Sorting Chrismas over the

I think we have more than enough.  Let us all be honest, I have always been a Christmas freak.  I love things that are different, unusual and not ordinary.  Over the years, especially during the Cancer Years, there has been neither money or time availability to go and seek out new things.  We have had to have small trees, fake trees, dog and cat and kid proof trees.  We have not had everything out in a very very long time.

This year we are taking the time and going through everything.  There were years we did not take down Christmas and things were packed in different boxes and they were missing their buddies.  There were probably  20  "Christmas" boxes.  To be a Christmas box all you have to do is have one such item in your hollow space and you are thusly marked.  I have done some boxes over the years, and the labels don't make any sense anymore. 

I am surprised at the memories invoked by the ornaments.  Only one from my childhood remains. Several given to me by family and friends over the years. Some from my Teaching years, Thank-you again, James, John and Judy.  Some to Mary-E. Some to me.  Some from me to Mary-Elizabeth. Some from Mary-E to me.  

It is a strange power a piece of glittery glass or a piece of colored and glued paper can hold.  Each contains the spirit of Christmas past and the power to carry those spirits forward.   I have come to realize how powerful those memories can be.  Some from BC (before cancer) some AC.  It seems mind boggling.  A Santa, a small ugly scary as hell Nutcracker head, a beautiful tree, a small old little girl.  It is all good.  

Like all things, it is worth spending a few moments with them.  Pondering if they will remain part of the regular line-up or be sent away for someone else to enjoy.  There will definitely be fewer boxes.  I do know it has been a good exercise to pull them all out.  All of them.  I have found very few duplications. Only filler ornaments, placeholders, space fillers but basically, they are unique, special and filled with great power. 

Back to work. Nine boxes filled, inventoried and numbered.  Two are Mary-E's for her new home next year.  It is all good. 

Been Dragging My Feet

For reasons unknown, I have not been able to make myself go to Children's Hospital with Wishing Rock Bags.  I have them packed, I have sorted, I have great new People Magazines, but I have not been able to go.  I plan it and then when it is time to leave, I take to my bed to watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians.  Yes, it is bad.  It can be very very bad.  

I had a million and one reasons for not going.  I was tired, I might have the bubonic plague, there is a terror alert, and I am on the top of the list. They won't let me in. The Seattle Guild Society was right, these silly little bags are meaningless. 
Then I had to go.  I made myself go.  I told someone I was going.  I had to do it.  And I did.
I went.  And I remembered why I do this.  I let someone tell me their story.  I listened to them, told them hospital survival secrets and let them know about Midnight Bacon. 

Something about the act of giving back and listening and just being there is so potent. We don't even have to know each other's names we just know.  We know the deep-seated fear, the questioning of everything that might have caused the issue. The wondering "WHY" no one found it earlier. The realization that no matter what you do or what you let them do to your children, it might not be enough. It might not work.  It does not work sometimes.  It might come back. The treatment might bring more cancer and an endless list of long-term side effects.  Knowing the fear never goes away.  Knowing the future is something other's can focus upon because we have just this moment in time.  

Life is so much more than what we had planned and more about what we can do this moment.  It's okay to watch your friend's lives continue.  Plans being made.  It is part of your stepping off the path.  

When I was in highschool, I read a Ray Bradbury short story about a man that returned to Dinosaur times to hunt.  There was required path, and you were only to kill the appointed Dinosaur.  It had been determined it would die soon and not affect the timeline.  This man stepped off the path and upon return he found a small glistening blue butterfly on his boot.  When the doors opened to return him after the hunt,

everything seemed familiar but were slightly off.  It was not the same.  It is never going to be the same.  No matter how hard we try and no matter how hard we pretend and no matter how hard everyone wants it to be the same, We stepped off the path.  

The only thing we can do is help those behind us.  
So.... I will consider myself cured of the plague, be kind to security and keep at it.  Besides, I'm almost caught up with the Kardashians. 

Rest-in-Peace....... Really

I suppose if someone dies in a war. Or if they lived a life of hardship and stress.  If they are from a country where bombs drop all the time.  Rest-in-Peace would be a great thing to say.  Simple, life-affirming, considerate. 

But... you can hear "the but" coming can't you.  
 BUT  I certainly am not tired.  I don't need to rest, except for nap time some days.  I have way too much to do.  I don't have time to rest.  I don't want peace and quiet.  I want to make a difference in this world. I want to make sure it is a better place than when I entered.  I want to find out stuff and learn stuff and grow stuff and read lots of good books and make up countless recipes and have wine on the deck, and the list is endless.  

I don't want to Rest-in-Peace.  I want to RIP through life knowing it is a precious and limited thing. If I feel like this at 60, I am sure the children we watch die, day after day have other plans.  Seattle lost another one on Sunday.  Ahmie Njie was only 14.  She was full of life and cancer.  They don't go to well very often.  Cancer is atrocious at getting along with its host.   It kills.  In unthinkable, painful, sad and depressing ways.  It takes so much with it when a young one dies.  
Ahmie is another victim.  One that touches each of us.  I didn't understand how it all worked until I was reading a book that talked about a quantum physics concept of "Quantum Entanglements."  There are those that believe particles in far reaches react with each other even when they are far far from each other.  Cancer Moms have the same thing going on with each other.  We connect when we share our stories, and we continue to feel the story as it proceeds.  We react. We respond. We reach out. We recoil. We feel.  The empathy runs deeps and long and reaches across the boundaries of the world.  

Ahmie's Mom chronicled her story and shared the ending with the world.  I don't have the ability to understand or know what Gienna is feeling or thinking right now.  I would not presume to have words or answers or even know the right questions to ask.  I do know there is an ache in my heart.  A need to take many deep breaths.  There is an empty place in the universe.  A void was left by a child that was not ready to rest.  She had too many plans and too many ways she wanted to RIP through life.  

We have become "Entangled".  

Mixed Blessings

Oh dear.  Lovely lovely day in Seattle. 

Beautiful morning, nice breeze, calm seas, great people.  How could anyone be sad or upset? You Ask.  We were there to remember Katie Elliot.  Someone that left because of Childhood Cancer.  Someone that fought a good fight. Someone that spent her short 18 years squeezing as much out of life as she could.  

We met, we talked, we re-connected.  We supported the kids that have survived. We cried with the Mom's and Dad's with less successful stories. 

Katie will never be forgotten. 

What a Difference a Moment Can Make

So, I have been dealing with some issues with some "kids" .  They are in the Millennium  generation or better known as the ME ME ME group that we have raised. This group was given way too many participation medals and pats on the back for mediocrity. Their tool box to deal with life in seriously deficient. 

 I remember my dad being upset when I mentioned there was not a dishwasher in my new apartment.  He was shocked that I would even notice.  I heard the lengthy "When  was a boy we lived in a Chicken Coop" recitation.  I then mentioned to him that we had never lived there and we always had a dishwasher, and electricity and plumbing.  He sort or looked at me funny and smiled.   He had not thought of that before. 

So now everyone has a cell phone, most of them "smart".  There are cars that are more than transportation.  They have a million I-things and flat screen TVs and fast computers and faster WiFi.  And we wonder why they are so flummoxed about hard work and responsibility. When and where would they have learned? We never gave them a chance. 

They want it all. They want it now. Everything is not enough.  And when that does not work, they are a bit miffed.  That is their bad press.  But there is a flip side to all of that.  They live in this moment.  The Dali Lama would be impressed with their ability to only focus on NOW.  Not a moment in the future or dwelling on the past, only the NOW.  Granted they need to worry a bit about kindness and giving back and things like that but they have the NOW thing covered. 

But you can get stuck in NOW. I am having a hard time seeing a future and making any plans.  I am stuck by Cancer World glue.  How dare I be so arrogant and make plans for something more than what we are doing today? How dare I believe there is a moving forward?  I have a hard time making plans very far out.  I know the bridge could go up as I travel over it. 

Cancer World takes lots from us. It also teaches lessons.  I am sort of slow on the patience and acceptance part of it.  Not happy when I don't receive answers of certainty.  I am sure they are not telling me everything and I have come to realize why.  Too much to know, too much to take in.  

Cancer World reshapes our reality and shrinks part of your world view.  You learn to focus on this issue, this moment, this point in time.  There is always a goal you are working toward but your life is peppered with the knowledge the bridge might go up at any moment. Any instant. Any nano particle.  

However, In physics, moment is a combination of a physical quantity and a distance.  

So I am going to work on thinking of NOW as a step.  A step in the right direction. 

I will work on really thinking about each moment being a step.

Its the "Word" Thing again.

Child having trouble breathing.

Child still in ICU.

Child with a tumor pressing on the end of the stomach.

Child with Relapsed Lymphoma.

Child with tumor growth.


What do we say?
What do we do?

I have racked my brain for days.  I am not one of those "Just buy a gift card" kind of person.  I know on some level it is the best thing.  Some money, a prayer, an encouraging note, a Coffee Card.  Heck I just found out there are McDonald Cards.  I know.  Write a note, put in a 20. Go on with my business. Easy.  I'm done. I have stepped forward and contributed.  The rest will work itself out. 

I want to give something special. I want to give something meaningful. I want to be of help and to take away some of the burden.  I want it all to go away.  But as many of us in Cancer World have learned over the weeks and months and even decades, there is really nothing that helps.   But darn it, there has to be something.  I hate limitations. 

I received news that Katie Elliot took her last labored breath this morning.  Talk about a "no words" moment.  Words won't make a difference to Katie.  Her family will no doubt find words not comforting, for a while because the pain is so excruciating.

I think the reason we are at a loss for words is because sounds don't adequately do the job.  A death is a time for silence, for deep reflection, for gazing out into space to try and connect with the molecules of the spirit.  It is a time to think about the great things the person did during her lifetime and what we learned from her.  

We all die. Some sooner than others.  The only thing that matters is what we do with the earthly time we have.  How many times do we smile, laugh, change another person's life in a good way?  What really matters isn't the balance of the bank account or how many bedrooms and bathrooms we have.  It is what we have done to effect some one's life. 

Everyday a good deed must be accomplished.  That is the important pile of stuff that needs to taken care of and stored and sorted and increased. 

Today we dedicate good deeds to Katie and her very sad mom Darlis

Thanksgiving and ThanksTaking

It is always a bit of both.  Give a little, take a little.  Leave a little. 

So we cooked.  People came. People ate. Food mounded on the table.  Our tiny turkey of only 21 pounds went on to feed the world. It took three days to do the dishes but what the heck.  Better to spend time together with Friends and Family then to have a clean house.   

For some reason I find I am doing lots of breath holding. But tests are coming and I am always afraid of what they will find.  I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. The one that will stick to the floor and not return. I know it is nuts to trust the Universe and also Nuts to not trust the Universe. Childhood Cancer is such a monster. A hideous multi-headed Medusa. Enough. So many kids did not make it to this Thanksgiving and more will be missing next year.  Losses just make it more important to keep going and gathering those we love close and closer. 

 Looking forward and not backward. Pretending there is a long future but know it is not the case for everyone.  So as the knives slip into their designated places, I plan for Christmas Eve.  Crab Bisque, Beecher Cheese and Tomato Soup.  Come one, Come all. Come for the adoration of the Soup Tureen. (We even found the soup bowls)  

War and Peace

My dad and I both loved good books.  Not the easy reads, the good books. The thinking books.  He read to me weird stuff when I was young.  He also loved poetry.  I am probably the first 5 year old to love the Charge of The Light Brigade or Robert Service poems about the far frozen north.  He and I both loved Pat Conroy.  I think dad had a similar childhood to the one that formed the story of the Prince of Tides.  No the details but the struggles.  

The last book we shared was Pat Conroy's My Reading Life.  It is a book about books. Books he loved, books he hated.  It as sort of life time book report.  One chapter is devoted to Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace.  Upon reading the book, Dad and I both decided to read War and Peace.  When he left the house after my December surgery, he promised we would both read it in 2011.   He only made it to January 3rd so I have forgiven him for not finishing it. 

I started and soon realized it was not an easy endeavor and stopped my efforts to watch 27 hours of the 1972 BBC production of the book.  Sort of the Clift note version.  I never would have been able to read it had I not done that first. 

I did read it.  I did read it and every single word.  I did so for three reasons.  

1. I told Dad I would and I always hated to disappoint him.  2. Pat Conroy loved it and I value him as a great American Writer. 3. Countess Tolstoy copied the book six times by hand.   

I read it during treatment.  Perfect book for Cancer World.  Slogging and endless and despairing and great loss are central to the story.  But in the end there is great love and satisfaction and happiness.  

Happy Birthday Leo....