Waiting for the Light to Return

I just spent a much needed Shabbat, a day of rest. I ended up working a full 40 hours last week, despite my best intentions. I hate getting too far behind in work. Also, I got a new client and I wanted to meet with him on Friday, since he arrived on Wednesday and I hadn’t had much of a chance to connect with him. I have a fascinating client load at the moment. Of course, I can’t go into any sort of detail, but I didn’t expect to be dealing with highly educated clients in a facility that was originally set up to serve the indigent. It has been an eye opener for me.

I get to teach a class in criminality there, one which all clients must attend. I decided that with the holidays looming, the curriculum wasn’t strength-based enough, so I decided to work on a two week long project, having each person there complete a ten minute “intention protocol” consisting of attunement statements, affirmations, appreciation, short and long term goals, and a “listening” section for what they receive in guidance after each session using their intention protocol. It’s something that I used to heal from breast cancer. The idea is to create a six page booklet to read to oneself for ten minutes, once in the morning upon waking and once before going to sleep. Many of them saw the video “The Secret” over Thanksgiving so they are familiar with the Law of Attraction this project is based on that.
Some of the men are puzzled by the exercise, especially the young ones, and they wonder what this has to do with criminality. Others of them are taking it to heart and doing their assignments faithfully in class. The truly brave ones share what they have written and it’s extremely wonderful stuff. I’m also giving them “a chakra a day” and again, many are really enjoying the exercise, learning about power centers in the body and how to spiritually increase their power through meditation. And of course, others are not getting it at all. But it has been an interesting exercise. I only spend about five minutes a day on the chakra information, but at the end of it, I’ll do a Qi gong exercise with them.

The intention protocol that I used last year and continue to use even now has evolved. Right now it looks like this:

Attunement:

I attune myself with my highest power, with God.
I attune myself with my high-self committee.
I ask for your love, your guidance, and your protection.
I attune myself with my own inner wisdom and my ability to receive divine guidance.
I attune myself with the wealth and abundance of the universe, with prosperity, friends, love, learning, health compassion, sharing, meaningful work, opportunity and balance.
I attune myself with all the prayers, love, and healing energy sent my way.
I walk with a loving God.
Winds blow, typhoons roar, worlds collide, yet I remain undisturbed.
As I walk into infinity with wisdom I follow the right path.
I am amply provided for on my journey.

Affirmations:

I am wealthy.
I appreciate my wealth and abundance.
I deserve my wealth and abundance.
I have many friends and family members who love and support me.
Money flows to me as I need it in abundant quantities.
I find meaningful and interesting and fun work for which I am well compensated and well appreciated with excellent benefits.
I am beautiful and funny and charming, disarmingly so.
I am healthy, completely free of cancer, and will live a long, happy, and prosperous life.
I have great clarity, coherence, and power.
I take excellent care of myself.
I have a wonderful job that I love, a permanent position with full benefits, a job that found me at just the right time, with wonderful people with which to work for supervisors and colleagues, and great clients.
My mind works perfectly well, my memory is excellent and I can retrieve any information I need. I am creative. I express myself artistically and verbally with great skill and insight.

Short Term Goals:
(These are too quirky and personal to list here)

Long Term Goals:
(These are too quirky and personal to list here)

Appreciation:

I am grateful for:
My two wonderful husbands who take excellent care of me.
My two wonderful sons, who are kind, intelligent, sane, and talented.
I’m grateful to Andrine for the kindnesses that she showed me and the massages she gave me that were so helpful in my in my darkest days of treatment.
I am grateful for my beautiful home and the delightful people who live in it.
I am grateful for my work situation at UCLA when I had cancer, good benefits, medical leave, hospital bills paid for, disability insurance, a job I loved with great people to work with.
I am grateful for the support of my friends and family and Havurah Shalom.
I am grateful for my excellent surgeons, Dr. Pommier and Dr. Hansen.
I am grateful that the cancer was caught early, that I survived chemo and neutropenia, that I’m cancer-free now, healthy and thriving.
I’m grateful that I done with chemo and with surgery!
I’m grateful from my support group, the Mind and Body group, and the Eat to Beat group at Project Quest.
I’m grateful for my own room, for my computer, my camera, and my blog.
I’m grateful for my education, my MSW degree, and my CADC I.
I’m grateful for my intelligence and my courage and my perseverance.
I’m grateful that I had such wonderful parents who gave me great love and guidance.
I’m grateful to Lysanji, Barbara MacDonald, Lori, Andrine, Lusijah, Jo, Carla, Wendy, Andrine, Louise, Susan Hedlund, Paddy, and Kathleen for their help in healing from cancer.
I’m grateful for the return of my energy and my ability to think and write.
I’m grateful for the Write Around Portland workshop and the opportunity to write in community.
I’m so very grateful for my new job and the wonderful people there.
I’m grateful to be able to ride my bicycle.
I’m grateful to be able to do yoga and other forms of exercise.
I’m grateful for a regular meditation practice.

Listening:

I have survived this “healing opportunity.”
I have healed, I am continuing to heal, and I will live a long and happy life.
My job is not about saving the world “out there.”
It’s about saving the world inside, building my core, becoming strong in a new way, in a way I’ve never tried before, in a way I’m learning to imagine. It’s a journey to be
experienced one day at a time, a journey with great rewards and discoveries.
I am strong again, energetic and calm.
I have learned balance, how to attend to my needs for nurturance, how to be aware of my needs, how to ask for help, and how to share to load.

I am calm and energetic.
I radiate competence, love and compassion for myself and others.
I am infused with love and gratitude. I express love and gratitude every day.
I leave behind old patterns that do not serve me. I remember to use my new tools and resources every day.
I exercise every day.
I sing and/or play music every day.
I eat foods that nourish me.
I meditate every day, morning and night.
I take frequent breaks to recharge emotionally, physically, and spiritually,
I give from ever renewing resources that I tap into easily.
I tap into the universal fountain of love and compassion.
I tap into the boundless source of energy.
Prayers:

May I be at peace.
May my heart remain open.
May I know my true nature.
May I be healed.
May I be a source of healing for others.
May I dwell in the breath of God.

-St. Theresa of Avila


Because I am at peace, my heart is open.
Because my heart is open, my true nature is revealed.
Because I know my true nature, I am healing.
Because I am healing, I am a source of healing for others.
And as ever and always, I dwell in the breath of God.

Thank you for bringing me to peace.
Thank you for opening my heart.
Thank you for revealing to me my true nature.
Thank you for healing me.
Thank you for allowing me to be a source of healing for others.
For as ever and always, I dwell in the breath of God.




God has no body on earth but ours
No hands but ours, no feet but ours.
Ours are the eyes with which he is to look out with compassion to the world.
Ours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which he is to bless our fellow beings now.

-St. Theresa of Avila

I added the prayer section at the end for myself. It's a bit odd that St. Theresa's prayers are the ones that carried me through the hardest times, because I'm Jewish. It's not like the Jewish liturgy is lacking in powerful prayers. But it was the first prayer listed here that really spoke to me and I used it for meditation purposes and altered as I showed above.

Tales of the Grinch

It’s been a hell of a rough ride lately. I had surgery on the fourth of December, early in the morning. It went well enough, and I went home in the afternoon. However, once I stepped out of the car I immediately vomited, and was projectile vomiting through the afternoon. Howard, God bless him, was charged with the task of cleaning up after me, stumping around with his broken foot in a boot, mop and bucket in hand. If I ever doubted his love for me (and actually I haven’t) I now can have none. When we got married for better or worse, I guess this was on the “worse” list that he signed up for. He cleaned up after me graciously and without complaint. In the evening I finally remembered I had some anti-nausea medication left over from chemo so I took some and my life immediately improved. So did Howard’s.

I took the week off from work and seemed to be mending well. Surgery was on a Tuesday and by Thursday I felt well enough to attend the company party, which was held in a very elegant hotel with lovely food and a great swing band. David was my date (invited for his many sterling qualities, such as his ability to find his way around without my direction) so I even managed to dance. I felt great and wondered why that surgeon had insisted that I not return to work until the following Tuesday.

The next day I found out. I was exhausted. It was back to recovery mode, a good day followed by a bad day. I was down for the count. I laid low that day and the next. On Saturday I went to my weaving class at Quest and that was fun, but tiring. The next day we had a big party because Mark Ettinger came and gave a house concert. It was a delightful evening and it was so fun to see him again and hear his new songs. I stayed up late (for me). The next day, well, I was tired, but better than I had been.

That was Monday and I went to see the surgeon. The top half of me was looking pretty good, but the site on my thigh where the skin graft was taken from looked sort of gruesome. The surgeon had taken a large smile shaped chunk of skin about three inches long from my upper inner theigh. Instead of sewing it back together, she sort of super-glued it. However, I have an allergy to adhesives, so my body rejected the glue and the wound was starting to gape open. She said that it wasn’t a huge problem, but if it got much worse, I should come see her.

I went back to work on Tuesday and had a great day. It was wonderful to be back. I was a little disoriented having missed a whole week and of course the paperwork had piled up, but life was okay. I taught my class, I saw clients and I felt great. I took the Max home and walked from the station to our house because the bus didn't come fast enough and I felt some urgency since I had agreed to drive my housemate to OHSU to see his doctor because he was in a health crisis. I got home with no time to spare so I skipped dinner and drove him there. In getting out of the car at OHSU, I turned on the seat and I felt my wound open even more. We spent some time waiting, then seeing the doctor and finally it was time to go home. Then the same thing happened when I got out fo the car after driving him home: I opened up the leg wound even more when I got out of the car. It was late, about 9 pm when I hobbled in and I still hadn’t had dinner. David had made some soup so I had a bowl even though I hate to eat late. Then I went to bed, but it was a lot later than I had intended.

I woke up Tuesday at 5 am and started the next day. That day was okay, too, but I was moving a little slower. By Wednesday morning however, I realized that I was in bad shape. I went to the doctor’s office, intending to stay there until I could see someone, but they made an appointment for 11 so I decided to go to work in the interim. I went to a meeting and then back to OHSU to see my surgeon’s colleague. The nurse practioner came in first, took some information, and then asked to see the wound. Her eyes got big and then she said that she thought the surgeon should see this. I heard her out in the hall with him. I couldn’t exactly make out their words, but she sounded a little alarmed. The surgeon and the nurse practioner entered the room presently. He took a look and said, yes, these things happen sometimes but that the body can heal it from the inside out. I expressed my concern that it was just getting huger and huger and deeper and deeper. It looked like an enormous crater in my leg. And it hurt. He said well, no, it didn’t hurt him at all. What a smartass. I told him that he wasn’t the one I was worried about. He advised me to do a wet-to-dry bandage on it. I could clean it with soap and water and run water directly on it, then put wet guaze on it with dry gauze over it and tape in on, twice a day. The Nurse practioner showed me how to do this, gave me some bandaging supplies, and off I went, back to work.

The next day I was even more exhausted but I soldiered through. However, by Friday I was completely out of it. I found that I couldn’t even write a simple note. I didn't have the ability to write full sentences anymore. I had supervision and my clinical supervisor took one look at me and wondered why I had bothered to show up. I was so far gone. The crater in my leg wasn’t healing, I hadn’t slept well for a long time. I ended up staying late at work because I couldn’t figure out how to go home. I got stuck in traffic on the way home and almost had a meltdown, but decided that would be too time-consuming. I made it through, battled my way to Fremont, and picked up groceries for dinner.

I got home at 7 pm and found my dear friend Deborah, her daughter and her daughter’s two little girls had been waiting for me since 3 pm but I hadn’t had time to pick up messages so I hadn't realized they had gotten in so early. I got a hasty Shabbat dinner on the table by 7:30. We had eight at the table for dinner. I’m pretty good at crude but effective meal preparation and I was in fine form even in the midst of overwhelming exhaustion. I was too tired to move after dinner and Deborah cheerfully cleaned up the kitchen.

She was leaving for Florida early in the morning to take care of her mom who had just had surgery for sinus cancer. Deborah had driven up from southern Oregon and her daughter Beth had driven down from Port Townsend to my house so that Deborah could give Beth Christmas presents to take home. Deborah had spent lots of money getting together toys, clothes, and bedding for all them because Beth doesn't have a lot of money. I didn’t realize that all of the stuff had been put in Beth’s car. Had I been more on top of it I could have told them not to leave anything outside in a car because it will be broken into, probably by one of my future clients. Well, in fact it was broken into, all the Christmas presents stolen, the side window smashed, the speakers ripped out, all before midnight. Deborah woke me up in tears. It was such a disaster. I had only slept a couple of hours and there was no sleeping after that. I stayed awake until it was time to drive her to the airport at 5 am.

I am amazed at the resilience of human beings. All her hard work for nought, Christmas ruined for her family, the car window smashed, the speakers ripped out, Deborah rallied and was calm and gracious, apologizing to me, of all things, for waking me up and “imposing” on me. I felt so awful that I hadn’t thought this out and warned her about car prowlers in this neighborhood. That’s the price of exhaustion. The brain just doesn’t make the connections it should and my dear friend and her family suffered for it. By the time I let her off at the airport, she was smiling and upbeat again. She gathered her suitcases and went into the terminal and I went home again and got a couple more hours of sleep before I woke up again to make breakfast for Beth and the girls and look for someone to repair the smashed window. David came down to help with that task and we soon found someone to come to the house to fix the car. It turned out that Beth had no insurance at all so we insisted that she drive Deborah’s car to Port Townsend and leave hers here until insurance could be arranged. Otherwise, if she got in a wreck it would have had huge repercussions. There are still some logistics to work out to get her vehicle home. I called William (Deborah’s husband) and he is willing to handle that end of things.

So, as we keep telling ourselves, it was only stuff, no one was hurt, and we still have many blessings to share this season, even if the little girls won’t have their new dolls, warm clothes, and Beth won’t get her new bedding. The truly valuable items, the golf clubs that were passed down from Deborah’s mom, were ignored by the thieves, and a couple of presents were dropped in the street and were retrieved so all isn’t a total loss. There was really nothing among their ill-gotten gains that had much value to the thieves except, perhaps, the stereo speakers and that may garner them as much as a couple of hours of intoxication.

I spent the day alternately on the couch and in my bed, really too tired to move. It reminded me a lot of the old chemo days. David was ill with a cold so we were in parallel stupors, moving through the day. He was tired but was able to help me out, water plants, carry the Ancient Beast out to pee, and, God bless him, make dinner for us both. We ate it in front of the television, something we never do, and watched the George C. Scott version of a Christmas Carol, which turned out to be the absolute best version that I have ever seen. It’s quite a refutation of George Bush’s version of America, his words deliniating the conservative Republican philosophy. The writing, straight from Dicken’s book, is astonishingly powerful when handled by the talents of such a great actor. It was a nice way to end a day that started so inauspiciously with such a thoughtless and mean-spirited act.

Contentment

My heavens, it’s been nearly a month since I wrote. That’s what working will do to one. It turns out that I love my job. It’s been a little stressful, of course, because there is so much to learn. It’s been a while since I’ve worked in treatment and I have to get used to the way that they do it at DePaul. But the people are great; I love the team that I work with. I’m enjoying the clients as well.

I’ve been riding my bicycle to work every day, but I’m reconsidering that. I come home so exhausted that I can barely move. Last week I had a doctor’s appointment so I had to drive to work so I could go to the appointment in the middle of the day. Despite the frustrations of driving and having to park downtown, I felt a lot more energetic when I got home. And today the weather was so awful (we’re in the midst of a huge wind and rain storm) that I took the bus to work and back. I feel pretty lively. I believe I’ve been pushing myself too hard and I’m going to have to not ride for a while.

Now that I think of it, that would be happening anyway. I’m going in for my final surgery tomorrow. This will be the icing on the cake, the construction of the nipple. I’m hoping that the anesthetic won’t affect me horribly as it has at times in the past. I hope to get Dr. Aziz, who was the anesthesiologist last time. He did a wonderful job and I felt fine within days instead of months. I have only one week off, so I hope I can clear the anesthetic out of my body quickly this time. I’ll have the skin for the nipple reconstruction taken from my inner thigh, so that might slow me down a bit as well, especially because I have to climb a lot of stairs at work. Still, I should be able manage.

In general, I feel a sublime contentment. There’s something about having suitable and engaging work that is incredibly uplifting. I sent out messages to the universe to attract this job to me and here it is. It’s what I asked for: “I find meaningful, interesting, and fun work for which I am well compensated and well appreciated with excellent benefits, a job that will find me at just the right time with wonderful people to work with for subervisors and colleagues.” I meditated upon that several times a week and lo, it came to pass.

I was struck today how last year at this time I was in the hospital with neutropenia, near death. This year I feel very healthy. I feel like I’ve been through hell and back and lived to tell the tale. I believe I’ve learned a lot along the way. I wouldn’t trade experience for anything, although it was really difficult to go through and probably aged me several years. Indeed, I’ve become a crone, a little old lady. I kind of like it. I’m more fragile physically than I used to be, but I’m certainly strong enough to do what I want to do. I need to be respectful of my energy and not take on too much. I have a rule: only one evening meeting a week at most. So far I’m sticking to it. I get to bed a 9 pm every night, lights out by 9:30 so I can wake up early to meditate and do yoga. It’s a good life.

Returning to Real Life

Deborah pointed out that I haven’t posted in weeks and that all that is really required is a paragraph. I got the job that I wrote about in the last posting. I went and taught a class there and had a great time doing it. There were 53 men in the class, so it was a much larger class than I had anticipated. However, I am enough of a ham to enjoy getting up in front of a bunch of people, especially since I was armed with a good curriculum. It was a lively session with lots of participation from the men. I got lots of good feedback afterwards.

I also sat in on a process group. It sort of ran itself. It was a small group, only four men, but I was impressed with the two that had been in treatment the longest. They obviously had learned a lot from the program. I was grateful to have had some grounding in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy since that is the basis of the program there.

Lots of people, staff and residents alike, said that they hoped that I would take the job. Once I got the formal offer, I took a day or two to really think it over, but the more that I thought it through, the more I realized that this was the right job for me. I called them last Thursday and let them know I’d take the job. The HR person said that what I needed to do next was to take a drug test in the next 24 hours. Piece of cake, I thought.

That afternoon I went in for a routine mammogram, only these days no mammogram is routine for me. After the first mammogram, they brought me back into the room for another series of mammograms, and then back again for more and it looked like the news wasn’t good. I’m not a radiologist, but even I could see that there was a problem on the mammogram. The radiologist wanted to do an ultrasound, but it was the end of the day and everyone was in the process of leaving, so she asked me to make an appointment for the next day. I went to the front desk and asked for an appointment but they had shut down their computers for the day. The receptionist gave me a number for “the scheduler” which I called. The scheduler said that the next appointment would be for the 13th of November, or 12 days hence. I was not happy at the prospect of waiting 12 days in fear of what might be another tumor percolating in my remaining breast. I put down the phone, went to the receptionist’s desk and in a steely voice said, “This is not acceptable. I need to be seen tomorrow. Please find a way to fit me in.” I probably looked dangerous, as if I were ready to dismantle the reception desk, because one of the doctors came out and said he would personally do the ultrasound and asked me when I could make it. I said first thing in the morning.

I decided not to fret all night and actually had a decent night’s sleep. I printed out the form for the drug test before I went to bed so that I could take it on my way back from the hospital. The ultrasound went well. The suspicious area turned out to be a cyst, which is a good thing, or at least nothing to worry about. They gave me a small glass of orange juice when I was done. I got in my car and drove over to get the UA for the drug test. However, I didn’t have the form with me for some reason, so I drove home. And I needed to take my vitamins since it was getting late. I had to get to a class, so I ran to the drug test place with a new form, peed in a cup and then ran to my class.

Monday I got a call that my drug test was invalid because it was too dilute. I had failed the drug test. It was pretty ridiculous, me, failing a drug test.

I had to go in for a new one in the next 24 hours. If this one was too dilute as well I wouldn’t get the job. Jeez Loueez. I spent the rest of the day not eating or drinking. By the time I had the next test, my pee was opaque.
It gave me a little more compassion for what my clients must go through with their drug tests, especially if a small glass of orange juice can through off the results like that. That was pretty ridiculous. At the time of the test I was asked if I had eaten anything with poppy seeds and I said no. The next morning I was making myself a piece of toast, as I had done the day before, with sprouted wheat seed bread. Hmm, seed bread. I looked at the ingredients and, sure enough, there were poppy seeds. I called the drug screen lab in a panic to let them know that I had eaten poppy seeds recently, the morning of the test. I mean, how sensitive are these tests? The person at the lab noted my poppy seed consumption in the chart.

Later in the day, when I was back at OHSU, but this time with Stephen who I drove to physical therapy, I got a call for HR. The drug screen was fine; could I start work on Monday? I was relieved. It would have been such a bummer to fail the drug test, especially since I don’t take drugs.

So, now I’m organizing my closets and drawers, trying to get myself ready to dive into a full time job. Actually, for the first month I will be working 32 hours per week. And I will have to take time off the first week of December for surgery. It’s the final piece of breast reconstruction, putting on the nipple. That will be my last surgery, so it will be a milestone for me.

I’m putting my life back together after one hell of a year. This time last year I was gearing for chemo. Now I feel like I'm done with cancer. It’s time to get on with my life.

Concerns About Returning to Work

I had a job interview yesterday and they liked me enough to invite me back to a second interview to meet the rest of the staff. This is getting starting to get serious. I like this place. It’s inpatient treatment, the clientele is the population I seem to gravitate towards, men with addictions, mental illness, and criminal histories, in other words, the not-cute.

I like the people who interviewed me. It seems like a decent place to work. The pay, well, is not so great. It’s less that I was getting before. However, it’s downtown, a great location. The benefit package is pretty decent, too. The big problem is that it is 40 hours per week and I don’t know if I’m up to that yet. I still tire more easily than I would like. I’m not up to running at full throttle yet.

I’ll keep pursuing this possibility, however. If the staff likes me enough, then I’ll teach a class there and then run a process group. That way, they’ll get a sense of what I’m like and I’ll get a sense of what they, their clients, and the facility are like. I could be back to work as soon as November 6th, which is an interesting coincidence because November 6th, 2006 was when I officially went on leave last year to start treatment for breast cancer. I didn’t start chemo until a couple of weeks after that because of a false positive of my remaining breast from an MRI. I was a basket case, not looking forward to chemo, with great justification. It turned out to be a lot more brutal than I could have imagined.

I haven’t worked full time since I went on leave and for good reason. It’s only in the last month or so that I have been able to get through a full day without a nap. And my brain is clearing up now. I can keep appointments straight again. I can think clearly, but again, that’s only in the past month that I’ve been able to do so. I’m wondering when to disclose my (temporary) disabilities. I’m sure that in one more month I’ll be in even better shape, but I’m worried that the first month may be a problem. On the other hand, I may not get the job, so such concerns are premature.

A Day in the Life

Yesterday I took a three and a half mile ride with David to Alberta Street for some Thai food and a leisurely walk to look at the arty shops there. I came home exhausted. It was a good reality check. I’ve been feeling great lately, but I haven’t been doing much physical activity. I used to ride 10-12 miles per day and now three and a half wipe me out. I suppose I should be gratefule that I can ride at all.

Today I walked three and a half miles in the glorious sunshine. It was so lovely, especially after eleven solid days of rain. I walked to the bank to get a form notarized and on the way back I discovered a wonder shop in my neighborhood called Up Your Alley at 4223A Fremont Street. Nicole Carlon is the proprietor. The shop is full of wonderful clothes, jewelry and home decorations. I bought a lot of very wonderful items, a quilt, earrings, jewelry, and a jacket. She has wonderful taste. Normally I absolute hate to shop but you wouldn’t have known it today. I had a lovely time.

I have been applying for jobs lately with no results, no interviews (except the one for the county, but I didn’t make the finals). Today I emailed in yet another cover letter and resume and within five minutes I got a call. I’ll go in for an interview tomorrow. I don’t know if this is my job. It’s full time and the pay isn’t great, but I liked the woman I talked to on the phone and in the last analysis, it’s the people that I work with that is most important factor in whether or not I like the job. It’s how I spend the minutes and hours of my life and who I spend it with that matters most to me. So I’ll check it out. At least I got an interview and that’s something to be grateful for. And the agency is within bicycling distance. That is a huge plus in my book.

Meanwhile, there’s lots going on in my life. One of the women I met on the retreat had a mastectomy last week and got her lab report back today to find that 27 out of 27 lymph nodes were positive. I was devastated to hear that. She’ll be doing radiation and has already gone through chemo.

My friend Chelle will be going in for her fourth surgery soon. Her cancer isn’t very advanced, but they haven’t got the margins yet. I don’t know what’s going on with this disease. It’s so rampant.

I have a mammogram scheduled for next Monday. It’s routine, but I’m nervous about it all the same. Howard will accompany me, which is good. I don’t want to face this alone. It’s been such a rough year and I’m not ready for any bad news just as I’m getting back on my feet again.

Meditation Deprivation

I hate not meditating in the morning. Meditating in the morning sort of like looking in the mirror and combing your first thing, only it’s combing your mind instead, making it behave before you get out of the starting box. Most mornings I wake up and just breathe deeply for ten minutes, trying to empty my mind, letting any intrusive thoughts drift away, like leaves that have fallen into a river. I allow myself to be breathed on the breath of God, as St. Theresa of Avila would have it, and to take in great breaths of energy and light. Next I wake up my chakras, get them glowing, spinning, online, moving energy up and down the spine from earth the crown, connecting with the divine, letting healing light shine through me, aligning me to my higher self and my higher purpose. All this is in an upright position, sitting zazen, or my approximation of it. Sometimes I throw some chanting in there that my sensei taught me years ago. Then I sit back on my pillows and get out my healing notebook, leafing through the several sections labeled Attunement, Affirmations, Gratitude, Goals, and Listening. It helps program me for the day. I’ve written a page or two for each section and it takes me about 10 minutes each time I do it. With the breathing, the chakra visualization, and the notebook, it takes me about 30-40 minutes.

Today I awoke at 4:30 am, way too early, so after getting up to pee and to take the meds and supplements that want to be taken without food, I went back to bed and tried to go back to sleep. I thought all of the sleepy thoughts I could think of but far more interesting thoughts kept popping through even though my body was still in hibernation mode. I finally gave up, turned on the light, and started reading. I’m currently reading Anne Lamott’s latest book on faith, in large print, which is good, because when I wake up in the middle of the night (and when it’s still dark out and before 5:30 am I refuse to consider it early morning) I can’t focus my eyes particularly well. I love her essays on faith, on being so terribly imperfect, like the rest of us; I can identify. Except that I’m not so brutally honest.

I don’t dwell on my imperfections. When Yom Kippur comes around and I’m at services and listening to the whole litany of transgressions so we can stand and atone, I always listen to them and think, I haven’t been so bad. Most of these don’t apply to me. I really tried my best under the circumstances. And then, the next part of the service says (to paraphrase) “and for those of you who don’t think this applies to you, you guys are the worst of all.” Yeah, well…um, busted. Yom Kippur is not my favorite holiday, and it’s not just because of the fasting all day, because that’s not my style either. It’s that I’m lousy at apologies. I tend to sound like an early Steve Martin routine, “Well, ex-cuuuuuse meee!” when I try to apologize. I sound like a member of the Bush administration or one of their supporters when I try to apologize. I suck at it. I know that atonement is at-one-ment, becoming one with All That Is, and my ability to apologize and atone is definitely a barrier to my ascension to the divine. Quel dommage. Tante pis. Yep, I’ve got a bad attitude. That’s why I need to meditate. That’s one of the many reasons I need to meditate.

So finally, I fell asleep at 6: 30 or so and slept in until 8:15 when it was time to launch into what I now consider a busy day, at least for someone who no longer works 40 hours a week. No time for meditation, but at least I’m well rested, at there’s a lot to be said for that. No time for yoga, but while I wait for Stephen when he’s at physical therapy at OHSU (I’m his chauffeur) I’m able to type on my computer, which I haven’t had time for in ages. Next stop today is Good Sam where I need to drop off a couple of post-mastectomy vests for a friend who just had a mastectomy, then it’s a quick lunch, and an appointment with my oncologist. And still no time to meditate, let alone get some yoga practice in.

On the plus side, it’s all about being well again, which means that I can be of service to friends that are currently Going Through It. As eager as I am to get back to work again, I’m grateful for the opportunity to be available right now.

Traveling by Car, Bike, and Train

It’s been a while since I wrote and it will be a while until I get another opportunity. I went down to Cottage Grove again to see Anita and Mike last week. It was wonderful to stay in their yurt, such a magnificent space. Visiting with Anita was a special treat. It was so good to touch base with her.

I went down to get my bicycle freed from its electric motor. I bought an off-the-rack Bike Friday and had them un-convert my old bike and put the motor on the new bike. I drove down to Cottage Grove, spent the night there, then went to Eugene to have the motor switched. It was a lesson in respecting my limitations. I thought I was doing so well, but all that driving (three hours each way) was exhausting. I’m still not nearly as robust as I used to be, although my energy level is improving. However, the trip proved to be a bit much for me and I caught a cold. I spent several days down for the count. It reminded me just how tedious it is to lack energy.

By Sunday I was back on my feet again, and more to the point, back on a non-electric bicycle. It was really fun to actually pedal again. I like having the electric one as a back-up. I mean, it’s nice not to have to take the Queen Mary out (my Camry) when a little motorboat with an outboard motor (my electric bicycle) will do. I’m trying to keep to riding four miles or less for now on the regular bicycle and reserving the ebike for longer or more hilly trips until I’m really back to being a maniac. Of course, the rains are here, the weather is unseasonably chilly, so actually pedaling is going to keep me much warmer and happier. And I can’t imagine that it’s all that great for the motor to get it drenched constantly.

So, I’m off to Seattle tomorrow by train to visit Carol who is here visiting from England. She is holding court in Seattle so I must go up there. I’ll stay with Chelle in Bainbridge and commute to Carol by ferry. I wish I could take one of my bicycles with me, but the Talgo trains aren’t running at present so it’s not possible to take anything more than carry-on luggage.

No more news on the job front. I keep applying for jobs and not even getting an interview. I keep telling myself it’s because the right job hasn’t shown up yet. It’s discouraging, though.

Rainy Saturday

The rains have come with a vengeance. Tasche finished our sukkah, but it has been too wet to eat out there and it promises to be wet all week. The temperature is 57 degrees. The rains are a couple of weeks early in arriving this year. I’m not surprised since it was a cool summer.

I’ve started a new writing class which is put on by the Write Around Portland folks, hosted by the Quest Integrative Center. It’s an interesting mix of people in the class. I really like the work that is coming out of it. It’s quite inspirational to be in a group, churning out stuff, finding out where it will lead. I wrote this piece:

I Can’t Explain

I can’t explain what happened that day. I just know that in an instant everything changed; all of the sudden I went through the bottle neck, released somehow into a new understanding.

It was a moment I didn’t know I’d been waiting for, and I had no idea it would take this form. I hadn’t expected it, but I then again I had, only not on a conscious level. I’m just not that perceptive.

Oh, and I try to be so perceptive, so damned perceptive. I ask for it every day, “Just allow me a little more perception, some intuition, please. I know you’re up the, giving me all this great guidance, but I’m so tired of being deaf and blind to it. Allow me to open like a flower to your rays of light.”

Well, someone up there must have heard and took pity on me because one day it happened. I was walking down the stairs and I didn’t touch the last step; instead, I floated above it. I floated forward effortlessly. “Whoa, I’m levitating!” I though excitedly and immediately dropped to the floor. Hmm.

But it kept happening, usually when I least expected it and always when I was alone. When I wasn’t paying attention, when I wasn’t trying to make it happen, I would float off the ground a few inches, and sometimes as much as a few feet. As soon as I realized I was floating then whomp! I fell back to earth. One time I was crossing a parking lot and I floated up about eight feet in the air. “Oh, wow!” I thought, “This is so cool!” and I immediately plummeted. It was a pretty hard landing and I sprained my ankle. I hobbled around on crutches for days. When people asked me how I injured myself I made up a story because the real story was, well, improbable to say the least.

After a while, though, I began to get a handle on it. I could sustain the float longer, rise higher, and I learned to descend slowly. I found that strong emotions, surprise, pride, or alarm, for instance, caused me to drop precipitously. I learned that if I breathed evenly and kept my mind empty I had more control. I could even move forward and direct myself where I wanted to go.

Then one day I was walking with my husband and began to float up while he watched in astonishment. I looked at him and grinned and gently drifted to the ground. I knew that I had made some sort of breakthrough. Another person had witnessed me levitating.

But of course, it was another bottleneck. Suddenly my pride, my egotism was lit on fire because someone else knew, even if it was only my husband and best friend. I wanted him to be my witness, to brag to our friends about my new ability and I knew that this would spoil my fledgling attempts at control and mastery of my new found ability. How could I overcome this new challenge?

Bicycle Disasters

We’ve been having some major bicycle disasters. First David crashed into a car door as it opened before him at an inopportune time. He got scraped up and twisted out of shape but didn’t break anything. After a few visits to the osteopath he’s achy but doing better. His bicycle fared a bit worse than he and was in the shop for a while, but it’s back now and more to the point, he’s back on it again, riding to work and back.

Howard started the week full of enthusiasm. He signed up for a graduate class in limnology and arranged to audit an Italian class. He rode his bike to the first day of school, attended his classes, and then mounted his steed to ride home. Crossing the street from Neuberger Hall, where he had his classes, he was struck by a car while on his bicycle. The driver was turning left onto Broadway looking right over his shoulder at oncoming traffic and not where he was aiming his car. He hit Howard and bicycle. Howard rode the hood for a while with the car still in motion, then he slid over the left side of the car (taking the side mirror with him) and came to rest on the ground. At that point the car ran over his left foot.

He spent many hours in the emergency room, Andrine by his side. The upshot is that his left second metatarsal is broken. His foot is so swollen that he can’t have surgery to pin it together until next week. He’s pretty frustrated about the whole thing. He tried to attend classes on Wednesday in a wheelchair only to discover that it’s not an option. It was exhausting and frustrating and even dangerous to try to maneuver around campus in a wheel chair with an unset broken foot stretch out in front among oblivious twenty year olds. They wouldn’t even take the next elevator so that he could ride it. He had to wait for several because they didn’t have the concept that the elevators were for disabled people not for healthy but lazy young people.

Meanwhile, I’ve been thrust into caregiver mode again, only not with Howard. Andrine has taken over that position. I’ve been looking after Stephen, our housemate, who just had knee replacement surgery. He came home from the nursing home on Monday, the same day that Howard broke his foot. Now we have two members of the household in wheelchairs. I’ve been cooking and shopping for food to keep the household fed. Andrine hired Petra to clean so the house isn’t falling apart while we are tending to the wounded. Andrine, bless her heart, is cooking tonight.

My energy has been great, however. I recovered from the surgery in record time. The anesthetic didn’t linger as I had feared, and I actually feel like myself again. It had taken a whole year, and I thought that I might never see the day again, but I feel healthy and energetic again. Good thing, because it’s time to spring into action. I must admit, I prefer to be the caregiver instead of the care recipient. Although, don’t get me wrong, I greatly appreciate everyone who did care for me. It was an amazing year that way, to realize how kind my friends and family are. But I can really appreciate now how wonderful it is to have the energy to contribute to the well being of others. I now can run up and down the stairs with little thought, instead of contemplating it for hours because one trip up or down could use up my energy for hours.

I don’t know if I’m back to 100% yet, but it’s damned close, damned close.

Surgery Went Well

I had my surgery today and it went well, better than expected (by me). I had been pretty apprehensive about getting general anesthetic again, but my anesthesiologist (Dr. Mike Aziz) listened carefully to my needs and as a result I felt better than I usually do when I wake up after surgery. I’m home now and my pain level remains pretty low, about a 2 on a scale of 10.

The week running up to surgery was a very full one. My energy came back and I felt like a reasonable facsimile of my old self. I was able to do several things in one day, run errands, do laundry, that sort of thing. It felt great. I felt like I sprang back to life again during my week in Cottage Grove with Anita. It was very healing for me, being out there in the country, being taken care of by her and her husband Mike. She also got me into doing yoga again. I’ve been doing it every morning, along with deep breathing, and that really helped to revive me.

I’m still a little dizzy, but it’s been only five hours since I was in the OR, so that’s to be expected. However, given how I feel now, I don’t think this will be a month-long ordeal like my previous recoveries from general anesthetic.

I’ve felt so good lately that I have been applying for jobs, although they’ve been part-time jobs. I haven’t got any interviews yet. The only interview that I got was for a Corrections Counselor at the jail, but that’s a full time job. I have no idea how I did at the interview. I may not be corrections material. I don’t have a confrontational style of counseling. It’s a great paying job with wonderful benefits, but if I make it to the second round of interviews, I will have to do an informational interview to find out if it’s the sort of job I want to take. I have been so lucky to have great colleagues and supervisors and work situations in the past that I do not want to break a winning streak. Also 40 hours a week sounds like a lot right now, new found energy or not.

Catching Up: Cottage Grove to Rosh Hashanah

I realize that I haven’t written in a very long time. The first week of the month I went to Cottage Grove to visit my new friend, Anita. I met her at a cancer retreat and we hit it off immediately. She came up to visit a few weeks ago and we all immediately liked her. She, in turn, had a great time at our house. It reminded her of a big old house she had owned in Brookline, Massachusetts, which she had kept full of people. She was delighted to find all sorts of Judaica in our house since she is Jewish.

I had a wonderful time visiting her. She has a guest yurt that is a beautiful space, set in a garden, with a hot tub next it. Could I ask for anything more? The views from her property were exquisite. It was harvest time and we spent most of our time harvesting or cooking the bounty.

She and her husband Mike were so kind and delightful to hang out with. It was a very restorative time for me. I came home feeling much more energetic than when I left. Anita and I did yoga in the morning and I’ve been continuing that practice. I had given up and exercise program for a while due to the fact that my energy was so limited that I needed to spend it on survival tasks, like laundry and cooking. However, my energy coffers are now filled enough that I can do yoga in the morning and still have enough energy left over for other tasks.

Anita taught me the value of the nap. Of course, she’s good at sleeping, whereas I am not. Still, I took a rest for an hour every day and that helped tremendously.

I felt like Anita was the older sister I never had. She and I had endless things to talk about and lots of recipes to share. She sent me home with all sorts of goodies from her garden. Howard came down to pick me up and helped press a load of pears into pear juice. He was rewarded with a bottle of it and it was unbelievably good. In addition, I got plum sauce and fig puree as well as some pickles for Tasche.

I came home and hit the ground running, which is why I haven’t written anything lately. I am acting as Stephen’s patient advocate for his knee surgery. On Monday I accompanied him to pre-op appointments. I had my EFT group Monday night. Then on Tuesday Stephen had his knee replacement surgery so I hung around the hospital all day until he was safely through it and ensconced in his hospital room.

On Wednesday it was my turn for pre-op. I’m finally going to get this very painful expander out and replaced by an implant. I went to see my surgeon to discuss what I wanted. We decided on a silicone implant, which is what most people who have had the procedure recommend. Earlier we had discussed the fact that I could have the procedure done with a local anesthetic so I didn’t discuss that with her again. However, when I went to pre-op, the anesthesiologist thought that I was crazy not to have general anesthesia. Now I don’t know what to think. I do so poorly with general anesthesia. It scrambles my brains for weeks afterwards. I’m just not ready to be that impaired.

I have been applying for more jobs lately and if I actually get one, I don’t want to be cognitively impaired from general anesthetic. It has felt so nice to have my memory working again and to have increased energy lately that I’m loathe to compromise that.
I went to Fred Meyer’s the other day with Stephen so he could lay in some clothing supplies before surgery. I happened to remember that I had a coupon for three free cloth grocery bags. I got the bags and brought them home. David, Howard, and Andrine were so impressed at my cognitive abilities to remember to get the bags and use the coupon that it gave me a reality check about how spacey I have been lately.

Today was the first day of Rosh Hashanah. We went to services last night and today. It was great to be back with the congregation and see so many familiar faces. I rode my electric bicycle there and back. It was pretty cold. That’s one of the drawbacks to electric bicycles. One doesn’t work up a sweat. This afternoon as I rode the temperature kept dropping, from 68 to 64 degrees. I guess our hot spell was short-lived.

I would post some photos from my trip but I can’t locate my camera cord. Hopefully it will turn up soon.

Roberta and Dawn Meet

Roberta and Dawn meet for the first time

Deborah tells me that it is time to post a new photograph; the last was a bit gruesome, although it documents the current dominant feature of my life. I had a new fill on Monday, the last one, thankfully. Each is more uncomfortable than the last and it makes sleeping almost impossible.

My friend Dawn came to visit on Wednesday. I have been trying to lure her back to Portland for years. I believe that Dawn, Roberta, and Akhri and I are destined to work together. It was fairly late (for me) when I called Roberta that night, but she came over and met Dawn and they hit it off right away. The room was positively electric with energy. Dawn wants to stay in England for another year to pick up another Master's degree. Then she's hoping to go into a PhD program at PSU. Roberta has big plans for bringing treatment programs to Clackamas County. She good at networking, brainstorming, and firing people up. She's a whirlwind of energy, but can use someone to help her direct it. She goes off in about ten different directions at once.

I’ve decided to curtail the job search for a while. I have been sending out resumes with typos on them, containing the wrong email address and a typo in my home address. It proved to me that I’m cognitively not yet up to the task. I think my unconscious is protecting me from myself. And I have another surgery coming up soon. It’s kicked off a moral dilemma for me. I’m supposed to be looking for work if I’m receiving unemployment. I know other people receive unemployment when they have no intention of looking for work. However, I’m not able to do that. I guess I will have to bite the bullet and refuse those checks for a while until I am able to look for work again. I’m not happy about that, but I’m not very good a being dishonest, either. My EFT group helped me sort out this problem last night. It’s not like it will be that long until I get back on my feet again. The next surgery will be an outpatient sort. I know that’s still somewhat debilitating, but not nearly as difficult as the last one.

As I get better, I realize how out of it I have been. My energy is improving to the point that I can do limited housework and that makes my world a little more pleasant. Today I ran an errand; I drove to Powell’s Books on Hawthorne by myself. Up until now I’ve only gone out on very short errands, within one mile of my house. Or I’ve gone to doctor’s appointments, or to my therapist, only doing what was absolutely necessary. I’ve had to protect my energy reserves very carefully. However, this was an extraneous errand, one I did just for the fun of it because there was a used book there I’ve been wanting for a while. It was not essential to the continuance of my existence. After that, I bought some office supplies at Fred Meyer’s then I took myself to lunch. This was a small milestone, but one of significance to me.

I’ve been able to set little goals for myself each day, like light housekeeping chores. Chira and I took a walk this morning at 5 am since we were both awake after very little sleep. It was about two miles. I slowed down considerably by the end because my saline filled expander started to hurt a lot, but at least my legs were up to the task. It did give mea reality check, though, about how much exercise I need at present, which is not a lot. Less is more.

Rising Optimism, Inflated Expander

I was crabby and whiny last week, peeved that my recovery from surgery and chemo isn’t speeding along the way that I would like. My disciplines were falling apart. I wasn’t meditating, I wasn’t exercising. I was a mess.

Well, I’m still a mess, I’m still not meditating, I’m still not exercising, but I feel a rising optimism. Suddenly, I don’t give a damn that I don’t have a job, that I am not doing what I’m supposed to in terms of my discipline. In a very significant way, I’m doing just what I need to do.

What accounts for this change of mind? I’m sure a lot has to do with the fact that my homeopath gave me a new remedy last week. I managed to reorganize my office (with Petra’s help) which also improved my outlook. I had a very nice weekend with lots of visitors. And the weather is cool and rainy, which tends to cheer me up. Don’t ask me why.

I went out on my ebike today to pick up some Coconut Bliss ice cream (a fabulous vegan treat). It was drizzling and I rode through the rain; it felt so good. I suppose I was made for the Pacific Northwest. I actually like the rain. It is cleansing and invigorating. I find endless sunshine and heat oppressive after a while.

Earlier today I had my appointment to get the penultimate fill for my expander. The doctor announced that I was 490 ml and had 160 more to go. I was adamant that I was at 510 and had 90 more to go. She was insistent and decided to show me the medical records, taking a rather patronizing tone. It turned out that I was right. She said, yes she had made an error in math. Howard pointed out that she had made an error in arithmetic. As a patient, it behooves one to keep track of these things. It’s painful enough expanding it this far. To expand it further than necessary would be really painful and time consuming.

I had another 50 ml of saline added today. The photo shows how peculiar it looks. The expander is huge and placed really high. This is the way that they always do it. And one can see the Frankenstein breast on the left, after the reduction. It’s hard to imagine cramming 40 more ml of saline in there, but that’s what’s happening next week. We scheduled surgery for the implant for the 18th of September.

It’s getting to the point that I need to take pain medication. I was able to go through the mastectomy without using them, but this process is much more painful, especially at night. As long as I’m sitting up, I do fine. Lying down is a different matter. I barely slept last night. I really hate pain meds because they make me feel groggy and I get constipated. However, those side effects are beginning to seem minor at this point. I took 5 mg of oxycodone with a cup of green tea this afternoon and that was a good combination, although not one that will work after 4 pm, I would imagine.

We Are Going to Pump You Up

Yesterday I went to the doctor, as I do most Mondays, to get Pumped Up. I have an expander that is meant to expand the skin where my breast implant is to go. I was getting 70 ml of saline injected in each time until two weeks ago when the usual injection caused my mastectomy scar to pop open in one spot. Also, I suddenly had a lot of stretch marks.

I went to the doctor to have her check out the new hole in the scar. She gave me a prescription for a topical and an oral antibiotic and sent me on my way. I decided to skip the next appointment to let things calm down a bit. Of course, this was during the time that I was feeling down, and an effect of that was going on a pill strike. I just couldn’t deal with taking my vitamins much less prescriptions, so I didn’t.

On this last visit I informed the doctor that I hadn't filled the prescriptions and she was a bit alarmed. She said it was common for the body to reject the expander and that there were signs of redness. Also the hole in the scar wasn’t healing well so it was time to bite the bullet and actually take care of it. She gave me new prescriptions and I promised to fill them and follow directions. Then I had another injection, this time of 50 ml.

In the past several weeks she has asked me at each visit if I had enough pain pills. I was a little puzzled by the question. Although the fills were a little painful, especially at night, I rejected the idea of taking pain pills on general principles. I’m just not into taking drugs, prescription or otherwise.

I changed my tune last night. Ouch. It was a bad night. I was up for hours. We’re getting to the point where this is no longer easy. The expander has to be expanded to be larger than the remaining breast, but it’s already a lot larger and I have 90 ml more to go (or two more sessions.) The expander is now huge and hard and the skin is stretched impossibly tight. I ended up taking one pain pill but that didn’t help much. After an hour or so I took another. Finally I got some sleep. I’m starting to wonder how I’m going to get through this next phase.

So cancer is the gift that keeps on giving. I’m ready to have this episode over and done with but there’s still more to slog through. I remembered that a woman in my support group had an infection from her expander so I'm going to be careful and take all my antibiotics, as much as I dislike them.

A Visit with to Port Townsend

On Saturday, Howard and I drove to Port Townsend to see Ande who was in the midst of packing boxes, trying to get her life down to the few possessions that could fit into her car for the cross-country trip she was about to embark upon.

Ande and her daughter Aster lived with us for many years when our children were young. She and I co-parented together. Aster was two years older than Gavi and two years younger than Jasper, right in the middle. Those were very lovely years that I remember with great fondness.

Aster is now living in Washington D.C. working at some really well-paid job that’s fairly boring. She took her LSATs last spring and did spectacularly well and is now looking for a law program. My boys, well, one is in a rock and roll band and one is an actor.

We reminisced a lot about when the kids were little, the times we had at the Blaine Street house in Port Townsend. It was so good to sit and talk to her.

Ande is also a cancer survivor, breast cancer and lymphoma. The breast cancer was a minor episode, but the lymphoma was not. She was very proactive about her care and found a doctor that she could work with, one that was primarily a researcher. She and I both have fairly low opinions of doctors as scientists. Doctors seem to want to adhere to orthodoxy. They do not make the distinction between longitudinal studies and randomized trials when looking at research.

The type chemo she did worked on the mitochondria, just the stuff that I’m interested in (see the links on side bar). Of course, these are not fancy new drugs. They’ve been around for years so drug companies can’t make a lot of money from them.

On Saturday night Howard and I went to see Joey Pipia’s show. He has a little theatre in the industrial section of Port Townsend where he does little shows. This was a close-up magic show. Eben and Paul Black happened to show up that night as well. It is a 30 seat house, very intimate. He does a very nice show. I had a lovely time.

After the show we went back to his house and had pie and tarts and champagne with his family and Eben and Paul. It was great to see Jenny and Sophie and Phina again. They have such a lovely little house there.

The next day was Sunday and Ande had to cook a large pot of beans to serve at the fire department’s booth at the county fair so she was continually popping in and out in between stirring the beans and taking them out of the oven and such chores as that. We had breakfast at the Salal Cafe and she popped in there for a while then went back to her beans. Howard and I walked downtown and peeked in a few stores. We drove by the old Blaine Street house which seemed to have been “remuddled” a bit. We finally left in the afternoon for the long drive home after visiting the co-op for lunch.

At some point during the weekend we realized that we really hadn’t left anything behind in Port Townsend. Yet another of my ties to it has been broken now that Ande is moving away. We decided that we missed the salt water. I love the smell of it in the air. But Port Townsend is no longer my town. It was cold and overcast and uninviting. It was good to get back to Portland, to the warm weather and our lovely house teeming with our beloved friends and family. Our life on Blaine Street was a fine life while it lasted but I’m happy to be where I am now.

Visiting Chelle

I took a trip with Howard this weekend. It was a rare event for us to spend so much time together. Usually if we go on a trip, he goes with Andrine and I go with David. I wanted to visit Chelle in Bainbridge to catch up with her and then go to Port Townsend to say goodbye to Ande Grahn who is just about to leave to go to graduate school in Massachusetts.

So the first stop was at Chelle’s house in Bainbridge. Chelle and I have been close friends for years and years. Our children are roughly the same ages. Chelle was recently diagnosed with breast cancer so we’ve had a lot to talk about. Fortunately, hers was stage one, grade 2, so she had a lumpectomy and will soon have radiation. She can skip the chemo part, thank goodness. Her tumor was HER2-NEU positive, which means she’ll be getting herceptin for a year after the radiation. Her prognosis is excellent. But it’s so odd that we were diagnosed within a year of each other.

Anyway, I hadn’t been up so see her in a while and every so often I need a dose of Chelle. She’s just a delight to hang out with. She and Hank (her husband) live on several acres which she has turned into a paradise. She’s an amazing gardener. We sat on her patio sipping cool drinks and watching the goings on in the lush landscape. You wouldn’t know that the bee population was severely threatened when sitting in her garden. She had all sorts of flowering plants that they were happily visiting. We saw all sorts of birds there: towhees, junkos, chickadees, wrens, just to name a few.

I was tired from the drive and went to bed fairly early, but Howard stayed up talking to Chelle’s two boys, Luke and James. Howard had a great time with them. Luke showed him plans for the house that he is remodeling. He’s using all the money he makes from that job to pay off his boat, a Boston whaler. He got some tiger wood to replace the mahogany on it. Howard was very impressed how Luke had become another Hank. He’s into making things, manipulating physical reality. He brings home fish and crab that he caught.

Howard and I had a lot of time to reflect how our kids are becoming us. Jasper is an actor, Gavi is a musician, each elaborating on the different aspects of Howard’s talents and proclivities. Jasper seems to be coming into his own. He assembled a great production team for the fair. The show was a triumph and now he’s got the confidence to put on his own shows. He’s was just about to run off to a meeting with the members of his new production company when I talked to him last.

Gavi’s band has been recording for the past several days in our family room. Their band had a real bonding experience while on Chautauqua and are much more solid as a consequence. They have about six new songs to record before Yuri goes back to Bellingham. They each have one more year at college to complete. Ben (the drummer) is living in our basement and Shawn (the bass player) lives quite close. It’s such a pleasure watching them on stage. We saw them at a bar the other night. The sound was very muddy, which was a problem, one that Yuri said they had straightened out by the next gig. But of course, I love watching Gavi on stage. He looks so relaxed and natural. He’s got a great voice, too. I love the people that our children are becoming.

This process of growing older is so interesting. Here we are, older and a little wiser. I've heard that people on their death bed don't express regrets that they didn't spend more time at the office. However, I wonder if that will be one of my regrets. Maybe I should have spent more time at the office. It doesn't appeal to me at present, though.

Oh, No! I Forgot to Trust in the Universe!

It’s been a rough week for me. I’m so tired of being tired. My mind is ready to move on to the next phase of my life and my body is not. I’m still in the healing phase and it’s pissing me off. I’ve been in a snit brought on by my wild impatience to be fully recovered.

I keep watching the job postings and feeling a sense of despair because I know that I’m in no shape to take on a 40 hour a week job. Even a part time job would be a bit much right now.

I went to an Ayruvedic practitioner last Friday. I rode my electric bicycle there, a distance of about seven miles. He said I had no business riding that far, even with the electric assistance. Instead the most I should be doing is walking for 20 minutes twice a day. He said I should meditate and breathe a lot. He says I’m still far too overtaxed from chemo and surgery. He’s absolutely right. However, that realization put me into a funk.

I went on strike this week. I stopped taking vitamins. I didn’t go for walks. I didn’t meditate. I didn’t do much of anything but sit around and mourn my losses. I’ve lost my health, my job, and my sense of myself of an effective person in the world. The point is, I’ve got a lot of grieving to do. And grieving takes time. It comes in waves. It doesn’t do any good to ignore it. I know this for a fact. And the healing process is going to take its own sweet time.

I talked to my therapist today, who was very helpful. Thank goodness for the reality check. She pointed out that when I was first diagnosed I didn’t really slow down. I kept working while my co-worker went through her chemotherapy and I took on her clients as well as my own. Then I had surgery, chemo, and then surgery again. Now I have the opportunity to process it all and what it means to me.

I talked to Lynn, a member of our now-dispersed support group and she’s going through a similar process. She finds herself beset by anger and grief these days. Now that we are done with the surgery, radiation (in her case), chemo (in my case), you’d think we’d be a little happier, but no, there’s still more emotion to wade through.

I survived the chemo, barely, and then once I was only slightly better I had reconstructive surgery which really pulled the rug out under my feet. I’m still trying to climb back on to that rug. In fact, I’m still trying to find the damned rug.

Meanwhile, on the up side, I’m making plans to visit friends. I’m going up to see my dear friend Chelle tomorrow and then it’s on to Port Townsend to see Ande before she goes off to graduate school in Massachusetts. Howard is going to go with me. For once we'll take a trip together. We rarely spend time together these days so this will be a good thing. I tend to isolate when I'm in a negative mood, but that's not very useful. He's very helpful and supportive if I give him the opportunity.

Also, in terms of being more positive. I’ve started playing the banjo again. I gave it up as I became weak with chemo, but now I'm strong enough to enjoy playing it. I’ll probably never be any good at it, but it does cheer me up. I’ll keep at it, though. It’s part of my plan for the afterlife. When I was a child I was told by a playmate that I could never get into heaven because I hadn’t been baptized. Instead, I could only go to the front porch of heaven. I figured that as long as I was going to spend eternity on the front porch of heaven, it made sense to learn to play the banjo.

I talked to my nephew Bruce last night about cancer. He survived testicular cancer and has been disease free for 18 years. He kept wanting to know what I’m learning from this. His lesson seemed to be to get focused, prioritize, and get moving. Mine seems to be the opposite, about slowing down, learning to trust in the universe, and learning not to push myself so dammed hard. It’s not a lesson I find easy to absorb.

As I go though all these trials and tribulations, mainly bourn out of my own impatience, I realize that my main problem one that my EFT group pinpointed at the last meeting: “Oh, no. I forgot to trust in the Universe!” Well, here’s to trusting in the universe a little more. I will find the right job at just the right time. I’ll keep looking and trusting that I will recognize it when it appears. After all, I recognized the last one when the time was right. It’s not the time for it to appear and therefore it isn’t showing up. And that, as my hero Stuart Smalley would say, is okay. Everything is unfolding as it is supposed to. I just have to get on board with the Plan (not my plan, but the Master Plan). As my mother used to say, long before John Lennon did, life is what happens to you when you're making other plans.

Lazy Days of Summer

Linda and William at Cow Creek

It’s been a while since I blogged. Linda Grace was here last week and we went down to Myrtle Creek to visit our friends, Deborah and William. We spent a couple of days floating on the river, which was a perfectly idyllic way to pass the time. I could use more river adventures.

My family is still on Chautauqua. Diane has been keeping a Chautauqua Journal with lots of photos. I wish I could be there but it just isn’t possible right now. I would fall apart in the heat.

I’m feeling better, but still don’t have a lot of energy. I keep wondering if it’s that I’m horribly lazy. I’m not accomplishing much. But healing takes energy and I’m still healing.

I’m contemplating my next big project. Roberta wants to start a treatment facility in Clackamas county for veterans returning from Iraq who have substance abuse issues and PTSD. More that that, she wants me to head a task force in Clackamas to put in place a continuum of care for the whole county, youths to adult. It all sounds pretty exhausting but I suppose we can start to meet with people to explore this idea. I’m starting to talk to people, and set up meetings in spite of myself. I’d really like to get my friend Dawn on board, but she’s in England now. I talked to her today and she was intrigued, but she’s also going to start working on a second masters degree in Manchester.

My main accomplishment has been to covert my bicycle into an electric bike. The story of that saga can be found at my ebike blog. I’ve been having fun with it. It really is great at going up hills and that’s what I need at this point. At the same time, I can pedal it, which extends the range of the battery and gives me some exercise. I miss the light-weight bicycle it used to be, but I’m enjoying the fact that I can ride so much further.

Recap of the Week

Heres another photo by Stephan, this time of Jasper and the youngest Stage Left kids. Tiny Napolean is standing next to Jasper and Tiny Stalin is at far left. Jasper did a masterful job of rehearsing them and they were so cute. It was a great way to start out the show.

A whole week has passed somehow. The reviews of the Stage Left show were great. Jasper is very pleased and inspired to go on Chautauqua now. Ah yes, that’s what kept me busy and why I haven’t been writing to the blog. After the fair, we had houseguests, Mark Ettinger and Nancy Levidow. The were both here for a couple of days and since I so rarely get to see either of them, I spent vast swaths of time socializing with them and it was quite satisfying. That took up Monday and Tuesday. Then Diane flew in and the next day was taken up with Howard, Diane and Andrine preparing to leave on Chautauqua.

The weather has been quirky this week, cool and rainy, quite a surprise for July, not that I’m complaining. I much prefer this to the 100+ degree weather earlier in the month. I begin to feel mentally ill when it’s that hot. Howard, Andrine, and Diane had to pack the car in the pouring rain. And then they drove to Spokane and ended up camping in the pouring rain. They used my Enormous Tent and it kept them surprisingly dry. I wasn’t quite sure how it would hold up, but was pleased to hear that it did well.

David flew out on Thursday in time for the show in Spokane. He will be on the whole tour. I’m a little wistful that I’m not going, but it sounds a lot more grueling that I can handle at present.

My health continues to improve. I’m no longer feeling fragile. My energy is not up to par yet, but I was able to participate in cleaning up the kitchen after cooking a meal last night, which is a milestone. One wouldn’t think that participating in cleaning up the kitchen was such a thrill, but it means a lot to be able to be useful. The house is still in disarray, but I figure I’ll get around to it slowly but surely and with half of our house population away on Chautauqua (and the messier half at that) it will continue to improve around here.

I spent the last two days at a workshop on Co-Occurring Disorders, which was a bit basic, but interesting enough. I’m applying for jobs here and there and I thought it would be a good idea to get a refresher course since I haven’t been dealing with mental health patients for a couple of years. The class was fun and engaging and got me enthused again. I’m thinking of taking an on-call position at an agency I’m interested in to see if it’s a good fit. If I like it, I can take a full time job there, assuming that they like me. If not, well, nothing lost. And I can work as my health permits instead of jumping into something full time.

Recap of the Fair on Saturday

Photo by Stefan Freelan

I spent the weekend at the Oregon Country Fair. I drove down with Brad and Nadine and Sylvia on Friday night. We got caught in very awful traffic and stopped for an indifferent meal (much to Nadine’s chagrin because the beloved taqueria in Woodburn had evidently changed hands to a much less competent crew). After many trials and tribulations, we finally made it to Eugene to stay at a condo of a friend of Lucy’s. We even managed to see Lucy briefly.

After a solid night’s rest, we made our way to the fair. Of course, my pass wasn’t there. This year Mark had made it possible for me to go with a pass from Du Caniveaux, but the people at the gate had given my pass to a teen so only the teen pass was left in the envelope and, well, there’s no one on God’s green earth who will mistake me for a teen. However, I hung out for a while at the entertainment booth while several phone calls were made and eventually a pass appeared.

Then I walked to the Craft’s Lot and wended my way to the back of Stage Left and slipped through the gate. And there it was, the fair as I know it, a bunch of tents and folding chairs and people in strange and colorful costumes, and lots of familiar faces.

I’m allotted a small amount of energy each day and I had already used it up getting to the fair, negotiating the pass, and walking to our camp, but I had expected that. I got lots of hugs and everyone told me how marvelous I looked, which is always nice to hear, especially since I had such a rough year. At the last fair, I was only there for a day, reeling from the shock of diagnosis. This time, I was an old hand at medical indignities and setbacks and a damned sight more relaxed, just glad to have pulled through.

Andrine and Howard had set up the Enormous Tent for David before he got there. It’s something that I bought a couple of years ago for the Red Ukelele show to store myself and lots of props, instruments, and costumes. David now loves it because he can store his tuba and its case.

Joey Pipia kept walking by me without any acknowledgement until he finally asked me the time and suddenly realized that it was me in front of him. It was interesting to see people on the path who I knew well who looked right through me. Sometimes such anonymity was a blessing, though. There were a couple of people I didn’t need to talk to that would have accosted me if I still had long red hair.

Jasper wrote the show this year so of course I went to see it and it was great. He pulled it together at the last moment despite all our trepidations. Fortunately, he is quite talented so he can indulge in Last Minute Productions. And he had quite a few acts cancel at the last moment, so he had to back and fill quite a bit. However, the show was a hit. It was funny and well attended.

I stayed back in the Stage Left camping area for the most part that day, making a few forays for food. I went to the seafood both because Howard told me that Wendel was there. Wendel was a member of a juggling club that Gregg and I had many years ago in Port Townsend. Gavi and his daughter were toddlers then. Now they are about to graduate from college. Wendel gave me a plate of food, which Howard and I shared. Then we got some food for Jasper and wandered back to Stage Left. Jasper was pretty happy to get fed at that point. He was wired and tired from the responsibility of the show. I know the feeling having been in that position a few times myself. It was great to do the handoff to the next generation. Gavi wrote a lot of the music as well.

Gavi hadn’t slept in days. He spent his nights up at Du Caniveaux camp playing music. He was looking grubby, exhausted, and happy. It was nice to have my little family together again, although I don’t know if there was ever a moment when we all sat down together.

Jasper’s girlfriend Sarah seemed to fit right in. She danced in the show, she made costumes, and she had an apron with balloons from which she made erotic balloon sculptures. She looked pretty happy.

The glockenspiel sections was notably absent from the band. Jana played a tiny bit in the show, but didn’t march. Peggy blew out her knee before the fair so she didn’t march. And I was certainly in no position to play so I didn’t even bring my instrument. I felt sort of guilty being there without a job, the first time since Gavi’s birth that I haven’t worked, either by marching in the band or by producing a show.

I spent the afternoon show in the tent, not quite napping. The weather was very forgiving this year. Usually it’s pretty hot, especially in the afternoon, but this year clouds would blow in whenever it threatened to get uncomfortably hot and a breeze would whip up and it would be blessedly cool again. I kept thinking it was going to start raining, but it never did.

It’s Too Damn Hot

The high yesterday was 102 degrees at the airport (a record-breaking high for the date), and it was 98.6 here in our little micro-climate at Willow Cottage. I reacted by making huge pots of food, a vegan paella and a corn chowder, which made no sense as everyone is about to leave for the fair and there will be no one to eat leftovers. Everyone said it tasted just like paella; I realized that I had never had paella, since I’m allergic to seafood. It tasted okay to me. I suppose I’ll be eating it for a while. I’ll have to freeze it in small portions. It’s so hard to predict how much people will eat.

The house is in chaos, strewn with camping equipment. We have all sorts of unexpected, if welcome, guests. The Willow Cottage denizens, at least those who are going to the fair, spent the evening tromping around, looking for sleeping pads and tents. David and I made a run to the Joe’s last night to get beach chairs, flashlights, and batteries. I looked at sporting bras, which I desperately need, since I’m changing sizes constantly, but was too tired to try them on. I bought a couple last week and promptly lost one of them, so I’ve been living with just one bra, and it gets soaked with sweat in this heat. I need to sort through all my clothing and possessions and throw out most of them, but it’s too damn hot and I’m not up for any sort of physical labor anyway.

At about 9:30 last night my energy gave out entirely and I had to go to bed, but my office in the attic, where I usually sleep, was an inferno. David cleared a space on his bed and brought my fan down from the attic and pointed it at me. I finally fell into a sweaty sleep while everyone else in the house continued to dash to and fro stashing little items of clothing and equipment in their suitcases.

The central dramas in my life, though, are taking place off stage. Chelle gets her lumpectomy today. I talked to her yesterday as she sat in the ferry line with Hank on her way to the hospital for some preliminary procedure. She sounded pretty good when I talked to her, but she was on Valium at the time. However, today is the day of the real surgery. She’s probably in surgery as I’m writing this. Hank says he’ll call as soon as he hears anything.

My friend who’s on the psych ward is continuing to improve. She’s not so upset or angry and she’s got a great psychiatrist. She’s still somewhat manic. The night before last she was up all night making plans to start a healing retreat in New Mexico. She had also decided to write a bestseller about the medical system in America. I gently told her that she didn’t have to push the river and wear herself out at this point. It was all going to unfold as it was meant to unfold. She just needed to rest, meditate, and observe. She could relate to that. Now I hope she can just do that. I hope I can just do that, too: rest, meditate, and observe.

I talked to her daughter yesterday, who seems to be retaining her sense of humor. My friend was complaining yesterday about another patient on the ward who was in the midst of an intense manic episode and Would Not Shut Up. My friend’s husband and daughter were amused by her annoyance at the other patient’s non-stop rants and informed her that she was much worse when they brought her in. She was pretty stunned to hear that. But she’s slowing down enough to hear that, and to understand how her behavior has been affecting others. I just pray that she can get enough sleep to get grounded. A really dear friend of hers is flying in soon to help out. I had volunteered for the job, but I’m not a good candidate right now. I just don’t have the stamina. Dealing will people who are suffering from mania takes a lot of stamina. I should know.

However, every day and in every way I’m getting better and better. The day before yesterday was a good one. I didn’t crash all day long, meaning that I got through the day in relatively good shape without a nap. I napped a lot yesterday, however, until it got too hot to sleep. But I went to the store and I cooked for a small army (eight of us) yesterday. These would not be huge accomplishments for most people, but that was pretty good for me these days. I celebrate whatever small victories I can.

The clouds are moving in and the current temperature is 68 degrees at 7:30 am. The prediction is for 100 today, even with the clouds. However, the high will go down to 83 by Saturday, and with any luck and I can get my life and sanity back again.

Go Crazy!

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take heaven!
No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in the present little instance. Take peace!
-Fra Giovannin Giocondo

I’ve been reading Anne Lamott’s book, Plan B: Further thoughts on faith and the quote above came from her book, which I love. She’s a Christian and if every Christian were like her I would have no problems with Christianity at all.

She speaks of how to live oneself as a very imperfect, broken being and I can relate to that. She gives me hope that somehow it will all turn out okay, or if it doesn’t, at least there will be something to laugh about along the way.

I don’t know what’s up with the planets lately, and here I’m speaking in an astrological sense, not about my son’s band. I suppose I had a warning a week or so ago when I read the horoscope in Street Roots, which said “Go crazy! Go crazy! Go crazy!” Fortunately, it wasn’t for my sign, but a couple of people in my life seemed to have taken the message to heart and have ended up on their respective psych wards.

One is a dear friend in another part of the country and I’ve been on the phone a lot, with her, her husband, and her daughter. I’ve been so concerned, and I’m feeling so distant in terms of space and logistics, yet very close to her psychically. She’s went gibbering over the edge into the applesauce a few days ago, a manic episode, brought on by lots of anxiety, too little sleep, too little food, and crossing many time zones. Fortunately, every time I talk to her she sounds a little more like her regular crazy self (instead of the clinically psychotic version that recently emerged). Well, it’s all familiar territory to me. Bipolar disorder runs in my family.

Andrine, Howard, David, and I sat at the breakfast table this morning contemplating our crazy families. Andrine’s maternal grandmother was deaf and schizophrenic. Her paternal grandfather fatally shot a man over a checkers game. David’s family is riddled with all sorts of unstable types. One of his uncles fancied himself “prophet unto the last generation” and was famous for ranting on David’s father’s funeral. The other uncle is purported to have murdered his wife, although he was never prosecuted for it. As for me, well, both my mother and brother were institutionalized fairly frequently due to mania. I myself have had a few brushes with mania before I learned to go to bed early and eat regular meals. Only Howard’s family seemed to have escaped insanity. There were times when his parents could induce insanity, but they never seemed to suffer from it themselves.

The temperature is about to rise into the high 90s tomorrow, which always makes me feel slightly suicidal so I may start gibbering soon myself. I’m enjoying the breezes now, these lazy days of summer. Not that it’s possible for me to do much but laze around. I got more saline put into my expander today after an unconscionably long wait at OHSU. I'm still pretty low energy these days. The pain was getting less until I had more saline added. I'll be glad to be done with this episode. Still, it totally beats chemo.

I came home to find that I passed my professional exam. I got 86% and passing was 68% so I suppose I didn’t need to fret as much as I did. Anyway, I’m now a CADC II, which may open up more doors for me. I’ve been applying for jobs, but not hearing anything. I haven’t been called back for any interviews. This probably means that it is just not the time for me to be getting work. I knew that already, but it’s hard to let interesting jobs go by without applying.

Andrine and Howard Save the Day

We had the sewing party today and Nadine was the only non-Willow Cottager to participate. She and I repaired to the kitchen to make lunch and had fun doing that. But Howard and Andrine spent the whole day making costumes for the Stage Left show at Country Fair, fifteen and all. Well, Petra made one of them. Howard did all the cutting, Andrine did all the sewing. It was a huge effort. I was fairly useless, except for the cooking part. Oh, and Nadine and I picked up Howard’s car from the shop so he could concentrate on cutting out costumes. About 4 o'clock I had to go upstairs and take a nap. When I came down an hour and a half later, Andrine and Howard were cleaning up the dining room where they had been working and everything was done. I was so astonished. I called Peggy to let her know that she didn't have to knock herself out to come down here early to finish them up.

Jasper is in charge of the show this year. Normally, we have a sewing party in April, so this was really left until the last moment, despite the fact that I’ve been prodding him since March to supply us with the needed elements (design, patterns, materials) to sew. We got the materials the weekend before the fair. I was in despair because I had no energy to do the physical labor. But Howard and Andrine stepped into the breach and pulled it off.

I’m wildly impatient to get my energy back. I had so little right now. I’m three weeks out from surgery now and I know that I’m right on target in my recovery. After my mastectomy, I was still in pretty rough shape at three weeks out and this last surgery was much more complex, lengthy, and painful. But it annoys me to feel so useless.

Despite my best intentions, I’ve been applying for jobs. I applied for two last week. I’m still in no shape to interview for them, let alone start working, but interesting things are coming my way. And then Roberta called today wanting to start a treatment center out in Clackamas, which would be really fascinating. It’s a commute, of course. That’s the big drawback, but it would be so great to work with her and Akhri out there. I’d love to reassemble the people from our Clackamas RAP group and start a treatment agency, with yoga, gardening, job training, combining all sorts of passions in a big synthesis. Roberta has lots of contacts, irons in the fire, and a line on possible grants. I feel between the three of us, Akhri, Roberta, and myself, we would have a fighting chance to get this thing off the ground. Now if I could only convince my dear friend Dawn to come back from England and join us, that would be an unbeatable combination.

We’re gearing up for the fair here. I didn’t think that I’d be able to go, but Mark found me a camping pass. I’ll come late (Saturday morning) and leave early (Sunday night). I’ll most likely not seem much of the fair, because I don’t have a lot of energy, but at least I can hang around at Stage Left and visit with people. David will take the giant tent so he has a place to put his tuba, and there will be plenty of room for me. Anyway, I’m excited that I’ll be able to do this.

This will be the year that us old farts will make way for the next generation. That's why Jasper is in charge of the show. I'm intrigued to find out what he has come up with. It's not like there's been a lot of information from that quarter.

Our Mothers, Ourselves

I was looking through some of the photographs that Howard brought back from his mother's house and found this one of Sophie and Elizabeth, Howard's mother and my mother. It was probably taken about fifteen years ago, right before my mother became really ill. I still think my mother was one of the most beautiful people I have ever known and I feel so blessed to have been her daughter.


I'm feeling better today, less inclined to chant my new mantra, "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow." I had a horrible night of insomnia last night. I probably should go watch television when it gets that bad because that always puts me to sleep.


I spent the day working on my new website: www.ebikerevolution.com. Chira (my housemate) helped me put it together. We're working out the bugs, trying to get it organized. It's a huge project, but I figure if I keep at it, it will evolve into something useful. I have conceived it as a launch pad for fomenting the ebike resolution. I'm working on creating a world where we use cars as little as possible, at least here in Portland. I think this has huge implications. I hope to create a forum for discussion and a way to brainstorm about how to transform Portland to a bicycle utopia.


I keep fretting about the employment situation. All sorts of potential jobs keep cropping up and despite my resolutions, I have applied for a couple of them. I really want a job that will not require a car so that I can get rid of mine. I'm determined to shrink my carbon footprint.


My friend Carol is living in Northern England near Lancaster and is being flooded out. She's about to leave there and doesn't know whether or not she'll return to find her house under a layer of mud. She writes:


"I just have to keep that in mind as I go through this horrible process
of letting go of my materialism. I never have thought of myself as
such, but culling through all our stuff, I am truly ashamed. I just got
that even if no deluges come and our sweet, quaint little village
remains in tact, which I fervently hope is the case, this had to
happen. We needed to be electrocuted into consciousness. We must never
again schlep so much stuff from place to place. I truly hope that we're
given enough time to get out of here so that I can give 90% of what we
own to people who need it. I can't wait to get out from under this mess
we've created for ourselves, but it is a great blessing in the guise of
a formidable enemy. What a way to learn non-attachment, eh? When I
said I wanted to lose weight before the celebrations, I had no idea I'd
be put on the Glamour by Refugee Diet! Jesus Christ, it's enough
already! Tomorrow, if this reprieve from being in a homeless shelter
continues, I'm going to toss everything we don't use or wear. That way,
if we do have to get out of here on a moments notice, we easily can.
Oy, do you believe our karma!"


So, that's the lesson of the day, of the month, of the year, of the decade, of our lifetime. Simplify, simplify, simplify. I had a workmate in Port Townsend who lost all her possessions in a house fire. I expressed my sympathy and she said that it some ways it was a relief to lose all those possessions. It was very freeing.


I'm inspired to get rid of some of my possessions. They come so easily to us and they are so hard to part with sometimes.