The Relay for Life

One of the best things cancer has brought me is my post-treatment support group that meets every other week at Womencare. When I walk into that room and sink down into those worn, cosy couches, see the hat rack in the corner full of free hats, the body cast of a woman with a mastectomy, and the bulletin board full of flyers for complementary treatment and art groups for survivors, I feel more at home than I do anywhere else.

In the six months that we have been meeting, the eight of us who gather in that room have gotten to know each other in ways other people don’t know us. We talk about things that are largely left unsaid. The people we are closest to in our lives-- our families, lovers and friends--are happy we are alive, thrilled we are no longer sick; our cancer, if no longer acute, is in the past for them, where they hope it will remain. But for those of us who had cancer invade our cells, the long-term impact continues to radiate out into our lives. We see the world through different eyes; none of us are the same as we were before the world cracked and cancer entered our bodies.  When we are together in that sacred room, it is one of the few places we can explore what our lives are really like. Freely, we discuss the limbo we live in: the terrain of no longer being sick, but walking on unstable ground. Each of us knows viscerally how thin the line is between health and illness. We no longer feel impervious. No one outside that room “gets it” the way we do. All of us sigh a breath of relief when we walk into that room.

My Garden is Screaming

It’s been two weeks since Karyn left for India, two weeks of being on my own with the kids. I’m six weeks into my training for the Breast Cancer Walk and much of my time each week is spent walking the streets, hills and beaches of Santa Cruz. I’ve been coasting along, enjoying the summer, when suddenly this week, I made a list of all the undone things that were piling up—two manuscripts I took on to edit that I had barely dipped into, the logistical preparations for my retreat at Commonweal, the things I have to do to get Lizzy ready to go away for a month away this summer, all the things I was nagging Eli about, the arrangements I have to make for the animals, the question of where Eli would stay while Lizzy and I were out of town. Suddenly it all piled up and I began to feel stressed.

I’d get to the end of the day and realize that I hadn’t watered the garden—yet again. The squashes were growing monstrous and looked at me balefully, the head of cauliflower was teetering past its prime, the kale and chard remained unpicked, and my neighbor Paula came over to ask me when I was going to pick the apricots. I’d forgotten to turn on the sprinkler, again. The flowers were wilting. The fruits and vegetables were screaming. My negligence was apparent everywhere. Every time I sat down to get something done, Lizzy would beg me to watch another episode of Heroes or to make her something to eat, and my own list of tasks were going undone. I could feel the tension building inside me. My relaxing summer was eroding before my eyes.

A Pretty Little Blue Pill

I wrote this in response to a writing prompt I gave my students, "A pretty little blue pill."  

I don't have a pretty little blue pill, but I do have a tiny little white pill, a shiny bullet-shaped red and white striped pill, a jelly-filled golden pill, a smelly, clear capsule filled with yellow powder, a rough brown oblong pill, a white elliptical pill, a tiny blue thyroid pill and so many others, I can't remember them all. Before I had cancer, I had the tiny blue pill and an occasional Advil. Now I have mastered the art of swallowing a whole handful of pills with just a couple of sips of water--2 or 3 ounces tops. Now I take pills four times a day. Now I have four plastic pillboxes, each with seven plastic compartments, one for each day of the week. One of these plastic pill boxes is labeled AM. Those are the wake-up and take-them-an-hour-before-eating pills. Then there are the breakfast pills, to be taken with eggs and spinach or a bowl of cereal or last night's leftovers, whatever I'm eating for breakfast. Then there are the dinner pills and the ones right before bed--four mixed mushroom capsules and a melatonin.

Training Update: Week 4: 6/27/09

When I began training, I bought a great little book at Bookshop Santa Cruz called, Santa Cruz: A Guide for Runners, Joggers and Serious Walkers. It shows all the trails, both urban and rural in the county, with maps, mileage, directions, and annotations.

I’ve decided to gradually work my way through the whole book and to do all the state park trails this summer while I’m training. I’ll head out for these hilly, redwood lined or beach trails on the weekends when I do the long distance mileage and focus on street training during my shorter weekday walks. Since the San Francisco 3-day will be mostly on pavement, I need to put a lot of street miles in.

Last night, I dropped Karyn off at the airport for her big trip to India to study with Iyengar, the founder of her yoga lineage. I’m very excited for her and open to the adventure of 6 weeks at home with Eli and Lizzy. However, I got back from San Francisco very late last night, in the wee hours, and then got up at 7:30 to walk today.