Procedures and Goodbyes

All,

So sorry for letting another week go by, but I’m just going to get the blog out when I do; so here goes.

As I am writing, I am watching my right hand because it is covered in the most beautiful color of brown and white.  I want to show it to the world!  My supposedly uncreative sister came up with the most creative idea so far.  While we were on the beach, she and I were talking about tattoos that we’ve always kind of wanted to do, and unfortunately I’ve waited too long. The oncologist said, “ no”.  So, we were trying to come up with alternatives, and she found a henna artist in Cleveland on line.  We had 11 crazy hens and two boys who all got henna on arms, legs, and shoulders.  We look fabulous!  Even the hubby, who ran away screaming when we started, got his own little tattoo at the end of the evening.  What a star.  And while we rubbed off the black henna goop after so many hours, the color has darkened over the last three days to a lovely brown color, as seen above and below:

This was a perfect night to say goodbye to Katie as she was getting ready to leave for college the next day.  In the morning, she was ready.  The  car was packed and she had decided to go to leave around 1pm.  As the time came closer and passed, we realized that she was a mess, and she wasn’t ready to drive away at all.  In fact, she started out, and with her incredible wisdom, turned around after about 20 minutes and came back really to be with her brother; thank goodness they have each other.  This time gave us dinner with her, some silly TV to laugh at together (try Parks and Recreation!), time to talk and then a good night sleep.  She was much more ready to make the trip the next day, and she has reported in that she is happy and excited about sorority life and the new academics coming.  I’m so proud of her I can barely stand it.

We still have a week with our son, and he is just now getting all the things he needs to get done before the rising senior (oh, how did it happen so fast??) goes back to Maine.  He has the added distinction of trying to figure out what he wants to do with himself after college, a thesis requirement, and a final lacrosse season that he wants so much to make great.  I’m so proud of him I can barely stand it. 

Now, we have to make sure that my status is clear to them all the time.  That is a requirement they have made for us that we can do.  No more protecting them from things.  I know we have done that over the years, just trying to make their lives more “normal”.  But now that must end.  They are smart and able, and they have worked this summer on how to go back to school and who needs to know what is happening.  But, oh dear, this is hard.  I have had them around in a way I haven’t ever before.  They have been so close to me, and so present and mindful of what is happening that I will really miss them.  But I know where they are, and we are going to be talking, skyping, texting, whatever, so that I still feel them close and they feel me.

Oh, I forgot to talk about my procedure.  I had an outpatient procedure after returning from the beah to put in PluerX catheters into both lungs so that the fluid can be drained out my chest wall when it accumulates.  Not a very pretty thing to have sticking out on either side of your chest wall, but a wonderful way not to have to go to the hospital when fluid accumulates.  We have been draining the tubes about every three days, and the amount fluid has been decreasing, but it is amazing how much fluid is in there!  I’m very thankful for the catheters, but more thankful for Chip and Brent who are mastering the technique of draining these things! 

The good news is that with the drainage, my oxygen level is normal and I can do an outing or make some art during the day.  Yippee!  I am tired, and the nasty steroids both help and hurt my ability to function, but I am holding my own right now, and I can’t say grateful loud enough.  I am so excited to see my art sisters soon, I can’t tell you.  I have also received so much poetry, that I am astonished every day by new words and new ways to look at the world.  Thank you all for all you do for me!!

How about some poetry?  Maybe about kids leaving and Labor Day coming and times of REST……

Labor Day (Joseph Millar)

Even the bosses are sleeping late

in the dusty light of September.

The parking lot’s empty and no one cares.

No one unloads a ladder, steps on the gas

or starts up the big machines in the shop,

sanding and grinding, cutting and binding.

No one lays a flat bead of flux over a metal seam

or lowers the steel forks from a tailgate.

Shadows gather inside the sleeve

of the empty thermos beside the sink,

the bells go still by the channel buoy,

the wind lies down in the west,

the tuna boats rest on their tie-up lines

turning a little, this way and that.

Varanasi (Mary Oliver)

Early in the morning we crossed the ghat,

where fires were still smoldering,

and gazed, with our Western minds, into the Ganges.

A woman was standing in the river up to her waist;

she was lifting handfuls of water and spilling it

over her body, slowly and many times,

as if until there came some moment

of inner satisfaction between her own life and the river’s.

Then she dipped a vessel she had brought with her

and carried it filled with water back across the ghat,

no doubt to refresh some shrine near where she lives,

for this is the holy city of Shiva, maker

of the world, and this is his river.

I can’t say much more, except that it all happened

in silence and peaceful simplicity, and something that felt

like that bliss of a certainty and a life lived

in accordance with that certainty.

I must remember this, I thought, as we fly back

to America.

Pray God I remember this.

Remember (Joy Harjo)

Remember the sky that you were born under, 

know each of the star's stories. 

Remember the moon, know who she is. I met her 

in a bar once in Iowa City. 

Remember the sun's birth at dawn, that is the 

strongest point of time. Remember sundown 

and the giving away to night. 

Remember your birth, how your mother struggled 

to give you form and breath. You are evidence of 

her life, and her mother's, and hers. 

Remember your father. He is your life also. 

Remember the earth whose skin you are: 

red earth, black earth, yellow earth, white earth 

brown earth, we are earth. 

Remember the plants, trees, animal life who all have their 

tribes, their families, their histories, too. Talk to them, 

listen to them. They are alive poems. 

Remember the wind. Remember her voice. She knows the 

origin of this universe. I heard her singing Kiowa war 

dance songs at the corner of Fourth and Central once. 

Remember that you are all people and that all people are you. 

Remember that you are this universe and that this universe is you. 

Remember that all is in motion, is growing, is you. 

Remember that language comes from this. 

Remember the dance that language is, that life is. 

Remember.