Of Poetry and Art and Chemo

Ok, I'm sitting here in the chemo chair again, and I'm trying to feel gratitude.  But I don't.  I feel like throwing something through the beautiful new windows here in the beautiful new cancer center's infusion center.  My seat heats up, which is fabulous for this cold girl, but it doesn't really make up for being here.  The view is nice too -- I see the gorgeous church across Euclid and the top of the crazy Gery building sparkling in the sunshine.....maybe that helps a little.  My old chemo nurse Lee walks up to take care of me, and I burst into tears.  Ugh, this is even more loaded for me than I thought.  I am an idiot; of course it is!  I have just been trying to ignore that the whole thing is happening. In some ways, I have even convinced myself that I am looking forward to this day, as I haven't been feeling great and I know I need the chemo, but I have been in these seats--old cancer center and new-- too many times.  Even though the sun is shining in these big windows, I am in a dark place, and this recognition has awakened in me a bit of violence.  Thank goodness I didn't meet a breast cancer chemo "newbie' wearing pink; I might have thrown her out a window.  Isn't that mean?  Ugh.  The peanut butter crackers are helping a little, though.

And I got lots of help, and I needed it.  The infusion, as usual, takes much longer than the reported half hour.  My labs need to be checked, the doc needs to weigh in on doses if labs aren't perfect, which mine are not, and there just is more to do than just hang a drug; therefore, i have lots of time for lots of people to swing by.  I am usually quite happy sitting by myself, typing, reading, watching something on my computer.  Today, Lee picked up on lots of need and contacted the appropriate people.  I know my oncologist and I had talked about pulling in the palliative care people to work on all the weird neurologic symptoms and pain I had been having from the tumor that was radiated in my neck, but I hadn't met them yet.  So in walked the palliative care NP, who was thoughtful and lovely--therefore i wept crazily for her too....oh well.  I told her how much trouble I had had with weird pain that scared me and adjusting all the meds when I was feeling loopy, and she listened (that is such a wonderful thing), and she helped.  I left with some medication changes, but more than that, I left with a life line if pain is a problem. Lovely.

And then, in walked my friend Sally who is a minister and works in the cancer center as the pastoral care director.  She also is so nice, she makes you cry.  Or she makes me cry.  But she is also upbeat and supportive and encouraging. You know, I left forgetting that I had even had the drug dripped into me.  I left feeling that I had been heard and loved, and I was able to walk out of that dark place.  I have to say, I get great care.  I clearly have needed a place to grieve about all of this, and I don't feel like I can allow myself to do this very easily at home.  So I watered the floors of the cancer center....and felt much better.  Just as all the nurses and docs told me, I haven't experienced any terrible problems from this chemo so far, and I actually feel better today, the day after chemo, than I have in a long time.  Clearly our heads need to be cared for as much as our bodies, or perhaps better said, health and healing really depend on taking care of the whole person.  Such a duh!  But I'm always amazed at the power of our heads to help us or hinder us from healing.

I want to go back a little and talk about a little party  that took place a few nights ago.  A group of friends got together to support me before chemo started, but there was a twist.  We all had to make an artist trading card, a small blank card that could be adorned with writing or paint or collaged paper, and bring a poem.

Now I have a small group of friends who would identify themselves as "art-friendly" without too much prodding, and others who would not.  But friends came and valiantly stretched their artistic bones amidst much laughter and wine.  We had a wonderful time.  When we sat down to read the poems, I was a bit overcome.  So many of them I have heard before and love,, and others were new and delicious....some funny, some not.  But all seemed to cut through all the crap and say a clear, "I love you" in their marvelous way.  Went home and wept about that, but did a good job of keeping it all together while there!  I am getting some help putting poems and trading cards on our original canvas:

Here are all the trading cards people created:

And finally, how about a selection of those wonderful poems?

Introductions (Moya Cannon)

Some of what we love

we stumble upon—

a purse of gold thrown on the road,

a poem, a friend, a great song.

And more

Discloses itself to us—

A well among green hazels,

A nut thicket—

When we are worn out searching

for something quite different.

And more

comes to us, carried

as carefully

as a bright cup of water,

as new bread.

Sonnett XXIV  (Pablo Neruda)

You are the daughter of the sea, Oregano’s first cousin.

Swimmer, your body is as pure as the water;

cook, your blood is quick a the soil.

Everything you do is full of flowers, rich with the earth.

Your eyes go outward toward the water, and the waves rise;

your hands go out to the earth and the seeds swell;

you know the deep essence of water an the earth,

conjoined in you like a formula for clay.

Naiad; cut your body into turquoise pieces,

They will bloom resurrected in the kitchen.

This is how you become everything that lives.

And so at last you sleep, in the circle of my arms

That push back the shadows so that you can rest—

vegetables, seaweed, herbs: the foam of your dreams.

From ee cumings:

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the

leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue true

dream of sky and for everything which is natural,

which is infinite, which is yes. 

cheers!

Lissa