The C Card

Ever since starting treatments, I have laughed with friends who are envious of me getting to play "The C-Card."  If I don't want to do something, I just simply insert into the conversation, "I've got cancer," and I'm scott free.

And it's not just me using it.  My roommate got us much quicker cable maintenance using the C-Card.  While my sister was visiting, she used it a number of times for faster service or to cancel orders.  Sometimes I had to put on a sad face to pull it off, but she was lovin' it.

My brother the priest brags that his C-Card (the Collar) works even better than mine, and together we could conquer the world.

So I decided to make it official and construct actual C-Cards.  The one for me says, "I wish I could, but I've got cancer."  And for friends, I made some that say, "I'm sorry, Officer, I'm on my way to help a friend with cancer."

Our Journies

What inspires us to move forward in our lives?  What holds us back?  What traditions, fears, people, real estate, or financial concerns keep us from fulfilling our hearts?

How often do we stop and seriously contemplate, "If I could do anything with the rest of my life, what would it be?"  Obviously I am stopping and doing that a lot lately, but I have done it often throughout my life.  I wonder how many others reflect on it, and truly give it justice.  For me, I would never call it a midlife crisis, because I see it as the opposite of a crisis.  It's a continuing promise that I made to myself.

Whether it's changing our career, retiring, becoming entrepreneurial, giving back to the world, enjoying a more relaxing peace, or moving to a new city or climate, we all have dreams that will hopefully become realities some day.

I just read an article by Roger Housden where he "captures that moment when you dare to take your heart in your hands and walk through an invisible wall into a new life."

For him, he says it took a long time.  His hard outer shell had to be softened, broken down even, before the moment of truth could appear.  He needed to be humbled and cooked in the tears of loss for any deeper life to emerge.  That is true for so many of my friends.  He explains that not everyone must first be exposed to pain, however, "A new life requires a death of some kind, otherwise it is nothing new, but rather a shuffling of the same deck."

For many people he says, it could mean that one day, for no apparent reason, you simply know that you cannot continue to play by the rules you have accepted for years -- the rules of a relationship, the abuses at work, or the script you have written for your life.

Wow.  That's some heavy poop to process.  What script have I written that needs editing?  Are there some back page notes telling me I must be rich or important, or doing something interesting to others?  Is there a chapter on image that must be deleted?

The article ends with this . . . 

"In being true to that small voice within . . you are being of service to others and to the world in the most profound way possible.  You cannot know where that voice will take you, but in being willing to save the only life you can save, you are affirming one of the deepest and most sobering truths of all: No one else can ever walk your journey for you.  You alone can respond to your call."

A Healthy Balanced Blog

When deciding the ingredients for my blog, I try to stick to a healthy balanced diet.

There is a lot of heavy meat.  Subjects like reducing stress, knowing when to move on in our lives, our time on earth being just a stop at the 7-Eleven, dealing with life's punches and trusting in our futures.  I've tried to insert pieces of wisdom from other cancer patients that I have read. Often times, there is so much to contemplate, it's a bit overwhelming for me.

I sometimes blog about personal situations like emergency room visits, my symptoms, friends who help me, the love of my family, the amazing quilt that my sister made for me, and my garden.

For spice and garnish, I sprinkle a little about hummingbirds, a lymph note musical, questioning why they don't have Vicodin in Purgatory, renaming medications like iSick or MakeMePoop, and breast milk.

I know my most memorable and intense blog will always be from April 22 on the beach. Rereading it gives me comfort and strength.

More than anything else, I try to emphasize that life is good, challenges are opportunities, and our future is as bright as we choose to see it.

I wish I could say that I have always been a good reader, but I can't, so I like transferring my current reading cravings into metaphors of sugar and fat.  I've always been great at consuming those elements.

My appetite for all of the above ingredients seems insatiable.  And I often get so full from trying to eat it all up that I feel like I'm going to burst.

Tomorrow after chemo, a little more heavy fare about being true to ourselves.

Lake Arrowhead

I spent this past weekend up in the mountains at Lake Arrowhead . . . less than two hours away from Los Angeles, and yet a million miles from the city.  It was my first trip anywhere in over seven months.

The air is clean.  The trees are majestic.  The lake is crystal blue.  The only sounds are those of coyotes, birds, trees rustling, and an occasional neighbor laughing as they pass on the road.

My friends Reese and Greg have worked on their beautiful lake house for over five years and finished it to perfection.  From the all-wood interior, stone fireplace and incredible details, it is the perfect setting for grounding oneself in "the shit that matters most."

And we did that.  There were eight who ate.  A lot.  We played games, visited with each other and neighbors, took the dogs for long walks, and swam in the lake (while others read).

As the time rolled around to begin packing up, I started to get new emotions.  Empathy for those who had to return to stressful jobs the next morning.  Pity for those of "me" who didn't get to.  But I quickly took what I have learned recently and shifted my thoughts back to reality.  Everything is just as it is meant to be right now, for all of us.  Why fight it?  It's such a waste of brain power.

So I smiled and thought about getting up this morning, making coffee, and having the joy of blogging.

Mm Mm Good

One of my favorite actresses of all times, Miss Piggy, once said, "Never eat more than you can lift."

This past week, I have had to install a forklift to assist me with my appetite. Evidently, that tiny pink pill called Prednisone packs a powerful punch for food craving.  I cannot stop eating.

For the first time in my life, I laid awake in bed last night compulsively focused on all the food downstairs in the kitchen.  Finally I got up, ate an entire box of cereal and a bowl of ice cream, and then seriously considered making cookies.

I'm certainly not complaining.  I have been trying to gain weight and this seems like the gift I have been waiting for.

If it's not moving, eat it.  If it's moving, shoot it and eat it.

And In Other Words . . .

My wonderful friend Danny, an attorney and yoga instructor, sent me an email yesterday just a few minutes after my posting of the blog.  He had not seen it, and yet this email was directly related.  I want to share some of what he wrote . . .

"There are two fundamental lessons of yoga.  The first is skillful proportionate effort.  This is the one Americans are pretty good at:  hug in here, stretch long there, align you knee over your ankle, press into the floor, extend out from your pelvis, etc.

The second fundamental lesson of yoga is to surrender and receive.  This is the hard one. Before, during, and after the exertion of effort, we learn to remember that we are supported and cared for by an infinitely loving universe.  We learn to breathe into our back body and feel the loving support of God and of our friends, family, teachers, sponsors, and fellow travelers . . . we learn to ask for what we need, to reach out and connect and let others have the gift of lending us a hand.

. . . You are beginning to get the hang of surrendering and receiving.  In spiritual terms, once we have learned the lessons that our challenges were sent to teach us, the challenges themselves dissolve, evaporate, transform into gifts."

That is what I have been trying to communicate in three months of blogging all in one sentence. Thank you, Danny.

Thank You

My most vivid Christmas memory is a hint of the character of my father.  It's not a bicycle under the tree or a sled ride in the backyard, but rather a trip we took across town to give an underprivileged family a turkey dinner.  As long as I live I won't forget the face of the little boy hiding behind a door who jumped out quickly, grabbed an apple, and ran back to hiding.

Long before I understood its value, Dad taught us that service to others is the key to happiness. He would often gripe about his "jughead" tenants, but always helped them far beyond his means. My favorite story has always been his black drag queen tenant.  It was probably two years before Dad realized he wasn't renting to "a nice man and his sister."

I think helping each other is a natural instinct shared with most other living creatures.  Ants and chimpanzees have a difficult time writing checks, so they help each other in a hands-on way . . . the most rewarding way in my opinion.

I write about this today because I am on the receiving end of the service call these days.  That's not easy for me, but as I have said before, I have learned to simply say, "thank you."

When I was in college, my aunt and uncle wanted to help me financially.  Although I desperately needed it because I was going to drop out of school to try to catch up, I was too proud to take it. Then my aunt told me, "If your uncle and I were in trouble and you wanted to help us, how would you feel if we said no thank you?"  That completely gave me a new perspective.  Allowing others to help is just as important as offering service.

With each "thank you" that I say, I remember that I will return the favor to someone else someday. I'm building a lot of them, so get your wishes on a list.

The many faces of Billy Bird

It is very difficult for me to put these photos on here.  I'm doing it as a marker of my current life so I can look back and never forget.  And it is not a coincidence that it is Friday, the 13th.  The first photo was taken just before my diagnosis.  The second was at chemo #8.  Granted, I posed for full affect. Everyone tells me that I never really looked that bad, but the camera doesn't lie.  Photo three was at chemo #10 as my hair was starting to come back.  And picture four was about an hour ago in my courtyard.  Looking at it, I cannot believe how much weight I have lost.  I am going to eat a small farm animal for dinner tonight!

My oncologist yesterday told me that my breathing problems are a side affect of Bleomycin, one of my chemo meds, so he has discontinued it.  He has prescribed two new meds which he said will improve my breathing, and low and behold, also improve my energy, emotions and mental attitude. I never even told him that I was having emotional swings and attitude problems, but maybe his first clue was that I was crying when he came in the room.

I have lost nine pounds since the last chemo two weeks ago.  The new meds will unfortunately cause thinner arms and legs, which I do not believe is humanly possible.  I will focus on the positive thinking and not the linguini I see in the mirror hanging from my shoulders.

I'm excited at the thought of new energy.  Marathon here I come.

To Kelly

Tomorrow, my niece Kelly will receive her masters degree from the University of Cincinnati in social work.  That makes me proud on a number of levels.  First of all, she is dedicating her life to helping others.  What greater gift can a person give to this planet and to herself?  Through all the work she has already done, she loves the accomplishment of helping others improve themselves.

Secondly, she is the first in her generation of our immediate family to get a masters.  She'll be followed shortly by one of my nephews, but for now, she is the first.  (I so much applaud my sisters for raising such wonderful, giving, intelligent children.)

And not the least of my uncle proudlyness, Kelly is graduating from my alma mater (which is Latin, by the way, for "nourishing mother,"  whatever relevance that might hold).  Granted it was exactly thirty years ago that I marched in my cap and gown, but hey, we never lose our loyalty.  And I dare anyone to challenge me . . . . I can still sing every word to the UC fight song.

Dreams

Just as I began a nap yesterday, God decided it was more important to have a tree removed next door.  Second only to a bomb or a rocket lift-off, there aren't too many things louder.  So I smilingly took the hint, got up, and . . . yes . . . watched Oprah.

It was then that I realized God had another plan.  This episode was about people with cancer and the lessons they are learning.  These brave guests on her show have serious afflictions and know they are going to die.  Their messages were powerful and extremely thought provoking.

Among the great words of wisdom were to live each day filled with what is important.  Have integrity and be a good person.  Help others.  Love.  But the message most important to all of them was to do the things you've always wanted to do.  One man's quote was, "Rarely do we look back on our lives and regret the things we did.  We regret the things we didn't do."

After the show, I sat and tried to think of things I have always wanted to do and haven't yet accomplished.  It wasn't easy.  I'm not one of those people who wants to sky dive, climb Mount Everest, or snorkel where no man has snorkeled before.  There is nothing appealing to me about the earth coming towards me at warped speed, and being face to face with fish creeps me out. I'll leave those to other dreamers.

I've never taken a cruise.  I've never been to Mount Rushmore.  And I've never been skiing. None of them seem appealing enough that I feel the urgency to accomplish them.

And then I started to wonder why I don't have a big dream, and I believe the answer is because I was faced with fairly certain death in the late 80's.  There was absolutely no reason that AIDS wouldn't take me just like all of my friends.  Doctors gave me a few years.  And like Oprah's guests yesterday, I decided dying wasn't as important as living.  Since then, I truly believe that almost every decision in my life has been based on that.  I have never been afraid of taking a risk.  I also recognize that it has been a blessing that I don't have a family, unlike most others, and have always had the freedom to move.

I went back to that list of things I have accomplished in life.  I recommend everyone make one.  It always cheers me up.  If there is something missing on your list, then by all means, make a decision to attempt it.  As I study my list, I will admit that I would someday like to be published, having written books, plays and short stories.  Someday I hope to write something worthy of a press.

A huge positive affect on me right now is the book I am currently reading, "LEAP! What Will We Do with the Rest of Our Lives?" by Sara Davidson.  That, combined with her workbook will help me tremendously with new goals.

So I will continue to dream and make a new list.  It was a good lesson I learned yesterday.  Move on from the list of accomplishments and on to a list of dreams.  Dreaming is so good.

The Musical

OK.  Here it is.  The pitch for "Lymph Notes, The Musical!"

A bold little bird named Billy is just a few days old when a violent rain storm throws him from his comfortable nest.  He manages to ride the storm safely to a lily pad below, but the wind and rain continue to rage.  Billy floats helplessly into unchartered seas.

The storm eventually breaks, however after days of desperate attempts to find his way home, he drifts further into a land that looks like nowhere he could imagine.  The music fades up and Billy sings an emotional ballad titled, "My New Pad Just Aint Home."

Suddenly the lily pad crashes ashore and as he picks himself up and stumbles to the ground, Billy sees a beautiful winding path made of yellow bricks.

Along his journey on the path, he meets so many skilled and generous other birds who want to help Billy find his way home.  He first meets a very intelligent, but scared, crow who is convinced that Bio Feedback is the answer to getting back to the nest.  The crow sings a duet with Billy; "Somewhere Over, and Down By, The Bio."

Further down the path they run into a loving Silver Warbler who believes Billy's answer can be achieved with Raiki.  Squeaking down the trail, he sings, "Achy Breaky Raiki."

And finally they meet a courageous little Tufted Titmouse who generously offers Billy her breast milk to give him the strength to go on.  All four of them toast, and drink, and joyfully sing "Teets the Little Things In Life That Matter."

But eventually Billy's true salvation comes from a wise old Oncologist Owl (Alright, let's just say it . . . . "The Wizard of Owls").  After singing "Whooo's That Knocking At My Spoor?," he takes Billy under his wing and flies him safely to his nest where he grows into a healthy energetic bird.  

There's no place like home.

Bobby Lama

I had an interesting and refreshing twist of thinking yesterday.

My good friend Bob, a crackerjack attorney who earns his living convincing judges, arbitrators, and powerful executives of the truth, had a little come-to-Jesus with me.  Bob has often listened to my troubles and concerns and then hit me with some intense one-liner that makes me go home and completely change direction in my thinking.  I secretly refer to him as my Bobby Lama.

I was planning on going to a movie last night with Bob and his partner Rob, who is equally as caring and understanding.  I felt sad that I didn't have the energy to join them.  As I have done a lot lately, I began my liturgy about feeling lazy and unproductive.  There is a very logical side of my brain that knows I have cancer of the blood and I'm going through intensive chemotherapy, but there is always that crazy "made in America" side that says we get up, no matter what, and march to some stupid drum.  My drum makes Purdue University's look like a toy.

Bob has such an attorney's knack for knowing how to take the logical truth and reroute it into a convincing line of thinking, usually with some spark of new truth that got lost in the crazy side of the brain.

A few months ago, Bob was instrumental in assisting me with applying for disability.  He was telling me yesterday that we did that so I could get paid to heal.  My full-time job right now is to heal myself.  If I am not constantly working towards getting better, then I am not doing my job. That means resting, and not pushing my body against its natural instinct to repair itself.  The reward will be healthy energy some day soon.  He said I should not be a slacker at my job.  I should stay in bed.

We laughed that I immediately wanted to make T-shirts that say, "DON'T BE A SLACKER.  STAY IN BED."

Bob is celebrating a major birthday this weekend.  What kind of gift says "thank you for saving my life so many times?"

For Doc B

I want to dedicate an entry to Doc B.  You never know where you might meet a new friend and inspiration.

Doc B is the father of a friend of mine.  Although we have never met, he has continued to read my blog and comment, always offering words of encouragement and friendship.  Thanks Doc B.

And to all of you who take the time to read this.  I appreciate it.  New friends.  Old friends.  Cousins.  Nephews.  And an occasional physician.  I promise you all credits when we produce "Lymph Notes The Musical."

A Cause to Pause

My recent low energy brings with it a generous amount of reflection time.  Like so many other aspects of our lives, we don't usually take the time to contemplate what is important until there seems to be an urgent need.  It's a rare gift to be forced to sit and read and think.  Definitely not a gift I would have chosen. (Who knows?  Maybe I would really like fruitcake if I had to try it.)

I pulled out a book I read about five years ago.  It is a book that helped me in many ways, titled, "I Will Not Die An Unlived Life" by Dawna Markova.  I had dog-eared so many pages.  You might want to skip this blog until you have a few minutes to absorb it.  Dawna offers some beautiful places to launch a spirit into new perspectives.

"If you move very fast and stay very busy and live in a very noisy way, never relating to inertia or the truth stillness can bring, you may never hear your hungers . . . . Just as you can hear your stomach grumbling when your body is hungry, so, when the shell gets too thick, if you listen really deeply in the silence, you will hear your soul keening," she writes.

And I offer you a few of the other quotes that I love.  They are meant to address our futures and what values are most important to us.

"What (people, places, events, situations) deplete your energy?  What generates energy for you?"

"May we all find something to love that is larger and more powerful than anything we fear."

" . . . the art of success is using what you're good at to overcome the challenges that life brings you."

"To be fully alive, we have no choice but to finally move closer toward what we usually veer away from."

"You can't grab God.  You just have to become empty.  Then God will have a space to enter."

And finally, particularly profound for me right now,

"What if the moments of the greatest wounding in your life were also places where the Divine crossed your path and the unquenchable dream of your life was born?  God has an exquisite sense of humor.  Wouldn't it be a good joke if the worst that has happened to us holds the possibility of bringing the best in us to the community?"