Sunday, June 24 – Synchronicity

Yesterday I went with our neighbor to the Redondo Beach Street Fair.  He drove and wouldn’t let me even pay for parking.  He also was wonderful when my feet wouldn’t let me walk anymore, pushing me around in the wheel chair.  They have the chair for when their oldest son got really sick and could not walk, and their youngest son, who has physical limitations in his ability to walk, needs a chance to rest when they go places.  They are also letting us borrow the chair for the charity event we’re attending today to support Cancer Support Community.

I picked up some casual outfits, since I seem to be spending more casual time right now…  One of the outfits was from an Italian clothing company and as I was giving the vendor my choices so I could pay I could feel myself being drawn to something to my left.  It was a physical sensation that pulled my eyes to two necklaces one of the proprietors was setting out on display.  One of the necklaces had two large chunks of raw white calcite crystals in a lariat style drape with silver beads and silver rope chain. I could feel the positive energies pulling me to the calcite. I had to have the necklace. It went perfectly with the pale gray and taupe, beachy drape of the soft pants, shell and light cardigan I had just picked out. White calcite is a healing crystal. It helps lower blood pressure and pain. It helps the body absorb calcium. It amplifies and cleanses energy from the environment and restores motivation, accelerates growth and development. It is also reputed to absorb energy and return it to the sender having transmuted and amplified it, as well as cleanse auric fields and chakras; it is the stone of new beginnings. It was obviously what I needed right now. This picture is not with the new outfit, but I love the necklace and the energies it emits.  Synchronicity.

As I was doing my morning pages today, I was thinking once again about how I feel about myself. Buying new clothes to hide what I don’t like it not an answer. Being stuck in an armor bra which emphasizes how much of my breasts I have lost is not helping me with the raw emotions of bereavement that cling to me like cat hair on knit fabric. Every time I think I have removed the loss, the pain, the anger, the frustration, the sadness and despair, I find yet another clump of those emotions of grief clinging to a space I thought I cleansed. I will find my balance, I just don’t like that it seems to be taking forever.

I don’t like how any of my clothes fit me now. They all fit me fine 9 months ago; I just had bigger boobs that helped hide the bulge of my stomach. I was symmetrically fat, now I have boobs that look like I lost 50 lbs+, and a waist that doesn’t. There is no hiding that I really need to address my weight any longer. And that scares me. What will my boobs look like when I lose the weight I am going to take off? Will I still feel so out of balance with my body? Will I still hate the way clothes look on me? I tried on a dress this morning I was thinking of wearing to the event this afternoon. I clings to the tummy bulge and has extra material in the princess seam of the bust. I can cover the bust issue with a little shrug that goes with the dress. It still looked horrible. I have a closet full of clothes that I feel I can no longer wear because of my boobs, or lack thereof.

Deep breath, this is temporary.

Deda said I should start the process to get a second opinion of what can be done to fix the boobs now so I have a positive to look forward too through the radiation process. I’m not even sure I want to risk going back under a knife again. I will have to think about this. I guess it could not hurt to go through the process of getting the consultation, seeing their before and afters, talking to previous patients. Part of me is afraid I will be told I should just be happy with what I have, and it will leave me feeling like there is something wrong with me for not liking what I have been left with from this process. I already regret letting a plastic surgeon near me, and there is that voice in the back of my brain that asks in a nasally vociferate voice- “why in ever loving hell would you allow another one to even contemplate touching our boobs”.

One of the other things that has been lurking in the back of my brain is recurrence. Is this delay in starting radiation raising my recurrence risk? One of the girls in support group made the statement that with this delay my radiation oncologist may want to change my “dosage” from 30 days to 35 days. Does that even change my chances of recurrence? I slightly worry about that one little cell that has managed to escape. Has evaded the chemo assault, and it is lurking in the shadows of my bone marrow just waiting its chance to take another swing at me. I am not afraid of dying. As so deftly put by J.M. Barrie when he has Peter Pan say, “To die will be an awfully big adventure.” So why do I keep having this niggling concern about recurrence? This slight disquiet in my brain has me thinking about a notebook that came with the chemo care package Deda sent me last year. The cover of that notebook lists things that cancer cannot take away from you – hope, love, faith, peace, confidence, spirit, friendship…

But then I think about Deda’s hen that just passed away. She died peacefully in her sleep, head tucked under her wing in her coop. She was a “blonde” chicken, lovely in her white plumage, klutzy like most of us women in the family, loving and kind. What a beautiful way to die, to just fade away from your body in your sleep. This is what cancer can take away. It can take away dignity. It can take away that silent, tranquil ease of the spirit from the body. I’ve watched people die from cancers. As much as we tried to ease the dying process and make it as dignified and pain free as possible, it wasn’t that easy. The slipping from the body was troubled and painful. It was fraught with hurt and anger. That is what I fear. The indignities of cancer, and the possibility of not having that untroubled transition from life in this mortal body to that new adventure.

It’s not death, its how I die that is at the root of this angst. That and I always wanted to be that cool Nane that drinks whiskey and listens to the grandkids and the great grands, as they spew out their hurts and frustrations with life and love, and I could tell them over a good game of Poker or Gin Rummy, while we drink that fine whiskey or wine, that life is what you make of it. You take the good and revel in it, wrap your heart and soul with those soft balmy memories; soak your heart in laughter with your loved ones, and seep you spirit in the quiet tranquil moments spent together. Then you use that shiny armor you have created within you to help you face the bad times. To gird your loins, to laugh in the face of adversity. To help you find the silver linings when life throws you that curve ball. Don’t worry about what others think of you, worry about what you think of you. Play with your hair! It’s not what makes “you” you. Dare to be yourself. Damn the torpedoes! Learn to listen to that still small voice inside. That is God, that is the universe, that is your best you. Love often, even if it hurts, and then love some more. Remember you cannot “save” everyone, there are those who are on a path of learning that will take them through very rough lessons, you have to let them learn those lessons. Remember to laugh! Remember to be kind to your knees, they help you do so much. And wear sunscreen. Don’t forget the sunscreen. I don’t want to miss this by having cancer take me out before it happens.

As I sat on the sofa with Hubby and listened to the “football” game being aired – Senegal vs. Japan, I was perusing Facebook to try and find the post Deda made about her hen. Instead Synchronicity had me click a link for James Corden carpool karaoke. This was with Paul McCartney and they were driving through Liverpool. Paul showing James all is old haunts, his home, where The Beatles came to be. At one point Paul tells James that his dead mother came to him in a dream and told him to “let it be”. That was the inspiration for the song. At that moment the tears gathered and spilled out of my eyes, making lazy little runnels down my face. Healing tears. Tears that reminded me I had forgotten the curative power of music, and specifically how much I love the power and simple beauty of The Beatles catalog. I know that this is not a magic wand that will take away all my woes, but it’s another step, another tool, another little magical energy that reminds my soul of what it is capable of being. A gentle reminder that there is beauty, and it’s ok to walk away from the hurts and pains, it’s ok to let the tears fall when the need arises to wash away the negatives that keep trying to take root. It’s ok to Let It Be.

Life is letting it be