I feel the need to talk about cancer. I never like to burden you with it but once in a while it is good. We all need to get used to the idea that it is around and waiting.
Two things happened in the last two days that have struck a chord with me and they are on my mind. They seem to be opposites and I am trying to reconcile them. Maybe it is just one of those paradoxes that one has to live with.
My Rebecca and I were out on the town, well Vashon town, to see Wonder Woman last evening. We had a draft while waiting for the theater to open and met an old friend who we spent a little time catching up with. He asked what I was up to and I had to mention my cancer hobby since I was standing there with my portable chemo pump on my hip clicking away getting the finale to my 99th treatment in me. He said he had his own run in with cancer and told me that story and gave me the stat that 1 out of 3 men will come up with cancer in their lives.
I had never heard that 1 out of 3 but it could be accurate. It feels like it is so prevalent, don’t know numbers. But I went into my usual talk of how cancer is the best thing that ever happened to me. Well, I always have to precede that with, “I am going to tell you something that may sound weird.” But I really feel that in a sense it was an integral part of the process of me reorganizing my life for the good. It was the right thing at the right time combined with other ingredients to changed my life and yes for the good.
But there always has to be a flip side I guess. I had lunch with a friend that I hadn’t talked to in a long time and after catching up he started talking about how he was caring for his brother who lived an isolated life because he was missing his lower jaw due to his run in. Definitely sent a shudder up through me.
I feel the need to make sure to acknowledge those who are suffering the most. I feel some sort of survivor guilt. I am out walking, partying and giving talks. It is hard to reconcile for me when I run into this conflict. Cancer obviously brings some bad stuff into people’s lives, big time.
Before I started my blogpost I was waffling about writing about cancer and I read a FB post by one of my favorite people that has just written a book about her exploits. This is Edie Littlefield Sundby who wrote Mission Walker. It is about her walk along the Camino Real the trail connecting all the missions though the Baha and up through New California. She had a quote: “I knew that in order to survive, I had to help my doctors believe they could save me.” That is so powerful.
People have such different experiences confronting their obstacles. Thanks, I feel better having talked through some of this stuff. Ever onward my friends, love, Felipe.
beautiful post, Felipe. We never know what we will face in our lifetimes; we never know how we will respond to our suffering and/or the suffering of those we love.
On the Camino Dana and I met a pilgrim priest. He was young, obviously fit and wore a Red Sox ball cap with pride. when we met him, he had hurt his leg and was forced to taxi over portions of the walk. At first he was bummed out about his situation. Then one day he glanced at a bracelet he was wearing. It was a gift from a friend before he left for Spain. Although he had been waring the bracelet for weeks, he had never noticed, until then, what was written on it. It said: “There is no right way to walk the Camino.”
It seems to me that our ideas about strength, courage, compassion, are just that, mind pictures of how we should behave in tough situations. Sometimes other people, or words on a simple bracelet, teach us to see where we are in a new light. I think you offer that to people when you talk about cancer. It’s not like everyone should try to act like you, but rather each of us can help one another be right where we are… in that spaciousness so much is possible.
Congratulations on #99. You’re awesome.
Catherine ~ thank you dear, you are so supportive. I like your thoughts. We need to paddle the canoe. Felipe.x
Hey Buddy
Thanks for the thoughtful post. Reading, I kept thinkin just one thing– each of us has our own story. Unique. Just ours. Our path. Our challenges and victories and peace-making and all the rest. I usually forget that, tho, and start to wonder why others people’s stories aren’t more like mine– or the other way around. Then I feel either a.) like an abject failure ( I coulda been, done seen, etc) or 2.) too fortunate for what I somehow deserve when others have it worse off. I forget their story also THEIR story, just like mine is mine. Different, unique paths.
I’m always thankful our paths crossed. Gotta give some gratitude to Sture and Trygve for that, I suppose. Anyway, our paths DID cross– two different, unique stories, being woven together. A Blessing.
Steve-O ~ thank you man, I know we are not getting our campfire time in but this is pretty darn good. I like your thoughts. This post spurred on a lot of comments. Have a lot to think about. Hello to your family, Felipe.
Querido Felipe,
Thank you for talking about cancer as you did and as you do. No matter how prevalent it is these days, the word still makes each of us feel unease, and clearly it is because we are aware of the suffering it involves. And we are not good at hearing, seeing, being with suffering, especially the other’s, because we recognize that in occasions there is nothing we can do about that to solve it, to make it go away, and our fixing minds always try to sort things out so we can move onto something else (and it is easier to do that with us, when we are us the ones who suffer, but it is more difficult with the others).
But in the moment we are given the chance to see the suffering in the way YOU show it to us, YOU teach us to be less scared, you teach us to be more human, more compassionate, to be better listeners, and you actually give the chance us to tell you about our suffering, the worries that consume our lives too.
I am constantly surprised at the fact that most of the conversations you open, end to me in the same thought: whatever is that we lost (health, a marriage, the chances for a family, our security, etc) is what set us on a journey that would have been unimaginable for us. It is certainly not better, and we cannot tell if we wouldn’t have been able to move into this direction if those sad lost wouldn’t have occurred, but this is the reality we know and what we must be sure about is that if “this” is what we have made of our lives, we have taken up the challenge “accepting the cup as offered, not altered”.
Thank you for all you are teaching me, and thank you for walking with me on my own challenges.
How did I get so lucky to “meet” you?
Love and hugs,
Cris
Ah Cris ~ beautiful comment. Thank you for all your kind words and interesting thoughts. I don’t always have to wrestle with this stuff but occasionally I do. I think you are right that it is helpful to talk about these things that we usually hold so close to us. Read some of the other comments here on this post. Some good stuff got stirred up.
Yes, and I want to teach you to be less scared. That could be most important to me. I am working at doing that.
I am happy to have met you also, Felipe.x
So encouraged by these thoughtful and lively responses! Whew…
Michelle ~ I have some high class readership for sure! Whew… Felipe.x
Hola Felipe, el granero!
I just know you and Edie are going to meet up some time and bring all manner of good things to light for the rest of us. I’m getting her book, too. What an amazing human being she is!
Corn report: Ours is just starting to show the “tassel leaf”, announcing the arrival of tassels, probably next week. It’s been growing like crazy, but using up water like the drunken sailor thing we always talk about. We can stand some extended dryness, but temps in the upper 90’s is anathema for tasseling time. We especially need some moist nights when the corn silks come out to facilitate the “corn sex” thing that makes all those baby kernels. That request is made fervently here at each meal after the Prayer Before Meals, petitioning the One who can make things happen. If we happen to forget, little 4 year old Adric chimes in “What about the rain, Grampa?”
Hang in there Cancer Commado, Weed Warrior, Blog Broadcaster!
SF,
PFJ
OK PFJ ~ I think you are the last comment I have to respond to tonight. So many great ones. I know I can’t wait to meet Edie. She will be up to Seattle for a book signing and I will kidnap her then for a stay at the ranch.
And thanks for the corn update. I just talked with my corn buddy from Western NY this afternoon. He came from that clan down in Britt IA. He plants sweet corn for the family and friends and an acre of field corn for the deer and turkeys. Everyone is getting fed.
I like the thing about your grandson reminding you to pray for rain. You got the Norman Rockwell thing going on all over the place. OK, one more time, “love you man”, Felipe