A journey to a gentler Yes

I'm leaning on the photographic vision of my friends Ali & Tony once again.... an "angel" in the clouds from their recent holiday in sunny Madeira..... a much brighter climate than the current wintery cold in the still glorious Scottish Highlands. 

After my 48-hour journey through embracing the desolation of my leukemic options, after giving myself permission to consider the emotional truth of "I have had enough," I met again with Dr. K. and found myself shifting with quiet grace into a space of, "I can move into the next steps of Western medicine in a spirit of acceptance and peace." 

My initial diagnosis and nearly immediate hospitalization of October 27th was a panicked blur, my blood counts plummeting while the blasts were rising towards the 50% mark. Today's blessed yet ticking clock remission has given me permission to think as well as to let my emotional body have a voice and not a small amount of wailing sobs. I read the blog postings in the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society pages; I re-read various cancer sites' descriptions of Consolidation treatment and bone marrow transplants. I pondered 'the numbers' I could barely acknowledge over a month ago. They're not particularly inspiring. I didn't try to psych myself into Being Good. I allowed myself this willingness to die with more dignity than I'd imagined in a hospital setting. I phoned some close friends and cried. And this afternoon I found a shift that feels as authentic to my being as my heels dug in the sand resistance.... a shift that says today, "Well. This could be interesting. Let's give it a shot."

I was also told by Dr. K. that neither Consolidation nor the process of a bone marrow transplant would be as difficult (read = gut-wrenching and challenging) as the Induction I recently experienced in my 25 days in the hospital. While chemo is part of this upcoming treatment, I may well get a lesser dose rather than a stronger one as can be the case. Less chemo with the same shot at Good results!? They can even bring an exercise bike into my room, I am told. Talk about coaxing a shy kitty cat out from under the house with a plump piece of chicken or fish! 

Still, there are no guarantees. I'm going back into the hospital next Wednesday, Dec. 10th while I am still in remission. I will be there for roughly another 3 weeks.... through Christmas, probably until the New Year. Waiting until I relapse (e.g. the return of the blasts) is not preferred. I'll be under a new oncologist's care at a different hospital - the "Ashby campus" of Alta Bates Hospital in Berkeley. Consolidation will "buy time" while we go through the hoops in search of a matching bone marrow donor. The chances of surviving that treatment run in the neighborhood of 40-50%. I am also told that my present insurance company will not be a chirpy friend about various continued stages of what may well entail the next 12 months of treatments. Sadly, that is not a typo. My gut tightens to write it. I breathe; I pause; I am back into the consciousness of manageable bites because that is the best I can do.

I'm shooting for a year without relapse.... and then more. If I live to the 5-year mark, I believe I am considered "cured." Talk about showing up as best I can for "life on life's terms" with absolutely NO control over the results.... other than asking for more of YOUR prayers, candles, good thoughts, breaths. I am not sitting here in remission by chemotherapy alone. My home prayer flags - the cards adorning my walls here - remind me of an interconnectedness of love that yanks me out of the illusion of my aloneness and into holy belonging. 

I'm fifty-two today. I assumed without fanfare that I had another 20-30 years. Shortly before my growing fatigue turned into AML, I was distracting myself with treating the age spots on my hands (yeah, I confess) and wondering about Botox.... about working out more and tightening up those flabby thighs. Of course exercise, a healthy diet and positive outlook on life are 150% important, yet I've taunted myself all of my life needing to be better, which is code for a dearth of self-acceptance. Life in Christian community, in my 12-Step rooms, in the lives of precious friends.... all have coalesced to bring a greater peace even while the ever-present niggly-bits gnawed away. I'll think of death later... 

No, we'll think of it now.... and a life worth living, one day at a time.

So I'm giving it another go, this time with a deeper sigh of peace. For those of you who have prayed for my clarity and serenity the past two days, BLESS YOU a thousand blessings.