Day 25 -- New Old Friend

I reconnected w/ a friend that I haven't seen or talked to in about six months.  It feels so wonderful to have this person back in my life.  I hate losing contact w/ friends even though I have lost touch w/ many over the years and even though I know it's a natural evolution for some relationships.  I think another positive by-product of my diagnosis is to not take any relationship for granted.  Enjoy the company and companionship of people as much as we can for as long as we can.  I'm not going to lose sleep when relationships "go south."  I don't need that stress or that drama.  I'm going to try very hard to keep positive people in my life.

On a physical note, my lower back is "catching" again.  Sometimes when I bend over at the waist, I have a shooting pain that feels like if I don't catch myself from bending all the way over, I'll just break in two.  I've had this pain before when I had some problem w/ some discs.  I hope that's all it is, and that a few trips to the chiropractor will set me right.  Since Rituxin is also used for Rheumatoid Arthritis, I can't believe this back pain is a result of it.

Day 24 -- Co-Exist w/ Cancer

No aches or pains today.  I've got a lot of people praying and rooting for me.  There has to be a connection b/w the two.  I almost made it the entire day w/o thinking about cancer until I went to my daughter's volleyball game where their opponents hosted a "Pink Out" night.  Cancer awareness is good, but I think cancer acceptance is better.  I don't mean that we accept the inevitability of cancer, but that we accept it as a part of our lives, learn to co-exist, and move on.  Stressing about cancer only gives it a stronger foothold.

Day 23 -- Wine-Down

Pretty much pain-free today, but rather tired.  I couldn't play tennis tonight b/c I had a Patrons of Fine Arts board meeting.   Sitting in a 90-minute meeting exhausts me more than hiking for three hours.  I actually dozed off this evening while watching Part Two of Ken Burns' film, Prohibition.  Nothing personal, Mr. Burns.  I think the weekend just finally caught-up w/ me..... must've been all the wine at my first "Wine-Down" of the school year.

Day 22 -- Silence of the Nodes

I decided after my blue day yesterday I needed to silence the nodes.  I walked the dog for an hour around West Lake Okoboji this morning, and then took a two-hour hike in Fort Defiance this afternoon.  And, just as I did last Sunday, I wrote a poem.  Well, it's more like an epic b/c, rather than stopping to write only once during my hike, I kept my pad and paper at the ready and recorded my experiences throughout the hike. 

The Hike
by Mari Miller Burns

The sentinel keeps the hill from sliding toward the ravine,
And gives me a hand-hold to steady myself on the descent.
Scarred and broken, she still stands strong.
I continue downward, glancing back to say,
"Thank you."
A labyrinth of logs await
Fallen to test my resolve.

Another sentinel, his head decapitated by wind or illness,
Has at the base of his trunk, shavings that carpet the earth.
Refuse of the creature who calls the headless hull its home.
I reach the creek bed, a mere trickle.
Choosing to clamber over rocks instead of trees,
My pace quickens, my eyes dart to where my feet are to follow.
No longer looking at the woods around me,
My mission is to follow one rock to the next, playing
A game to avoid soaked socks.

An impasse.
Pause on a rock to take a drink of water from my thermos.
"Nothing personal," I say to the stream.
Chart my course over the deeper, wider, faster waters.
A mosquito distracts me or guides me, not sure which.
I stop to listen, but my mind races as fast as its wings.
I need a translator.
"If you're going to tag along," I tell it, "ride on my hat and keep quiet."

Two small saplings serve as hand-holds while I once again ascend.
A snake-like vine, reminiscent of Jumanji, has strangled a tree,
And lost its life in the process.
Baby steps now as I follow a trail downward.
A yellow-tipped butterfly glides gracefully without need
Of traction or hand-holds.
The trail is temporarily lost as leaf 5047 joins her sisters on the floor.
A baby pine has been mauled, its tendrils surrounding the scar.
The rut has begun.
That explains why that doe stared at me as if I were competition.

The vegetation grows dense and just when my claustrophobia threatens,
I come to a clearing and a fence line.
The harvest hasn't begun here yet.
The blue, bulbous water tower helps me collect my bearings.
The mosquito speaks no more,
But the rising welt behind my ear speaks volumes.
I've seen that tree before, that rock looks familiar.
Panic creeps low in my gut.
I'm like a horrid power point that just keeps looping.

A bridge.
I know that bridge.
Just beyond that bridge is a steep path that will take me to
Almost exactly where I left the scooter.
Stop on the bridge to gather strength
And a few more sips of water.
Again, nothing personal.

No way to zigzag
The trail is vertical.
The wind offers me encouragement
Or maybe a swift kick.
A white arrow on a tree confirms my direction.
The only way out is up.

A bird laughs at me while the thumping in my ears
Beats like war drums.
One last look as I catch my breath.
The mosquito's cousin just died on my elbow.
Reaching in my pocket for the scooter key,
My hand wades through the skins of civilization:
Snickers, Fruit Roll-Up, Hostess Donettes.
Other hikers before me are obviously illiterate.

Day 21 -- Blue Day

I was a little blue today.  It hits me at the oddest times.  I was cleaning up the kitchen with my hands in dish water when the sobbing started.  I know I said I'm not afraid to die, and I still feel that way, but I'm not ready.  This is where the spiritual side of me says, "Everyone has to be ready for God could call each of us home at any time."  But the selfish side of me says, "There's so much more I want to see and do and accomplish."  I know I have a very good chance of living a long life, but I had a few more aches today than usual, and that seems to make me more melancholy.  Although the lymph node on the left side of my neck is significantly smaller, it still aches, and now the lymph nodes in my groin and in my armpits have started hurting.   I just don't understand why they're aching more after four treatments than they did before I ever had any treatments.  I hope this turns out to be like it is when I rearrange the living room furniture.  I have to make a big mess before I get everything back in order.  The aching does seem to lessen when I'm moving, or maybe it's b/c I don't notice them as much.  I do know that playing in the dirt this afternoon and watching my daughter's marching band perform tonight were good medicine. Too much time inside my own head is dangerous.

Day 20 -- Homecoming Parade

It was Homecoming at the high school in the town where I live.  What is it about marching bands?  They always make me cry.  Even when my daughters weren't marching in them, they still made me cry.  I feel a sense of nostalgia and a swelling of pride.  Is that weird?  Then sitting at the football game again watching my daughter in the marching band, I thought of the games that I cheered at and wondered if I'll be around to watch my grandchildren march in the band at parades and football games.

Day 19 -- Laughter is the Best Medicine

Today while listening to NPR on my way to my haircut, I heard about some research showing how humor is improving the lives of Alzheimer's patients.  I think they said the research was done in Australia, but all I caught was an interview w/ an Alzheimer's expert at Mayo Clinics in Rochester.  He said that people who are able to make light of serious illnesses respond better to treatments and have a better quality of life.  Guess I've been taking the right approach by making jokes about my cancer.  Apparently laughter is the best medicine.