of growing older, the “what is this world coming to” feeling that threatens my mood and serenity. Hasn't every generation come to that in its later years?

Now we go from magic to magnificence, the Canadian Rockies - Jasper, Banff, and Lake Louise. This is our first visit to this part of Canada. We've been through the Rockies in the U.S. several times, and, of course, the Sierras, then a couple of years ago drove through the southern Utah canyon lands. Those trips were like lead ins to the main show, the mighty, rugged, exquisite Canadian Rockies. We spent three days, exploring Jasper and Banff; lunching in the historic Lodge at Lake Louise; catching sight of a grizzly, preventing us from taking a planned hike because, when present, she and her cubs reign supreme; on to Moraine Lake, into which Van fell, attempting to get just the right picture (the only wound sustained being his pride); and ending with Van surrendering to my earnest desire to go on to Emerald Lake and Takka Falls, in the Yoho Preserve, often missed because it exists in the shadow of the much more widely known Banff National Park.

We could have spent the entire vacation time there, still only scratching the surface of the richness of the area. The gorgeous scenery is marred only by the devastating pine beetle infestation. Normally, the pine beetle is naturally controlled by cold winters, birds, and fires which destroy the older trees. Now, with the winters significantly warmer and fire suppression allowing trees to mature ( the beetles prefer the older trees), it has proved impossible to contain the destruction. They are doing what they can in an attempt to control it, as well as harvesting as much of the destroyed forest as possible, (which has to be done as soon as possible after the trees' demise). It's heartbreaking for me, like nature's equivalent of war or genocide. I comfort myself by remembering the recovery of the forests after the Yellowstone and Point Reyes fires.

Very suddenly, driving along the next day, we found ourselves in a totally opposite natural setting. From the intense verticality of the mountains, we were in the equally intense horizontality of the Canadian plains. The sky became huge, the land stretching out endlessly, the restfulness of the prairies allowing for processing the magnificence of the mountains, of life. It was time to listen to music. Van and I have different musical tastes, and our road trips give us a chance to share our differences with each other. Driving across the plains calls for country music, which we both can get into and which the radio abundantly provides. There is often some wisdom embedded in the hokiness: “Hindsight is knowing where you've been; Foresight is knowing where you're going; Insight is knowing when you've been here too long.”

At this moment, my insight tells me that this blog entry is getting too long. I'm only reaching the end of Chapter Two of our journey – there are three more to go. I'll leave you for the moment with my request for your good thoughts on Monday, and, as always, with my gratitude for your attention.

To be continued.

Interim Report

I started this new blogging experience in order to keep all those interested informed about a possibly life-changing event in my life. After the positive, if still preliminary, results of the scan in May, I just returned to living my life as usual, almost as if nothing had happened. Since there seems to be no reason not to, that is just what I'm doing. Nevertheless, I'm finding myself responding to each of you, one by one, as you ask the question, "How are you?" So for those of you who haven't asked yet, but may be wondering, here is my situation. On August 30th, I will have the Pet Scan which will indicate the results of the radiation and whether further treatment will be necessary. Perhaps it is just protective denial, but I don't think about it very much. Maybe that's why I haven't written about it, though, and why I seem to be almost pathologically busy right now. As I say that, I'm reminding myself that we ARE preparing for a month-long road trip, which adds astronomically to the to-do list! It is also reminding me of all that I haven't been keeping current, as I prepare at work and at home to be away for a month.

I am very excited about the upcoming trip. Van and I have so many activities that we engage in separately, but we both love road trips. We haven't done one in a long time, and we're thinking we better do it before the kids have to take our car keys away from us. It has provided a great reason for buying a new Subaru Outback, although the decision to trade in Van's truck left him with a little nostalgic grief. He and that truck had shared many lovely and memorable experiences over the years. On the 20th of July, we will head north, up the coast, through Oregon, and on to the Seattle-Tacoma area, first, for Jeff's 50th birthday celebration (see previous blogs for the history of Jeff), and then to the wedding of Barbara Toothman's son, Jimmy. From there, we go north into Canada (yes, we are remembering to take our passports), through Banff and Lake Louise, and finally down to Twin Lakes in northern Minnesota, where Van's family has a cabin. For all of our married life (our 57th anniversary is on July 11th), we have periodically visited that cabin, so it carries many treasured family memories. Some of those who people the memories will be there, as well as daughter Elizabeth and her children, Joe and Jesse. Then we will go to southern Minnesota with Eliz, Joe and Jesse to their home, spend a few days, and hit the Blue Highways for a return trip to California.

Before we leave, we must say goodbye to our good friend and neighbor of 40 years, Nelee Langmuir. During the Second World War, Nelee and her sister were among the" hidden children," sheltered by brave French citizens from the occupying Nazi's. After the war, she was reunited with her parents, coming to this country. Her second marriage was to Gavin Langmuir, a medieval scholar, our neighbor and a colleague of Van's. Until retiring fairly recently, she taught French at Stanford. Gavin died a few years ago, a grievous loss for her, which she bore with her usual grace and courage. Two weeks ago, she received a clean bill of health, with no evidence of the breast cancer she had suffered previously. Shortly after, experiencing unusual back pain, another galloping cancer was discovered which will very likely take her life before we return on August 20th. When I called to lament my sense of loss, she said, "Well, yes, but I'm getting lots of help... now, how are you?" She is so remarkably balanced - sensitive and sturdy, always interested in and helpful to others, at the same time tending well to herself. It is hard to see such a bright, spirited light go out.

For the first time, I have a laptop to take with me on a trip, so it will be possible to blog. At least, I will be able to register impressions along the way. If any strike me as worthy of passing on, perhaps you will hear from me. Otherwise, August 30th will undoubtedly inspire an update.

P.S. If any of you in the Bay Area can scare up a kid, or have enough kid in you, DON'T MISS Peter Pan, playing at Ferry Park until Sept. 5th www.peterpantheshow.com. Faith, Alice, and I took Mollie. No wonder I picked that scrappy little Tinker Bell as my special helper!

Mollie and "Wendy"

Good News!

To the many requests for results of the latest scan, I have been saying, "No news is good news." I think Van was wanting me to call, just to check, but I was figuring that if there was anything I needed to know, they would tell me. Yesterday, we met with the radiation oncologist, Dr. Gillis, and I was right! There is no spread of cancer, and it appears that the radiation is working. There were three sites being radiated, two of them involving nodes. One of them appears to be totally clear; the other is barely visible. The third site is a mass which is fuzzy, indicating that it is breaking up and seems to be smaller already. The next scan, in July or August, will be a better indication of the results of the treatment. It also seems clear that the sternum fracture is healing. Van and I celebrated with breakfast at the Main Street Coffee Company, tucked in an unlikely neighborhood in Redwood City. One wouldn't want their old-fashioned hearty breakfasts everyday, but it is fun every once in a while. (Google it for more description).

I am thanking the Powers That Be on a daily basis for evidence-based medicine and for my trust and faith in the power of Right Thought (and prayers), my own and the stream surrounding me from all of you.

Fifth Week of Waiting

The big event of this week was a reunion with my old friend and colleague, Glenn Olf, and his wife, Jeanne Ewy. Glenn and I worked together for many years doing couples therapy and facilitating groups. During my stint at Midpeninsula Health Service, Jeanne was Executive Director (my boss). I grew up professionally during the years that Glenn and I were partners, and I am indebted to him for his role in helping me see myself more clearly. That was an exciting time in my personal history. Working at MHS with Jeanne, I could follow my intent as a social worker to be on the forefront of social change, particularly in health care. They were also years of transition from wanting to save the world to realizing that the only life I could save was my own. There is something reassuring about these re-connections, a comforting sense of continuity. Perhaps this harvest season of life is a time of gathering the fruits of a lifetime of sowing and cultivating. It is gratifying that there is a sense of bounty, in spite of the droughts and devastations of fate, and the neglect and wrongdoings of unconsciousness.

Somebody, this week, referred to "ever since you got sick", meaning ME! It was jarring, because I don't think of myself as "sick." Perhaps it's because of my upbringing in Christian Science, or perhaps it's because, while I am a person who has cancer, there is more of me, as that person, than the sickness. Couldn't the spirit be healthy, even if the cancer were to ravage the body? My personal bible would include the following parable:

Two Wolves

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a
battle that goes on inside people.

He said, 'My son, the battle is between two 'wolves'
inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow,
regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt,
resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride,
superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope,
serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy,
generosity, truth, compassion and
faith.'

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then
asked his grandfather:

Which wolf wins?'

The old Cherokee simply replied, 'The one you feed.'

Fourth Week of Waiting

Indeed, the weather turned beautiful again, the roses are busting out all over, and Van is back, recovering from jet lag. Last Friday, I attended a celebration honoring the publication of C.G. Jung's "Red Book" (writings and illustrations representing his inner images - a kind of magnificent journal). The talks were very interesting, but the highlight for me was an all-too-brief reconnection with my friend Bonnie, whom I met in graduate school and is now a Jungian analyst. Ours is a tried and true friendship of many, many years, during which we would have periods of close association, separated by years of little contact. The sharing over the years of the joys and pains of our lives has created a sturdy bond that stays strong, even through the years of separation. One of the gifts of my confrontation with mortality is the experience of exquisite sweet affection that wells up in the presence of these people so dear to me.

Therefore, I was surprised to find myself feeling low the next day. A little inner dialogue revealed a sadness over the losses that come with aging. Bonnie is in her 60's - the most glorious decade of my life. I don't like the feeling of being left behind, but I'm no longer interested in trying to keep up, either. These thoughts were interrupted by a call to son John about going over the next day to Susan's (John's wife) open studio in Benicia. Very quickly, plans developed that included son Peter and Denise, grandson Holden and Courtney. It felt like divine intervention, bringing me quickly back to where I am, and who I am. I was talking with my granddaughter, Jesse, shortly after her daddy died, about her feelings. She said, "Oh, Nanny, it's like the clouds come over the sun from time to time, and then they drift away, and there's the sun again."

The sun was shining brightly the next day as we headed over to the East Bay to join the family at Susan's studio in Benicia. Her work is inspired, creative and varied. Currently, she is involved with interior design, creating amazing decorative surfaces for floors, walls, counters, using unusual techniques and materials. Her artistic sense is so natural to her that I wonder if she even realizes how talented she is.

I'm later than I had intended in posting this - my train of thought was interrupted by a call scheduling the CT Scan that I was questioning. I understand, now, that it is intended to see if the cancer has traveled anywhere else. Van heard me making the appointment - "it's a nail biter, isn't it", he said. When I told Helen, she said, " Oh, that will be reassuring, won't it." I think I'll go with the theme of reassurance, although you can imagine me waiting and wondering. I'll let you know as soon as I know - keep the good thoughts coming.

Second and Third Week of Waiting

My life is continuing so normally - I forget that I'm in a waiting-to-see mode. My friend and surrogate son, Jeff, who has been here for the last two weeks, accused me of faking this "supposed" illness. We had as good a time as ever hanging out, cooking, chatting, watching movies, and, most importantly, refreshing the garden. Jeff came into our lives about twenty-six years ago and taught me everything I know about gardening (with all the metaphors for life), while making beautiful gardens for us year after year. About twelve years ago, he relocated to Seattle but continued to come down once or twice a year to care for those of us, and our gardens, left bereft in his absence. When he comes, it's as if the plants know that he's here - they wake up and clamor for his attention. Everybody (the plants and I) feel rejuvenated by his presence. Missing in this wonderful mix, however, was Van. We had to get along without his remarkable insights, questions, suggestions, and humor. I even missed our gardening arguments, which Jeff is masterful at mediating. Van will be returning from his China trip on Tuesday, the day the weather is supposed to change. I was hoping he'd arrive on a day as beautiful as those we're having this weekend.

Like the weather, there are occasional clouds. I got a call requesting that I schedule a CT scan. I was surprised because the radiation results won't be reliable for another couple of months. Apparently, this one is to see whether the cancer has appeared anywhere else. Today, I attended a seminar about Professional Wills, something I've been procrastinating about for 30 years. Now it seems urgent. I will pay "right attention" to these cloudy issues, while basking in the sunshine of music, the poetry of Sri Aurobindo, and the outreaches from all of you - soup from Gretty, memories from Dean, an upcoming visit from long-lost Glenn - keep 'em coming!

First Weekly Report While Waiting

With all the distractions of my life, I'm not really aware that I'm “waiting.” Van left, with some ambivalence, for China on Wednesday, reassured that I'd be O.K. because Jeff (my gardening pal and surrogate son from Seattle) was to arrive on Friday. Jeff's presence alone is healing, and working in the garden, especially with Jeff, has always been good for my soul. He got here early enough to go for a Dish walk (for those of you who are not local, we call the satellite that sits way up in the open space above Stanford, “The Dish.”) It was the first time I'd been up there since my diagnosis. I took it slowly with walking sticks and camelback (for water), not as easy as it used to be, but the exercise felt great. Also this week, I went back to riding my bike to work, and that feels so good.

Yesterday (Saturday), we went plant shopping at a very interesting nursery in South San Francisco – The Flora Grub – and brought lots of treasures home to plant in my garden. Today it's raining, good for the garden but not inviting us to work in it. Except for a walk around Lake Lagunita (started with a little sun, but ending with a good soaking), Jeff and I are hanging out – he's working on a design project and I'm finishing my to-do list for the weekend.

Thanks for all your ongoing support – Cousin Brigie continues to stop into the temples in Taiwan to offer up prayers; Virginia sent a Medicine Buddha, as an assist to Tinkerbell; Grace is wondering what happened to this week's blog update, as is Laurel. I am quite surprised and touched by people's interest in this unfolding, rather ordinary story. It certainly is helping me, so I shall continue to write weekly updates during this waiting period.