Spring and the Mesa View Moon

Thursday gratefuls: #8 and last radiation session. Diane. Tom. The Ancient Brothers. Kat, who’s reading the book. Kate, my sweet soul companion. Jon, a memory. Breezy. A bit of sway in the Lodgepoles, the Aspen Buds red at Branch tips, waving to their neighbors. Sun bright. Sky blue. Clouds white and fluffy. Resting heart rate down to 63 bpm. Good sleep. Luke, who has the psilocybin. Leo, his dog. Kep, of blessed, sweet memory. Breakfast out. A treat.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Simcha

One brief, shining moment: Simcha-a Hebrew word that always reminds me of the Lion King or Tarzan comic books- means joy, said to be by the sages a spiritual obligation and I wonder how that can be, then how sublime always seeking and finding the wonderful, the awesome, the delightful within and without, what a marvelous way to live!


Yesterday I spoke the truth, but it was maybe not the best thing to say. At Anova for #7 radiation. A guy came out in the blue drawstring pants. A slight belly, a round mellow face, taller than me. They’re ready for you. I have to drink more water. Ah. I remember that. How far along? 34  out of 35. But you’ve had this before and you’re back? Yes, it doesn’t always work.

Ooops. This guy’s there with his wife, both wearing Toronto Blue Jay fan shirts. She’s a beauty. Smiling, gray hair. A sort of woman that appeals to me. No makeup. Supporting her guy.

I went on back. Ordered up Patsy Cline. Laid down with the red laser markers converging near my chin as she comes on: I’ve got your class ring that showed you care, and it still looks the same as when you gave it dear, but I’ve got your class ring and she’s got you.

Robocop/Cyberknife/Dalek lurches into position, the apertures click open, click closed. I’m thinking what can I say that will make that less dispiriting.

A lady I don’t know comes back and tells me to wait while she lowers the table. They lift you up as the priests did the omer and lambs in the Second Temple.

On my way out the Toronto Blue Jay is on his feet, ready to become the next one on the altar. Many sacrifices this day.

Hey, dude. I didn’t mean to bum you out. Pointing at myself I said, somebody has to be on the thin end of the bell curve. You’ll fatten up the middle. He and his beautiful wife laughed. Maybe just a bit too much. Did I just reinforce what I’d said? Don’t know. Out of my control. But I did what I needed to.

As these radiation sessions come to an end for me, I realize they’ve taken an emotional toll as well as a physical one. They have been, for three weeks, a reminder that I’m wrestling with what I called earlier the intimate assassin, an assassin that has already breached the castle gate, and waits inside for its moment.

Usually I have these reminders every three months, when I have blood drawn and then visit Kristie or Dr. E. I’ll be glad to go back to that schedule.