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.

My First Photo Blog!

Here's the photo story of my last treatment:

(1) standing by my 'Healing Machine'

(2) going in for very last treatment (32 in all!)

(3) with 'Team Yosemite', Adella & Nate

(4) on the way out the door to celebrate!

The Sixth – and Last - Week

My, that went fast! As one of my friends said, I am now Radiant. I have a “CERTIFICATE OF COMPLETION, Given this 2^nd Day of April, 2010.” As with all graduations, the relief is mixed with the sadness that comes with endings. I've always had difficulty with “It's Over.” It helped today that my friend Helen was there to take pictures and go out afterwards for a celebratory coffee.

This week, I felt a little more fatigued than I have before, so I welcomed the several rides that were offered and the company of these great friends. I was not too tired, though, to take a lovely walk last Sunday with my sister Portia. She brought me a Prayer Plant – yes, that is the name of it -- how could I not be O.K. with the people in my life coming up with such thoughtful support? I have a lovely collection of heartwarming cards, letters, emails, and a bunch of beautiful lilacs on my kitchen table.

Now the waiting begins – three months for the unseen work of the radiation to be completed. Tinkerbell will be very busy, sweeping up dead cells, maybe working a little magic. Then we'll see what happened in there. Dr. Canales, the team leader, wants to do a CT scan after six weeks, just to check progress, I guess, but we won't have a final result until after two to three months.

As the first chapter of this story comes to an end, I'm reminded of my childhood love affair with Christopher Robin, who was described at the end of his Measles Drama (quite a story – look it up in Now We Are Six) as follows:

"Christopher Robin woke up in the morning,

The measles had vanished away.

And the look in his eye

Seemed to say to the sky,

Now, how to amuse them today?”

Stay tuned - we'll see...