The Fall

Every year my physic soul sister and I trade tarot readings in January to see what may be up for the rest of the year.

This year, as you can imagine, my reading was a mixed bag and it started off with this card:

Now you don't have to know anything at all about tarot to see that this card is intense. Simply put, what it symbolizes is - sudden, unexpected, painful - change(s).

The people in this card, who we can only assume were happily standing atop the tower admiring the view a few moments earlier, are now tumbling down to an uncertain future after their cozy spot was hit by lightning and then proceeded to catch fire. Yikes.

When I saw this card for January I must admit, I wasn't all that happy to see it. I've pulled The Tower many times before in all the years I've been reading and I know what it means for me. In the end, I always land the water, dog paddling and content, but the fall itself can be tricky.

This time around, the fall has been filled with physical ailments, side effects from the chemo that is curing me of this disease, and a side bonus of a cold, which has knocked me flat into bed.

Mostly though, its been about control.

To describe what I mean, let me direct your attention to The Secret. You may have heard of it from a person named Oprah. The Secret proposes that as individuals "we create our lives, with every thought every minute of the day."

I happen to love this concept, it taps into all the fluffy new age thinking that can be very inspiring and just plain practical. Not much can shift if you focus only on a problem, focus on what's working though, and what could work with that, and you can move mountains. (or Towers maybe)

The only flaw I can see with The Secret though is that it puts the individual in complete control, and I think it goes beyond the seize your destiny type of thing. Taken to its furthest point The Secret posits that we can be in total control if only we visualize correctly and think correctly. If we don't, we're up a creek without a paddle with only ourselves to blame.

In the last 3 months since my diagnosis, cancer has taught me just how not in control I am. The day my doctor wrote the order for my mammogram to have a look at that lump, she told me that I was in perfect health. She went on to say that my diet, exercise routine and lifestyle were all perfectly aligned for a healthy, disease free life for many, many years. Whew, in the clear, right?

Well, that your reading this says otherwise. Because no matter what good health my diet, exercise routine and positive thinking manifested within my body, at a cellular level, I wasn't in control.

The cancer cells did their thing while I ate heirloom tomatoes from the farmers market and plucked herbs from my garden. They danced with me at the jazz fundraiser and even went to see Wynton Marsalis with me. The cancer continued to grow as I have continually created a life I love living, surrounded by people I love beyond measure.

The cancer is there. It must be dealt with, so I'm dealing with it.

Physically, the treatment is rough. Not completely unbearable, but rough. Mentally, its no picnic either. I have walked though a door which I will never be able to return from. Concerns about recurrence, will always be a part of my internal conversation with myself now. Rightfully so, I want to be here for another 45 years or so, but still. Its there.

I've fallen out of that tower.

This time though, my face has that peaceful meditation smile. My hands are in the prayer position. I know that I'm going to land in water so warm its going to feel like a bath. I know that wholeness, radiant health, and the experience of love will wash over me and I am open to it all.

If it so happens, that the water isn't quite as warm as I imagined, I'm not going to blame myself for not visualizing hard enough, or long enough. I'm going to remember that the only thing in this life I can control, truly control, is my own attitude about things.

That's it.

My cells will do their thing. Life is gonna do its thing. People will do their thing.

I'm going to do mine, in the exact way I know how.

So that's what I'm doing, in spite of the fact that behind me, my tower is burning. Or maybe, just maybe, this new perspective is possible because the tower is burning. In which case, pass me a marshmallow and a stick.

And the award for the most irritating chemo side effect goes to....

...drum roll please....

My constantly running nose.

Bryan said my nose is making up for all the work my feet aren't doing as of late.

But I'm not buying it.

Lost in Space

For those of you who have an interest in math, you will recognize the drawing and text above. On that page the father of geometry is making a triangle with a  few straight lines.

What I really love about Euclid is the simple and elegant way he presented his work. On the surface, its very neat and tidy. Sit with it for a little bit though and the complexities emerge. Sometimes subtly, sometimes they're in your face.

In the end though he wraps it all up so beautifully, "Therefore..." he says at the end of most of his propositions, then summarizes what the problem was about.

When you're walking into a math problem, even the simplest one, there is a comfort in knowing that the answer is there. Just waiting for you to get to it. Holding its glass and ready to say "cheers" when you arrive.

Its the steps in the middle that are a bitch sometimes. In order to get that little triangle drawing to look like that on your page, you've gotta do some work. That work become slightly more difficult if you're not on speaking terms with calculus or even algebra.

Suddenly, the words on the page, the one's you though you knew, become something different altogether. The known becomes strange and you're in the tick of it, not sure how you'll get to the "Therefore" of the whole thing.

In the beginning, I felt so open to learning what this current problem had to teach me. Looking back, its so clear that the openness came from not knowing what I would have to go through. Like the Fool from the tarot. The one who smiles as he leaps off the cliff with nothing to keep his body or heart from breaking but all the while certain he will land softly.

Now I'm in it and everything has changed. I can see the "Therefore", but I have no idea how I'll get there. The work that I have to do feels so overwhelming and I feel so unlike myself.

I want to yell. Lament aloud, tell you about my weak body, broken heart and confusion. Or about the rhythms, patterns and ways of being that I no longer inhabit. The one's that will never be mine again.

But I can't.

I'm lost in space and in the middle of that page. And this book is so long, and the next proposition just around the corner. Again and again.

Baby it's cold outside

Staying home today, having quiet time with the little boy in his PJ's camped out in bed under a blanket.

BTW, Aidan pointed out yesterday with delight that he is the only one in our house with hair. Show off.

Here's an interesting article I just came across in the New York Times. Thought you might find it worth the read.

Stay warm. Unless you live in a place that is warm and you are already warm. In that case, please accept my blatant envy gracefully. 

Love and Muah.

Rebound from treatment #2

...Is taking longer. No vomiting this time though, but lingering hangover. Goodie.

Lost my hair and my taste for coffee. In other words, my head is cold and aching.

In other news, my post-Christmas house is very untidy. 

Until I feel better though, you can find me on the couch. 

Love and Muah.

Hair me out

A little trip through cancer as displayed by my hair.


Once upon a time I had perfect hair:

See:

This cut is courtesy of the amazing magic of Angie. After searching for many years for someone who understood my hair, I finally found her.

Angie held my hand and lead me down the path of embracing my hair and my quirks. (While at the same time I held her hand through the birth of her 2nd born, but that's another post for another time.)

 At one point a few years ago, Angie gracefully asked, "Are we to the point in our relationship were we can talk about mousse?" I just laughed and laughed. Right there in her chair, wearing the cape, with a wet head and half cut hair. Guess what I left the salon with that day?

I busted out crying the day Angie told me she was moving away. Not only is she an awesome person, she was my hair queen.

After I learned about the cancer, I got really protective of my hair. Cutting it was out of the question until absolutely necessary:

One week later, it became necessary:

This awesome cut was given to me by Jenn at Indigo Salon. For you local folk, Jenn is not only a wizard at hair but a super cool lady. If you need to get your hair cut, call Jenn. She'll have you looking fab in no time.

Did you know that hair can actually hurt when its about to fall off your head. Hence:

It looks cool enough, I guess.

Problem is, this bad ass style isn't work friendly. So, I have a wig for work:

Which, is ok. Its itchy though. And I'll never rock this style as well as Jenny G. Like, never.

I have mixed feelings about my flurry of new styles. On one had I like trying different things. On the other hand, I really loved my hair. Its a mixed bag.

Good thing it will grow again once this is all over. Who knows what it will be like then.


Confidential to my cancer crew (you know who you are): I'm writing a post for you girls. Been thinking about things since our last dinner and want to share some thoughts. Spoiler: I love you girls.

Remember Me?

Whenever I do busy work, data-entry, the dishes, folding clothes, I have to listen to music. Music seems to help my hands, body and brain all sync up to do the work that I need to do, but am not terribly excited about.

Today it was data-entry with Sea Wolf. Old World Romance is an album that reminds me of this last summer. All the fun things I did with my family, which kind of culminated in a quick trip to the Indiana Dunes, sans kiddo.

I’m not proud to admit it, but the trip came about not from careful planning or even by consulting Bryan. It was the result of the following, “I’m going. Would you like to come?” I’m one of those people that have to get away sometimes.

It starts with a little tic in my left eyebrow, which rises at pretty much everything I hear. After a while, this tic transforms into an irritation in my brain, like an itch that won’t stop being itchy. Then, every CVS or grocery store I see makes me want to ram my car through the double glass doors of said establishments. Thereafter, the breathing of other humans seems to be a personal attack against my inner peace.

It’s then I know, without a doubt, I need a change of scenery.

And that’s how we got to the Dunes. I pried my Introverted home-body away from his beloved home and into the driver’s seat of a car. I packed our camping gear but had no plan and no real clue about where we were going. I just wanted to go, so we pointed the car north and we went.

When we got there, I hoped that the fresh dune air and the seagulls would act as a kind of salve to the forced spontaneity and summer traffic. And it did. It was one of those rare weekends this summer where it was hot enough to feel like summer during the day but still chilly at night, perfect for camping. Once we had our fill of the dunes on that first afternoon, we went back to our camp. Bryan, who was a devotee of Vulcan in his last life, set to work on the fire. Once it was going, he got me a glass of champagne, cracked open a beer for himself and turned on Old World Romance.

Thinking about it now makes me smile. That trip will stave off that twitch in my left eyebrow for a long time. I felt so totally free. For that day I was: a solo trip with my man, sleeping under the stars, sand in front of a body of water that could be mistaken for the ocean out of the corner of one’s eye. No dishes. No chores, no screens. Not a care in the world, save how I might go about secretly consuming a cold beer on the beach.  Suddenly, the sound of other human beings was like music to me. Bliss, even. My plan worked.  

Fast forward to December; fast forward to today. Listening to that album brings all that back. I find myself smiling. Thinking, I remember that version of me: the carefree, cancer-free version. I miss that woman; things are so very different today.

Instead of thinking about how long pig-tails are the best camping hairstyle ever, I’m picking up my wig. Rather than reflecting on how champagne tastes just as good from a red solo cup, I plan my day around eating and drinking more cleanly. Rather than making a mini stone wall (from our chairs all the way down to the water) I’m resting in all my free time.

So many changes, I hardly recognize myself today. And tomorrow and Monday and Tuesday, when my hair is finally all gone, I will recognize myself even less. I miss that other woman. Maybe, someday, I can be her again, if only for one precious day.