Encore

I am stuffing envelopes at work (stimulating work if I do say so myself. I'm grateful to have this work - in Silicon Valley, it's called marketing.). In between envelopes, I am typing these words. I've had some issues brewing from this past Saturday, and other days in-between. I've been taking some time thinking about these issues rather than just spewing words on a page - my usual m.o.

A couple of slightly *interesting things (*in my estimation) -- I belong to the local freecycle and read lots of ads. I've placed ads offering items as well (and if you want, I'd gladly give you something too). I acquired a medium-sized dog crate (for free!) for Bella through freecycle. It's really a great resource, everything's free and it's recycling. Recently on my freecyle there was an ad for a "white girls desk" which made me laugh, thinking that only a white girl could claim the desk. Eventually a white girl probably took it.

Then another small thing came up yesterday while changing my ticket, flying to Oahu from Sah Hoseh (San Jose) in November to February (20feakin11!) (to visit my son) in order to accommodate care issues around mom's upcoming hip replacement.

I read on the Hawaiian air website a note:


You cannot select Hawaiian Coach Plus unless you've selected it for both legs.


I read that sentence and got defensive about my lymphedema. My legs can fit on one plane!


I guess I was still on a roll from that "white girls desk."


I work as a volunteer peer-counselor through Womencare to assist women newly diagnosed with cancer. Our peers our pre-selected for us by the people at Womencare. We've gone through training etc. I have been meeting with one patient for months now. I saw her this past weekend. I will call her "Mabel" mostly because that is a hysterical name.


Initially, (I believe) like so many cancer patients, Mabel had herself dead and buried almost as soon as she heard the diagnosis. She contemplated her funeral, how much she'd suffer, the loved ones left behind. She was fearful walking the path of the great unknown (sorry, couldn't resist that line). She and I would meet at Peet's in Capitola, and talk for hours, talking in-between people interrupting our discussions so they could pet Bella, ask if Bella was a corgi, ask if Bella was a puppy, ask if Bella could be petted, exclaim that Bella was the only corgi puppy they'd ever seen! and if Bella was a sweet lamb, and where could they get a corgi? 


We started our meetings pre-Bella though Mabel was a real trouper to put up with all of the puppy nonsense (as am I) - she must have really been desperate for a, caring, yet still listening ear. This last weekend revealed a change in Mabel's attitude. She told me that she wanted to return to work at least part time because after all the hubbub, fuss and nightmare of a cancer diagnosis, she's realized that in all these months, she. is. still. alive. and needs to live because she's alive. Pinch me, Hay Seuss! 


Early on in our meetings, I'd hear Mabel's desperation and resonate with her self-pity. I told her to try not to forget that she is alive right now. I told her (please) try "not to bury [yourself] on a daily basis," something of which I was often guilty.


When we are in turmoil, we catastrophize the present when in that present moment there is no disaster  -- except that you're losing that moment to the thoughts of a lunatic (you!!). I don't know a cancer patient who has not done this. I don't think I know a human being who has not done this. So I was really pleased that I got to witness the change in Mabel's attitude over a period of months. Even if Mabel dies tomorrow or next week, she has a lot of living to do in this moment, today.


Monday I learned that Christine, who's blog I read, and who occasionally commented on my blog, died. I like to use the word died because passed away seems so sweet and kind and there's not a lot of kindness in a blood clot. Christine was a year younger than me. She had metastatic breast cancer. Once on her blog she wrote about my blog, a lovely short tribute. She said (wrote) that I was ballsy and inspiring - I felt the same about her. Christine knew she would die of cancer. She even wrote her own obituary. Talk about balls. Courage.


So in honor of Christine's short life, and Mabel willingness to live as much of her life as possible now -- in those moments you find yourself catastrophizing, while you still have time, imagine having to write your obituary. Remember -- be ballsy and inspiring because Christine admired those traits in a person. And don't bury yourself every day because just like Mabel, you still have some time to live it up.