healing haven

April 18, 2008

Questions for the Doctor

Filed under: memoir,Pythian Games — by thalia @ 3:04 pm
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Let’s see now.  What else should I ask?  Where’s that list?  Oh, yes, so far I’ve got:

 

  • Is it really cancer?  That word, cancer, sounds so unreal.  Mom and Dad had cancer so I guess it’s possible or probable that I would also.  Should that be the first question?  Well, it IS the first question. How can it not be?

 

  • How big is the tumor?  I didn’t even feel it or know it was there.  How can it have been growing inside me and I not know it?  Just like Mom’s brain tumors growing big and no one knowing they were there.

 

  • What, exactly, is adeno… adenocarcinoma of the uterus?  What a lovely sounding word, yet isn’t lovely to have.  ah-den-oh-car-sin-oh-mah    Just rolls off the tongue.  Could even be the name of a character in a story.  Adeno Carsin Oma was the grandmother (yes, the Oma) of five delightful grandchildren.  Oma loved to hold them when they were babies, but now they are growing up and don’t want to be held as much as to have stories told to them, particularly of the time when…

 

·        Could it be benign?  Or must it be malignant?  What will I tell everyone?  And coming too close after Sis’s operation for a benign but dangerously placed tumor near her pituitary gland.  I’m glad I had a chance to be with her during her recovery last month, but how will everyone deal with me having cancer right now?

 

  • How long have I had it?  Growing inside, like my fingernails grow, like my cells grow, like all the life processes go on inside without my awareness.  A part of me wants to just get it out quickly, yet… really… it is just doing what is its nature to do.  Grow, survive, reproduce, grow more.  Just like us humans as we take over the earth thinking we are the important ones…free to kill animals and destroy forests and oceans…Who has the right to be here? Or maybe we all have the right to be here in this world of  duality.  Maybe we are all struggling souls.

    

  • What is the treatment?  Treatment?  Is treatment necessary?  What exactly are we treating?  Something that will continue to grow and take over my body and all its processes.  Something that is doing what it is designed to do at the expense of the “me” I know.  So many other aspects of my body have changed over the years, is this the final change?  Or can it be altered?  What is the right thing to do?  I sure don’t know what is best for me spiritually.  What is “Thy Will”?  What is best for my spiritual self?  What lessons are yet to be learned?  From what choice?  What is “Thy Will”? 

 

  • Surgery?  Initial difficult shock for the body then 6 weeks of rest at home, then a long scar downmby belly.  If they can get it all, that’s the end of it.  No cancer and no more uterus. And after all my uterus has done for me – what a shame.  This seems to be the course for now and then we’ll see.  Six weeks of rest sounds good – a chance to meditate and mull and relax at home where I love to be, looking out at the garden and the clouds drifting by and the birds twittering and the butterflies and bees  as they enjoy the flowers.  

 

  • Chemo?  Radiation?  We’ll wait and see about these possibilities until after the surgery is completed and the biopsy results are back.

 

  • How long a recovery?  Is there ever a full recovery?  Perhaps physically, but how about emotionally?  I would think that experience stays with you forever, particularly if it becomes part of your personal growth.  And I would hope that something of this nature becomes an aware-part of personal growth.  What is the point of it all if not?  Part of the process of having us ready to move out of this world when it is our time.  Dying to live – living to die.  The only choice can be “Thy Will be Done!”

 

I guess that’s all the questions I can think of now.  I’m sure that others will come to mind as I listen to the doctor’s replies.  But I had better not misplace this list.  They say that you have just a few minutes of the doctor’s attention, so I want to have the essential questions ready–the important medical questions the doctor will think are relevant.  The rest is up to me and “Thy Will.”   

    

(see also http://pythiangames.wordpress.com/2008/04/18/questions-for-the-doctor/#comments)

   

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April 13, 2008

The Shape Shifter

Filed under: Pythian Games,SoulCollage — by thalia @ 6:50 am
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Who am I? Who am I really?  What is my essence?  She wondered as she looked at herself in the puddle reflection.  She saw a pale child soaring through the skies, totally in tune with the white horse with silvery outstretched wings.  The puddle rippled and stilled, revealing a young woman in flowing white robes and moonstones circling her neck floating amongst the stars.  Yet she knew she was now perched on top of the slow-moving green-brown box turtle, a tiny woman with earth-tone skin.  And yet again, she was the middle aged (some would call her a senior citizen or maybe even a crone) much larger woman of pudgy features and developing wrinkles.  So, who am I, really?  Could I really be all of those people?  Have I been all of those people or am I now all of them, able to shift back and forth? 

 

For years, she had been aware of her ability to sometimes appear one way and sometimes another.  But it seemed that circumstances called forth the transformation: perhaps a winged horse and angel rider appearing at her grandparent’s upper floor apartment window ready to take her for a midnight ride around the city and the church steeple; perhaps a squirrel calling her to enter the tree hole and wind up scampering on the branches while feeding on sunflower seeds; perhaps the vastness of the ocean drawing her forth into the mer-person to swim and soar in the deep waters; perhaps the sounds of the Space-Between and the Sight of Him enticing her spirit-wisp towards That Star;  perhaps…; perhaps…; perhaps… all those other times when her form changed in response to some stimuli.

 

Or perhaps, there was no need for the stimuli to generate the transformation.  What if that shape-shifting ability was within herself?  Perhaps she could just visualize and become the shape she needed for further growth.  

 

She knew she needed quiet time to explore this facet of her being: quiet time to reflect on the best way to use her talent and not to squander it.  A place for her to come to discover who she really was; a place that was a healing haven.   Perhaps Lemuria was that place.

 

(see also http://pythiangames.wordpress.com/2008/04/13/the-shape-shifter/#comments)

April 12, 2008

Dead-Nettle Mowing

Filed under: gardening — by thalia @ 8:14 am
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pict-dead-nettle

All the steady rain brought forth lush growth of grass embedded within areas of, what turns out to be, purple dead-nettle.  I thought for years that it was heal-all that brought the beautiful lavender flowers to front yards everywhere around here.  Then henbit was mentioned as a possibility. 

After taking a flashlight and going outside at 4 am to pick a few strands of whatever-it-is, I got online today and researched it .  Purple dead-nettle is what the plants really are, as evidenced primarily by its petioles (leaf stalk) attaching the leaves to the square stem.   It does not sting like regular nettles; hence, the name dead-nettle.   I read that the tops and leaves are edible, usable in salads.  But, unfortunately, it spreads from seeds which continue to take over the lawn – front and back. 

So the best way of dealing with it is to mow before the seeds get a chance to be formed.  So I mowed.  Not so bad in 70 degree weather.  It is when it gets to 90+ degrees that it is really a problem.  So much so that I always wonder if I will survive the mowing.  The backyard hill adds to the difficulty.   

So I mowed all the dead-nettle and stray wild onions that look like tufts of hair growing here and there.  And all the while I was aware of the burgeoning dandelions that were just out of reach, under the mower blades.  I envisioned them chuckling, just waiting for me to pass with the mower so that they could then surge upwards, going to fluff-seed before the next mowing. 

I’m sure they do it purposely; that the dandelions are in calhoots with the dead-nettles to get the most out of that first mowing of the season so that both not only survive, but propagate.  Dandelions use hiding and then bolting as their main strategy whereas the dead-nettles use the beauty of their lavender flowers to hopefully delay the mowing so they can go to seed.  They are beautiful, so it always works – at least in my yard. 

April 9, 2008

The Beach

Filed under: appreciation,healing,memoir — by thalia @ 1:57 pm
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The Beach

  

            I created a microcosm of the beach because of my love of the ocean shore macrocosm.  I lined the bottom of a 4-by-4 by 2-inch clear plastic lidded-box with sea-blue velvet material.  In one back corner, I placed a small blue ocean-scented candle to prop up a large sand dollar discovered on a San Diego beach when my son was married there at sunset in 1996, complete with musical ocean waves and a seabird choir.

            A few pieces of coral, jagged edges smoothed from my touch since acquired in Panama in 1961, reside near the long-pointed shell added two years ago from a California beach.  A smooth black rock with narrow white lines from Tintagel on England’s Atlantic shore, a small purple and white rock from the Arabian Sea beach at Bombay, India, a maroon rock from an English Channel beach, shells from the Atlantic Jones Beach, New York where I grew up, and a tiny shell from the Gulf Coast Florida beach all flow together to form my microcosm of where the ocean and the beaches of the world mingle. 

A tiny carved purple-stone turtle basks on a shell, representing turtles befriended over the years, from painted Red-Ear Sliders of childhood to recent box turtles.  Two small seahorses nestle among the treasures, reminding me of the three-inch dried seahorse found at Jones Beach when I was engaged in 1960, and of visiting the San Diego Aquarium with my infant granddaughter in 2004.

            Sprinkled over all is sand collected from many beaches.  The grains of sand flow together, just as all of my memories and experiences of beaches flow together in a collage of love: each distinct yet part of the whole.

            Two crystals from Arkansas remind me of the beauty which comes from beneath the earth, far from any beaches now.  That even here, when life feels confined to an office in Arkansas, far from any beach, I can lift the lid, inhale the scent of ocean, salt and sand; my imagination provide a magic carpet ride to the beach. 

                  – published in Story Circle Journal –

 

 

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