FIVE-YEAR OUT FROM CHEMO COMING UP

 I thought I was pretty cool with this cancer thing. I mean--I exercise, right? I garden, new phrase is GMAO--Gardening  My Ass Off"--I am on a keto eating plan, mostly vegetarian, because it seems to help my Peripheral Neuropathy, and it definitely helps with my stamina and energy. I have a strong faith life, despite not having been in an ACTUAL CHURCH since last September, but I do Zoom church, UCC; Catholic Mass, live FB feed; and Alden Baptist Church, both Bible study and Sundays when I can, with the dynamic and beloved Pastor Love. Plus which I have the most darling, supportive, and loving husband in the world. You'd think all of this would keep me on the steady road, right?

 

Wrong. About 1-2 weeks ago, I realized I was beginning to get nervous about this "cancer thing." Like--when is my next Oncology Appointment? Do I have to do another CAT scan before it, as well as another blood test? Will they tell me for sure that I am 5-years out in Remission? (That "cancer free" phrase makes me seriously nervous and nauseous, like tempting God, so not gonna use it.)

(I can hug the stuffed cow in Baystate's Blood site in Northampton!). The way I knew I was getting a bit wobbly is this:

--I suddenly decided I needed to start wearing my religious medals again. After a long, scatty search for my silver St. Michael's medal--not to be found, remember the "scatty" part?--I ordered a new one from The Catholic Company. 

Then I unearthed my St. Peregrine's medal which I managed to fasten around my neck (why in hell do they make those clasps so damn small? Don't they know about aging fingers?), which made me feel better immediately. In case you don't know, St. Peregrine is the patron saint of cancer patients. I also have a tiny statue of him (he has a bad leg, wrapped in a bandage) which I have on my bureau. I find this rather reassuring in a way, because it reminds me that we all have wounds--hidden or not--and many of us are limping slightly towards the end of the pandemic.

 

--I then developed a sudden need for wearing a hat, because, as we all know, when you are feeling nervous, a hat is a good thing to do. I have a black Kentucky Derby hat, quite fashionable (who cares if it is over already?), which I ordered during chemo 5 years ago.

 I may wear it this week when I go to meet a friend at Bread Euphoria where we shall have a funny and informative discussion about which foods we can and cannot eat. Let's hope the "can" list is way longer than the "can't" list. Praise God chocolate is on my "can" list in the keto dining plan.

--I realized that if I am heading towards the end of my life (we all are, just some of us sooner than others), I may need to up my charitable contributions so God will cheer when I step over the threshold to the next life, instead of blanching, turning her head, and making the sign against the evil eye. I give to 3 churches, often contribute money to Catholic Charities and the Survival Center, but this time--after reading about the stupid state legislature of Idaho, GOP of course, and how they are appropriating over $500,000 to slaughter wolves in any fashion people prefer (including snowmobiles and ATVs)--I had to give money to the Ecological Diversity site to protect wildlife. And seriously: WHO doesn't like wolves and know they are essential to balancing out wildlife?

 

 I cannot understand how people don't see there is no such thing as an "us" and a "them," or that there is wildlife we don't care about compared to those we do. (Cows? Puppies? Salmon? Goats? Cats?) We are all one spirit, made from stardust by the same God who creates every single person, every form of life on earth. Yes, even including ticks and viruses.

 I realized that wearing the religious medals, thinking of putting on my fashionable hat, and giving money to help protect wildlife all helped me to feel steadier and less wobbly.

To cap my strategies for being stronger, I then had a marvelous conversation with my dear cousin over FT (Have you reconnected with others in a way you let go before the pandemic? We have.), and she brought up the cross. That one, the one of Jesus, and how hard it was to talk about it. Protestants find this harder, as in Protestant churches you just have a bare cross with no bloody body on it. Catholics are used to the hanging body and how Jesus embodies suffering and coming through to the other side.

 Truly, it would have been easier to talk about sex toys and our monthly budgets (not that we have one) than to talk about suffering and death. (Her mom and dad were both ministers.) But having been to hell and back on a number of occasions in my life, I am a friend of suffering. Maybe not death, not yet anyway. ("Would I rather have death or cake?" as Eddie Izzard asked.) It doesn't scare me. I know who I am walking with; I know who holds my hand; I know who weeps with me, then laughs with me at the end as I cook God a vegetarian keto meal and pour her a crisp, cool glass of SB. Just imagining pouring God a glass of good wine strengthened me.

So, friends, I hope your days are going well, that you are getting out and about, finding more joy in your life, seeing friends, and maybe eating inside at a restaurant. Alina's for us! And to close, let's paraphrase what the wonderful Henri Nouwen once wrote:

"If we could only imagine, when we are crushed like grapes, the wine we would become." I am about a Malbec right now from Argentina, not that I drink often, but every now and then. Salut!