Category: Musings

Medical Update ~ Time for Reflection

LuAnn

Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark. ~  Rabindranath Tagore

For those who may not know, 4.5 years ago my dear hubby Terry received the news that many of you can relate to, the “you have cancer” message.  To say this news took the wind out of our sails is an understatement.  We quickly began to unravel our plans to start our RV life as the future looked rather uncertain at this point.  Through divine grace, a mother’s keen recommendation for a must-have book, a close friend’s referral and unselfish gesture of taking us into their home post-surgery to heal, and the countless well-wishes of family and friends, we feel much stronger and wiser.

My strong he-man!

If a man is faced with this diagnosis, prostate cancer may be the lesser of many evils as most times it is a slow-growing cancer found in one’s “golden years” and it is left alone.  Unfortunately, Terry was informed he was too young and the tumor too large to ignore, so surgery seemed to be the best option.  Blessed with none of the horrid side-effects this disease can hand you, Terry donned the Lance Armstrong LiveStrong bracelet and vowed to wear it until he had reached the “industry standard” survival rate of 5 years.

On the trail, in his element

Fast-forward 4 years, through many anxious moments following regular PSA tests.  All had great results until this past January when Terry’s PSA score was somewhat elevated.  Once again we unraveled our plans as it seemed bone scans and MRI’s were in Terry’s near future and we felt the need to sit tight where there was a plethora of excellent medical facilities.

Last week yet another PSA test.  I try to put myself in Terry’s shoes as he leaves the lab and begins the waiting game.  Although I can empathize and pray for a good outcome, putting myself in his shoes is not possible, for this is his personal journey to walk.  We all have these, being unique individuals, and face life’s obstacles differently.  Terry knows I am by his side and for me, that is what is important.

Hiking the Oregon dunes

Terry’s latest PSA score was the same as the previous two, which means he has held steady for the past nine months.  The good news – the number has not increased.  The not-so-good news – the number is still somewhat elevated, which means there is something going on.  This “something going on” could be benign or could be something else; we don’t know.  The doctor is confident enough that he feels the watchful waiting can continue for another 6 months.

Many who now live with cancer or consider themselves survivors wear the Live Strong bracelet, as did Terry, until a few days ago when his broke. Ironically the break occurred while anxiously awaiting a return call from his doctor on the lab results.  His first thought was “wonder what that means?”.  My initial reaction was “you no longer need this; it’s time to move on”.

Living Strong

Terry and I often talk about how deeply grateful we are for the ability to experience life as we are, seeing this magnificent country, walking in nature, feeling the hand of something greater touching us.  We can dwell on the ‘something else’ or we can live in the present moment.  It is our choice and we choose to live the now.  Terry chooses to breathe in the beauty around him, the sights, the sounds, the smells, the people we are meeting along the way.  I choose the same, as I walk by his side.

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For A Reason

LuAnn

People come into our life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. ~ Unknown

He came bundled in a heavy Carhartt coat, although the weather didn’t call for this.  His was a comfortable face, one would say even attractive, although weathered by time and circumstance, I’m sure.  The eyes are what I was drawn to, warm and forgiving, I thought.  When he told me a little of his story, the eyes belied his life.  His was the face of the homeless.

I have volunteered feeding the homeless, but other than a “hello, how are you, enjoy your meal” I never took the time or had the opportunity to learn about the person I was feeding.  Most times those being given what may have amounted to their only meal of the day were appreciative but there was an emptiness to them, a hollowness where life on the streets had stripped them of their marrow.  The gentleman who walked into the laundry room this day did not exude these tremulous feelings.  Eye contact was made; greetings were passed; and I soon began to learn his story.

He was very deliberate about the telling, very matter-of-fact, no anger, no sadness, just a story to tell it seemed.  He had an audience in me, as we were the only souls inhabiting this space and it was laundry day for him.  Truth is I wanted his story; I needed to know his story.

It’s cold in the wintertime, and the handouts are few.  Is the whole world so blind to the plight of the few?  It could be your neighbour, who should be your friend.  In the heart of the homeless the heartaches don’t end.   ~  Farrell and Farrell

Having been on the streets since 1996 he seemed aware of current events in the area and worked from time to time, when he could find it.  When work was not to be found, he took to the bottle.  He knew this was his weakness and was honest about that.  Today seemed to be a slow day for work based on the pungent smell wafting off of him.

I asked where he slept and if he was warm enough.  He said he was fine and that   there were others much more in need than he.  The loss of a job some years back started this downward spiral and he knew no job now could get him to a place where he could afford rent.  His car went the way of his job when it refused to start one day.  A simple story but one that could be told by millions of people today balancing on the precipice.

Earlier that day I had received an email from a friend, one that has been passed around time and again about the reason people come into our lives, some for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  His was for a reason, although I am not yet sure why.  I am just thankful for the chance meeting.

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Don’t laugh at me;  don’t call me names.  Don’t get your pleasure from my pain.  In God’s eyes we’re all the same.  Someday we’ll all have perfect wings.  Don’t laugh at me.  Don’t laugh at me.  ~  Mark Wills

A Painful First

LuAnn

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal.  ~ From a headstone in Ireland

Many anniversaries invoke warm, tender memories but for those who knew and loved Barbara Burke, this anniversary is anything but.  Today is the first anniversary of her passing and although I knew this day was drawing near,  I am in disbelief.  I cannot accept that you are gone, my dear friend, even one year later.  Sometimes my mind tricks me into believing that you are still sitting at your computer, creating vibrant works of art, all with your big toe.  But there is no one there to count down the days until my visit, as we always did.  Where are you now?

I walk along the beach and feel you in the warmth of the sun, the cool breeze on my skin, the power in the surf, the grace of the soaring birds overhead.  I see glimpses of your essence in others and wonder, is that you?  Are you trying to communicate with us?  Or is this what I do to comfort myself?

Some of the most intimate times we shared  is when I read to you.  The book “Anam Cara” by John O’Donahue was one of your favorites and the discussions we had after always touched me deeply.  It was beautiful; it was moving; it is so damn tough to finish without you here.  I can’t seem to pick it up and move on from where we ended.  How ironic it is that John O’Donahue, Irish poet, priest, and philosopher died suddenly at age 53, just as you.  Both of your voices were quieted much too soon.

An excerpt from his book “Benedictus”, a book of blessings written  shortly before his death, seems fitting at this time:

‘May there be some beautiful surprise
Waiting for you inside death
Something you never knew or felt,
Which with one simple touch
Absolves you of all loneliness and loss,
As you quicken within the embrace
For which your soul was eternally made.

‘May your heart be speechless
At the sight of the truth
Of all your belief had hoped,
Your heart breathless
In the light and lightness
Where each and every thing
Is at last its true self
Within that serene belonging
That dwells beside us
On the other side
Of what we see.’

You always loved flowers, particularly your morning glories, which always remind me of my mother.  When you sensed your time was drawing near and you were struggling with knowing when to let go, you captured some of these beauties at the end of their season, hanging on a vine by a thread, and developed a Power Point presentation which became an analogy for your life, when to let go.  How our hearts ached and the tears flowed when we watched this.

Your grace and beauty live on through your artwork, music, photos, letters to family and friends and the countless memories we hold so dear.  The grief that you felt at your illness and impending death we too experience.  We will come to the acceptance as you did, although not very soon I fear.  You touched us all so deeply Barbara and for me, you will always be my anam cara, my soul friend.

The Lovers’ Holiday

LuAnn

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, the holiday for lovers.  I realized that I didn’t know the true origins of this holiday so thought I should do my homework .  A quick Wikipedia check provided me with the following information:

Saint Valentine’s Day was originally established in 496 AD by Pope Galasius, honoring early Christian martyrs by this name.  In 1969, Pope Paul VI removed it from the General Roman Calendar of saints, perhaps because our present-day celebration of this holiday no longer resembles its original intent?

In the Middle Ages Chaucer was the first to associate February 14th with romantic love.  As early as the 15th century, Valentine’s Day became an occasion when lovers expressed their affections for each other with flowers, sweet treats, and greeting cards.  Not much has changed over the years, except maybe the amount of money shelled out on this holiday.

As has become the case with other holidays, sometimes commercialism gives us an easy out, by expressing for us through a greeting card or a gift what we don’t take the time to say ourselves often enough, just a simple ‘I love you’.

I have had the good fortunate to be married to a wonderful man for the past 21 years, a devoted husband who, for whatever reason(s), has put up with my crazy, neurotic ways.  In spite of them all, he respects my individuality, as I do his.  On this most romantic of holidays, it seems a fitting time (perhaps not the most conventional way), to honor the man he is and let him know how blessed I am to be his wife.  I love you honey!

Although this is the day devoted to lovers, shouldn’t every day be about honoring those we love?

Happy Valentine’s Day!  ♥

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Why Are Some People So Mean?

LuAnn

Pregunta del día – why in Spanish you ask?  Well, I promised myself that I would continue to practice my Spanish after our year of travel in Mexico and I have yet to sit down and do it, so indulge me a little, ok?  By the way, if you haven’t figured it out yet, it means question of the day.

So, my question of the day, and one that comes to mind quite often, is why are some people so mean?  We all know the Golden Rule, right?  Do unto others as we would have others do unto us.    It seems like such an easy concept but much more difficult for many to put into practice.

I remember back when I was a young, eager manager, working with the public.  I decided to have a staff meeting and one of my first reminders to the staff was the importance of treating others as we would like to be treated.  Something our mothers taught us and simple, right?  Everyone should just nod their heads in agreement now and I can move on to other business.  What I got instead was the big eye-roll.  What the heck?!

We certainly can all theorize over why people are so mean.  So let’s start by laying out some of the reasons for this behavior:

  • unhappiness with our own lives
  •  emotional or physical pain
  • fearfulness
  • jealousy
  • anger
  • low self-esteem

There are any number of reasons, or excuses, some might say, for why we are mean.  It is true we are products of our upbringing but this becomes a tired, worn-out expression, doesn’t it, when we use this as justification for being so hateful to others.  To me it just feels like I expend more energy being mean (and yes, I can be) than when I practice compassion.

Martha Beck, PhD and columnist for O Magazine, wrote a very interesting piece on the subject, addressing how we can and should respond to those mean-spirited people we meet in our lives.  No, you guessed it, we shouldn’t slap a “Mean People Suck” sticker on our back bumper and call it good.  There are much more fruitful ways of empowering ourselves.

Given the world we now find ourselves in, it is not surprising to hear more reports about bullying, domestic violence, hate crimes, and child abuse popping up in the news.  Sometimes I’m shocked I don’t meet more hateful people than I do!  I’d like to think that maybe it has something to do with how I treat people (for the most part, lest you think I have a Mother Teresa complex, or something).

Since I can’t fix anyone else (and goodness knows I’ve tried!) I choose today to practice compassion with everyone I meet.  Given that it is an overcast, chilly day (a good day to stay indoors), one of the few I will see today is my husband.  What a lucky man he is, at least for today!

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