Does how you live influence how you die?

My "Crazy Cancer Club" is getting smaller.  It was a small club to start with, really just four of us.  Amy died in December after a 14 or so month fight with a relatively rare, very aggressive form of cancer.  Now, another member is making the transition, after a three year battle with ovarian cancer.  If I were to vocalize my gratitude for today, it would probably be "I'm grateful that I had breast cancer, given the other options out there."  Yep, that would be it, I think.  Breast cancer is not a walk in the park; it frequently causes death; it's also not as bad as many other forms of cancer.

Yet, the times I've visited this particular friend as she's been in hospice the last few weeks, over in the 18 months I've known her, I've learned a lot from S.  While the vast majority of us don't get to choose how we die, we do have the opportunity to lay the groundwork way before the inevitable event.  This is probably the biggest lesson I've learned from S. 

No matter what we've talked about, even with the inevitable conversations centered on the side effects of the drugs that we take to combat side effects (OK, I'll just be blunt here: when cancer endurers get together, we frequently talk about poop, too much, too little, too soft, too hard; it's a never ending battle) or if we talked about other indignities, S always, always, always remained upbeat.  Even when I visited her in the ER one night when her port was infected, before I could ask her how she was doing or what the medical plan was, she was asking me about me.  Did I manage to get my kid started on his homework?  Yes, two hours earlier I'd mentioned that one of my kids had procrastinated on his weekend homework and I'd have to be getting home to monitor that.  S had bacteria in her port, spreading through her body, making her ill, and she wondered if my son had started his study guide!  I don't think S had even met this particular child.  She doesn't have children of her own, yet her first thought was of my child. 

Today, I found out that S had 47 visitors yesterday!  I'm not sure I can remember the names of 47 people, let alone get 47 people to leave their warm homes on a gray day in late February when a winter storm is being expected.  Forty-seven friends and family members, though, trooped out, in dribs and drabs, to show their love for S.  They had no way of knowing if she was having a good enough day to even see them, yet they went.

I've now met two of S's siblings, sisters, and a high school age niece.  Even in these trying times, they are able to smile, laugh, and be supportive, not just of each other and S, but of others as well.

Many of us fear dying.  And why wouldn't we.  It's something we haven't done before, and unknown experiences are frightening.  Many of us claim to know what happens after death, but I don't think any single one of us can say for sure what the mechanism of "after death" actually entails.  Rightly so, then, dying is something we can justifiably look at with less than enthusiasm.  Even more than dying, though, I think many of us fear dying alone.  Hospitals and nursing homes are full of people who are in the process of doing just that.  Many times, we say things to the effect of, "It's sad he/she is alone, but he/she made that bed and now has to lie in it, sad as that might be."

In essence, we all do die alone.  It's a solitary endeavor.  No one can experience it for us.  The most that can be done is to help us alleviate discomfort and show us love.  The transitioning can be assisted, but ultimately, we transition by ourselves.  Yet, I can't imagine that no matter how we approach this transition it can't be made better by having others involved for support.

Throughout her life, S has made great connections to her family and community.  She's kind, caring, generous, and supportive of others.  My guess is that they way she has lived her life, for how many years she's been living it, she's been a good person. Oh, I'm sure she hasn't been perfect.  In fact, I've heard her say a few snarky things.  I'm sure that she and her siblings fought as children.  She's probably done some not nice things.  Every one has and does.  Yet, I'm also sure that S is leaving the world having made it a better place than how she found it.

There's no denying that personality and lots of other variables play a huge role in all of this conjecture.  I'd by no means want to be misunderstood:  we shouldn't be nice or good for selfish reasons.  However, I really do think that we can learn a lot by knowing people at the end of their lives.  Good begets good, some times.  Luck and circumstance certainly play a role, but S is not dying alone in large part because she's lived a good life.  We all are better off for having known her.  People who haven't had the opportunity to know her are better off for her having spent time on earth simply because others are better people.  Her nieces and nephews have that much more goodness within them because of the love she's showed them.  Her siblings now have the opportunity to share some of her goodness to others, whether they know it or not.

As humans, unless we are true hermits, we influence those around us.  The world is either a better or worse place because of our actions and inactions, whether large or small.  We all do make a difference.

In the case of S and her current transition, what goes around comes around.

And that's what I've learned from S.

Go in light.  Your light shall perpetually shine here.

Life in the "Normal" lane

So, I've been absent from here for a while. It's not that I haven't thought about blog posts. In fact, I regularly compose them in my head. It's not that I don't sit down at the computer any more. Those of you on facebook know that's certainly not true.

I don't really know what it is that keeps me from blogging, other than it is harder and harder to sustain the intellectual energy required for longer pieces of discourse. I can snap off facebook updates easily, probably too easily. Certainly, I do that too frequently. However, crafting and sustaining coherent larger pieces of discourse just seems beyond my capabilities lately. In fact, I'm barely able to sustain coherence long enough to get the writing done that I need to do for work.

This is partially due to my cognitive capacity being damaged from chemo, for sure.

But even more so, I think it is due to the fact that there have been so many changes lately, over the past four months or so.

For one thing, I'm back at work, so I have to expend energy in that direction. More on that in another entry. For another, I'm going to bed a lot earlier, with the exception of tonight. For yet another, I've been getting up earlier in the mornings, but I'm not yet capable of figuring out what to do with myself during that time, being newly converted to being awake during the early hours. Furthermore, I'm no longer watching much tv, which is when I used to do quite a bit of writing. I just can't bring myself to watch tv any more. Sort of like those people who eat a favorite food to the point it makes them sick and then can't eat it any more, I no longer can really tolerate watching tv any more. I don't even have much of a desire for any of my favorite shows, to the point I can't even order the dvds from Netflix. I'm also using quite a bit more time exercising, so that detracts from the time I used to be able to devote to my blog. In fact, it's not unusual for me to be physically active for two or more hours a day. For instance, last week, I met a friend and ran in the morning before going to teach, taught from 9:30-2:30, then did a 2 hour bike ride, and went for a pedicure. Sure, it was only 7:00 by the time all of that was finished, but when one is typically heading for bed by 9:30 or 10:00, there just doesn't seem to be enough time to blog.

And I do miss it. I compose entries in my head whilst running and biking. I will admit that I don't while in the midst of the exercise classes I've been taking. Mostly what runs through my head during those is not fit to be printed where it might be read by those with tender sensibilities. Maybe those who have survived basic training in the military could read it, but the rest of you are probably better off without.

But the changes a friend asked me to write about, the new normal, are still becoming apparent.
For one, I no longer enjoy or crave animal flesh. While not by any means a vegetarian, I certainly won't go out of my way for meat and rarely consume it. In fact, last week, I made lasagna for Sunday evening dinner and bought the Morningstar Farms version for myself because the idea of the meat in the lasagna just turned me off at a deep, visceral level.

Second, I'm really enjoying life quite a bit and I'm generally not being bothered by little things that used to bother me. When I am bothered by little things, those kinds of things that really don't matter in the grand scheme of things, I'm much more aware that I'm being bothered by silliness and recognize it for what it is.

Third, I have gotten quite a bit stronger. In March, I could barely sustain 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes. Last week, I ran 4.5 miles without any walking and wasn't tired. I stopped because my feet hurt and because my back hurt. OK, so "ran" is probably a misnomer for what I did. But I can certainly say I was truly "jogging."

And, finally, as of today, I've officially dropped yet another pants (jeans) size. That's about 7 sizes in two years and probably 50 lbs in the past....um....15-18 months.

But really, I have a lot more musing rolling around in my head, and someday, I'm sure I'll sweep them into a corner, sort them out, and turn them into something sharable.

I promise.

But meanwhile, off to bed.

Words to live by...

I found this in my friend Marti's blog today.


I will not die an unlived life

I will not die an unlived life
I will not live in fear
of falling or catching fire
I choose to inhabit my days,
to allow my living to open me,
to make me less afraid,
more accessible,
to loosen my heart
until it becomes a wing,
a torch, a promise.
I choose to risk my significance,
to live so that which came to me as seed
goes to the next as blossom,
and that which came to me as blossom,
goes on as fruit.

- Dawna Markova