November greetings to everyone!
Last Saturday, the temperature was in the 50s and clear and
beautiful. I got a text from a friend asking me to go flying with him. Now, I have been putting him off for some
time now. I truly am not terribly
interested in going up in the air in a small plane. Nope, this is not on my bucket list. But I hesitated. The day was perfect without wind and sunny
and warm. I couldn’t think of a good excuse quickly enough, so he had me. He even brought me coffee, and off we went to
the county airport. He is in a flying
club, and when I saw the care he took while going through all the start up
checks, I knew I was safe with this guy.
In fact, I can’t think of anyone I would feel safer with than this
surgeon-pilot. He is precise and careful
in all he does, and he is the most capable man I know. We really can’t stand the guy. Here is the little Cessna we’re talking
about:
Isn’t she a beauty?
Look at that sky! I never knew
the number of dials and radio frequencies and levers and buttons in a small
plane, but he twiddled and pulled and checked and finally deemed us ready.
Off we went! We took
off East over our neighborhoods. We
avoided a small helicopter, finally found my Dad’s old school (ok, so it took
me a longer time than it should have, but this is a new perspective for
me….DOWN!), flew out over the lake (Erie, that is. It looks so vast from up here!), and landed
and took off at a small, unmanned airstrip out East a few times. Brendan clearly knew what airspace we were
always in, how to communicate with different towers, and how to be safe. The landings were pretty darn perfect, and it
was really fun to “touch and go” right back up again. Before I knew it, I was having a wonderful
time. Things look so lovely from up
above; all flaws are invisible from this altitude, and there is a wonderful
sense of peace.
Again, I shouldn’t be surprised that I was a little
overwhelmed by this experience. Remember
that “lean in “ thing? I have to keep
remembering this, but thankfully I couldn’t identify a good reason not to lean
into this, and another amazing experience wrote itself in my playbook. Thank you Brendan; I’m sorry I’ve been such a
reluctant co-pilot. Thank you, thank you
for this opportunity and for your skill and competence once again.
Having seen our slice of the world from several thousand
feet, I am happy to report that things look really good. The Chagrin river was flowing eagerly, the
woods looked thick and just clinging to its last leaves, and all seemed well
with the world for this hour. On that
note, happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Before Thanksgiving, I’d just been dragging and dragging
around trying so hard to feel better when I just didn’t. I even forgot to get my monthly shot that
strengthens my bones. I went back to get
that shot, and the nurse asked me if my oncologist wanted any other lab work
done. I asked her to get a blood count
as I have just not bounced back from radiation, and it had already been about 6
weeks. Well, I trust how my body feels--my
hematocrit was quite low. Ok, now I know
why I felt like lying in bed until Christmas.
I moved into the cancer center and got 2 units of blood, and the next
day, I felt a bit perkier. Thank
goodness or I would never have been able to get to all those recipes KT sent me
before Thanksgiving.
Oh, let me elaborate.
My wonderful, troublesome college freshman is having a fabulous first
semester in college. She called to say
she was very excited to come home and that she’d found a bunch of recipes that
she wanted to send home for Thanksgiving.
Great! I was excited to cook with
her (and perhaps I’d have some energy to do it too!). She told me to get all the ingredients, which
I did. Then she told me that it would be
really convenient if I could make some of the recipes ahead of time, as she would
be spending most of her time over break with her friends.
Now for all of you out there with 18 year olds, I suppose
this behavior can be called normal. She
was excited, enthusiastic even, about the idea of making great food for
Thanksgiving, but she was a bit conflicted about who would make it and how it
would all end up steaming and perfect on the Thanksgiving table. Take note, dear child, I will not be making
recipes ahead of time. Get your butt
into this kitchen if you want cornbread stuffing made from scratch, etc, etc,
etc!
The wonderful thing about Katie is that her sense returned
in spades. She helped me cook, we made wonderful food, and I died laughing just
being with her. She was also delightful
at entertaining my mother and her friend who came to dinner.
My mother lives independently in a retirement community
around the corner from us. She brought
her friend Betty to Thanksgiving dinner.
Mom thought Betty was 95, but after Betty came in and sat down, she told
us she will be turning 100 this year. Betty
was quite something; everything she said stopped us in our tracks. She was funny and pithy and delightful
throughout the evening. For instance,
during dinner Betty was asked her secret for long life. She said, “Oh there’s no secret, dear. I just wake up every morning ready for what
the day brings, and the years just accumulate. “ We thought about that one for awhile.
As my friend Jane said, everything Betty uttered could have
been used in a Hallmark card. On
further questioning, Betty told us that she has 4 great-grandchildren, all of
whom are in college. We had to stop and
think about that one, too! Final example-- after petting and kind of
mesmerizing the dog (which not everyone can do, by the way), she said,
“Sometimes the boy needs the dog more than the dog needs the boy.” We stopped and chewed on that one, and nodded
in knowing agreement. I certainly am
such a “boy”.
All of us, from 18 to 88, found ourselves completely
entranced by this tiny woman on a walker.
You know, you just never know where or when the little miracles will
show themselves. But we all recognized
that we had one in our midst. And
another thing—she just loves my mom.
They were completely adorable sitting on the couch talking after
dinner. What a blessing.
I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. I certainly did. I really feel that I have more things to be
thankful for every day. I know I have to
sit in that chair again and hold out my arm for yet another chemical mix that
might just stop the slow progression of this disease, but maybe it makes me
that much more aware of the wonders and blessings around me everyday: like
Betty, like the seven around our Thanksgiving table, like healthy, happy kids, like
great friends, like mom and my sister, like the dog who knows when to glue
herself to my side, like a new friend wanting to take pictures of Katie and me,
like art and writing and poetry, etc, etc, etc
On that note, how about some poetry:
Thanksgiving
(Lynn Ungar)
I have been trying to
read
the script cut in these
hills—
a language carved in the
shimmer of stubble
and the solid lines of
soil, spoken
in the thud of apples
falling
and the rasp of corn stalks
finally bare.
The pheasants shout it with
a rusty creak
as they gather in the
fallen grain,
the blackbirds sing
it
over their shoulders in
parting,
and gold leaf illuminates
the manuscript
where it is written in the
trees.
Transcribed onto my human
tongue
I believe it might sound like
a lullaby,
or the simplest grace at
table.
Across the gathering
stillness
simply this: "For all
that we have received,
dear God, make us truly
grateful."
I Go Down To The Shore (Mary Oliver)
I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall—
what should I do? And
the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do.
