Category Archives: Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Aging, Beyond the Boundaries, Faith and Spirituality, Family, Feelings, Friends, Original Relation, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase

A Yamantaka Moment

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Beltane                                                        Closing Moon

Yama
Yamantaka

So. Today is June 11th. I feel a small hole in the pit of my stomach. Not often you meet a day when your life is at stake, but this is one of those days for me. This afternoon we’ll find out the stage (severity & aggressiveness) of my cancer. We’ll also decide on a course of treatment.

It’s been an interesting time since the initial news from the biopsy. Once I absorbed that information and read the Schwartz book on Surviving Prostate Cancer, I’ve let the matter go for the most part, at least at a feeling level. There was a bracket around the time between then, late May and now, mid-June. In that bracketed time no new information could be gained and no action could be taken.

Now that bracketed time is over and the next steps, the real choices are just ahead. My confidence level is still high. Kate’s knowledge and support is essential as is encouragement from friends and family. Dr. Eigner is competent and practiced, and, unusually, open to serious questions and probing. I’ve done my research, have a list of questions.

The appointment is at 2:30. More later.

Aging, Health, Original Relation, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

This. Well.

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Beltane                                                             Closing Moon

 

A man in Kirkland, Washington, got his last wish, thanks to the compassion of the local fire district and caregivers at his hospice care center.

The patient, known simply as Ed, had been a forest ranger with a passion for the outdoors. Sadly, his illnesses forced him to stay inside for many years, and he eventually became a resident at the Evergreen Hospice Center in Kirkland. As his health waned, he shared his last wish with the hospice chaplain: To be among nature one last time.

It was important to the staff to make sure Ed was safe on his journey, so they contacted the Snohomish County Fire District to see what they could do. With a little teamwork, Ed caught a ride in an EMS vehicle to some nearby woods.

The EMS team that transported him made sure he experienced as much of the area as he could.

“Together, the group took Ed up and down the trails, bringing him the scents of the forest by touching the fragrant growth and bringing their hands close to Ed’s face,”reads a post on the Evergeen Hospice Volunteers page.

Colorado, Commentary on Religion, Faith and Spirituality, Holidays, Music, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

JFest

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Beltane                                                            Closing Moon

 

Kate and I went to Boulder J Fest yesterday. It was on Pearl Street Mall, a three block long pedestrian mall that is the heart of downtown Boulder. We had a great time, wandering among booths that featured Jewish crafts people, Kosher food, humanist Judaism, Judaism Your Way and B’Nai Brith among many others.

We ate lunch in an excellent Italian trattoria with outdoor seating that gave us a comfortable front row seats to the performance tent. We first heard Lost Tribe, a klezmer band with extraordinary range doing everything from Bob Dylan to reggae klezmer. After they finished an acapella Orthodox group Six13 took over the stage.

Here’s a video of one of their number on youtube:

Family, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase

Aware

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Beltane                                                                    Closing Moon

I can feel June 11th out there, pulling me toward it. An hour to an hour and a half with Dr. Eigner and Kate, deciding how to go after this disease that wants to live. It’s continued existence is, as physicians say, incompatible with life (in this case my own). Sleep comes easily and I feel confident about the possible treatments, yet there is still this sense that life runs right up to June 11th, then descends into a dark cave.

After June 11th we move from determining exactly what’s going on: staging, best approaches, options to action. A surgery date will be set. Then, the surgery itself and the recovery, which can be unpleasant, but not dangerous according to Dr. Walsh’s book. It is that transition from diagnosis and planning to the active removal of the prostate and its cancer that is the cave.

This cave is another redoubt of uncertainty. Until the surgery is complete, the pathology done and the surgeon reports, all the positive possibilities are just that, possibilities. And, of course, this is what matters most in the entire process, the results.

All my reading and Kate’s give me great odds. The testimony of friends who’ve undergone this procedure or a similar one reassures me, too. Stories of those outside my own acquaintance, but known to friends Charlie Haislet, Roy Wolf, Mark Odegard are also positive.

My heart believes all will be well. My head says yes, probably. We’ve done what we can, taken the steps necessary to make a good outcome happen. After that, then, matters move beyond my control. And I’m fine with that. Hopeful in a confident, but not sure, manner.

Faith and Spirituality, Feelings, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.
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Beltane                                                               Closing Moon

When attention defocuses and my mind heads toward default, it no longer picks up a stray red flag: What about the $%*&$NG house in Andover? This creates space for other thoughts to arise, of course, like: what about my prostate? But that’s fine because action on it is ahead and noticing it does not create anxiety, just resolve. This means I now have some free space, some room to expand my horizons. That makes me feel good.

Aging, Faith and Spirituality, Health, Original Relation, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase

Tightrope

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Beltane                                                                         Closing Moon

Realized after talking to Kate yesterday that I have a tightrope I’m walking.  I need to recognize my prostate cancer as potentially fatal, because of that I need to find the best treatment possible. Yet. I also need to find ways to be with that possibility and not sink into the slough of despond. There’s a tension created by the act of staying focused on the medical issues and trying to maintain calm. I’m sure this is not novel to me. Anyone with a lethal agent inside them must face the same dilemma.

One solution is denial. Nope, nothing’s going on. I’m ok. Another is wallowing in the terrible fate. Poor me, why me, oh my. In between these two extremes is a path that sees things as they are, but does not give up living. Of course I swing between the two poles. At certain points I think oh this is no big problem. It’ll get fixed (how is not part of this thought pattern) and I’ll be better and life will return to normal. At other points the disease has already won and I’m planning my last good-byes, writing my obituary, planning my funeral.

Most of the time I’m aware of the disease, know I’m taking the steps that can be taken, and am at peace. Life is not normal. Concentrating for Latin or writing has not returned. Daydreaming seems to have a foreshortened horizon. I no longer imagine long projects like Superior Wolf or translating Ovid, finding a way to go on another cruise or start researching certain facets of Western history. Now my daydreams stop at tomorrow or next week, do not extend into the next decade. This is, I suppose, my subconscious reminding me of the predicament.

I do not feel anxious. I sleep well and, for the most part, am level and engaged, not wandering off to thoughts of doom or what might be. In my opinion I’m handling the situation, if not always well, at least honestly. Not sure what else I could ask of myself right now.

Faith and Spirituality, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science

Zombies

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Beltane                                                                         Closing Moon

Cancer still on my mind. This time the battle, war, fighting, struggle words so often attached to thoughts about it. Cancer caused 585,000 deaths in the U.S. in 2013. That’s a city, a whole city the size of Tucson or Milwaukee. From this social perspective perhaps a fight against or a battle against or a war against cancer makes some sense. That’s a lot of people to lose and war would be fought if some nation took out Tucson or Milwaukee.

On a personal level though, say my level, those militant words feel like the wrong metaphor. Cancer is not, in my body, an outside invader that has breached my defenses. No, it’s more like a group of deluded idealists, a utopian commune to which I (or at least parts of me) belong, dedicated to the concept of their own immortality. To extend this metaphor the commune might grow and grow and grow, taking resources from the larger population until everyone outside the commune starves.

Another metaphor might be mental illness. Gripped by the illusion that certain actions will make me live forever, I first cut off a foot and eat it, then a hand. Later, hungrier still, I cut off a leg. At some point there will be nothing left to feed the illusion, but the conviction remains and I take no other sustenance. Death results.

Cancer, of course, has no motive. It has no intention, other than survival. Yet, it is my own cells gone off on their own, to a different rhythm than the rest. As they grow, zombie like, staying alive when they should be dead, cancer recruits other cells to supply it. The host, me, must furnish more and more resources to keep the cancer cells alive. This process has a finite limit.

Cancer cells are more horror movie than battlefield. The first step, it seems to me, is to stop seeing cancer as an enemy and begin to see it for what it is, a deviation from normal cellular processes that left unchecked will slowly consume the host from the inside. It is not fear or violence that will put a stop to it, but careful application of known techniques like surgery (removal), chemotherapy and radiation (to stop the zombie cells). Will these techniques always succeed? No. Not right now.

Horror movies rely on fear for their effect. So do the metaphors of war. We need to back away from both and demythologize this monster. See it clearly. Then, deal with it.

 

 

Faith and Spirituality, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

An Enemy Within?

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Beltane                                                                           Closing Moon

No longer the same terrifying monster that stalked through my childhood and adult years, cancer yet demands careful attention. And, it kills.

No longer hypothetical for me, but a fact. Inside my own body, lodged in the core, lies a strawberry sized organ (mine’s a bit bigger) that now carries the seeds of my own apocalypse. I imagined I would feel my body had betrayed me, but no. Instead, if I understand it correctly, some of my cells have reached for that long held human fantasy of immortality. Oddly, if those cells reach their goal they will end their dream and me.

Yesterday I felt stunned when Ana, Dr. Eigner’s physician’s assistant, told me I had a positive biopsy for prostate cancer. So much so that her next words about the Gleason score came in my ears, rattled around hunting for understanding and failed. Later, in the book Eigner recommended, How to Survive Prostate Cancer by Patrick Walsh, they fell into place.

Cancer was what I had expected, given my PSA, the digital exam of both Dr. Gidday and Dr. Eigner and my family history. Dad’s prostate cancer at age 65. And, survival until age 89. Even so, the movement from hypothetical to real caused a reeling sensation that momentarily scrambled my thoughts.

Slept fine last night though there was, before I could get to sleep, a small fiery knot in my lower abdomen, a signal that I had unacknowledged fears. Through a trick I learned from either Carl Rogers or gestalt psychology I let this fiery knot speak to me. It spoke not in words as sometimes happens, but in a release of tension. Those fears needed acceptance, not repression. After that, sleep came and my dreams were usual.

On June 11th Kate and I will see Eigner for a long consult on what treatment option to take. After taking into account the pieces of information I have now and calculating that I have over fifteen years to live, I imagine radical prostatectomy, complete removal of the prostate, will be my choice.

Next up. Echocardiogram. Gosh.

 

 

Colorado, Mountains, Plants, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase

Colorado Natives

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Beltane                                                                    Closing Moon

Colorado Native Plants. The books are out and water stained: Colorado Flora, Colorado Noxious Weeds, Native Plants of Mt. Falcon. The also water stained plant list for Mt. Falcon has check marks for the plants I need to know. Went through about half of them yesterday, the other half today.

In studying the very specific nomenclature for plant identification, I got a new appreciation for medical jargon. In writing and communication with other doctors and nurses it is necessary to name the various parts of the anatomy with specificity. Otherwise, the wrong limb gets cut-off or the wrong organ removed.

It is a comfortable feeling to take out books, arrange them in a particular way so they can be referenced easily, to create a plan for learning what I need to know and then execute it. This is an ordered world, one I know well. A safe, predictable world. Today, I need that.

This paintbrush is a beautiful flowering plant, one you may already know, Castilleja integra, the Foothills Paintbrush. It’s in bloom right now, creating impressionist dashes of color as it flowers in otherwise green fields of cheatgrass and yucca.

Permit one thought on mortality. These plants in the foothills of the Rockies have long evolutionary histories, often involving millions of years and thousands of miles, some crossing continents as continental drift shaped and reshaped earth’s land masses. They grown on soil covering rock created in the Archean eon, preceded only by the Hadean. Plants, animals and one-celled creatures have been living and dying on the thin, fertile layer below them for millions of years.

Our own lives are part of that same living and dying, drawing our sustenance from the same thin layer. Yes, each individual life is unique and precious, but each individual life is also ordinary and unremarkable, life and death being not rare, but mundane.

 

 

Anoka County, Faith and Spirituality, Health, Our Land and Home, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science

they cannot and will not define my life

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Beltane                                                             Closing Moon

The closing process with dribs here and there. At the UPS store in Aspen Park, Lauren, in a turquoise UPS shirt, opened her book of notarial acts (not kidding) and recorded her work on our closing documents. I signed them in her presence. Creedence Clearwater played on the muzak. When I said, I like your music. She nodded, I’m 67. 68 here.

The closer wants a document we sent by USPS two weeks ago, a document we couldn’t fill out online. Why’s that? Anyhow I took a photo of it with my phone and e-mailed that to her this morning. Another hard copy goes in the mail today.

A lien waiver for work we had done to follow up the inspection report. None of this amounts to much, but after three months on the market and six with double mortgages everything related has an edge. Though. Glad to do it. Want this done.

Got an appointment for an echocardiogram next Tuesday. They’ll fit me with a Holter monitor, too. I’ll wear it for a month. This is the follow up to those episodes of shortness of breath and palpitations. Could be stress related, I suppose. Trouble is, I don’t feel stressed. Slept fine last night for example.

Then, in other news, I get my biopsy results tomorrow. You might image a scene from Mel Brook’s High Anxiety, but instead I’m calm. Yesterday, as I said, I was weary of all the threats to my life and with this weariness I felt a bit down, but that has lifted.

Exercise helps. So does having framed all this in the week after my physical. That frame puts all of it, the house closing, the prostate biopsy, the heart follow-up in life as it is, not as I wish it would be. The closing takes time and exacts small cuts, none fatal. The prostate and the heart, though each could be fatal, do not change my life. I can still read, laugh, love, plan, hope. They may define my death, though I hope not, but they cannot and will not define my life. However much of it is left.