Cowards? No. Brave? Not so much...

I found this essay by Leroy Sievers from his blog site, "My Cancer" on NPR to be very apt:

September 25, 2007

Does Cancer Make Us Cowardly?

“How many of us would love to run away from our disease? From the treatments, the side effects, the pain? ... We can't run away. So we are left with only one choice. Stand and face it. ”

I was watching an old episode of Boston Legal the other day. I won't try to summarize the plot, but a cancer patient was on the stand in a trial. In the course of his testimony, he said, "Cancer makes cowards of us all." It's one of those lines that grabs your attention. It was clearly meant to. And I kept thinking about it long after I was done with the episode.

I think it's wrong. Wrong meaning incorrect, not morally wrong. Cancer, as we all know far too well, is scary. It's more than scary, it's terrifying. It's worse than any horror movie out there. Sometimes the fear it brings can be almost paralyzing. Except that it's not. I think cancer tries to make cowards of us all. And fails.

To me, a coward is someone who runs away, who fails to act out of fear. No cancer patient is a coward, for one very simple reason. We're not allowed to be. How many of us would love to run away from our disease? From the treatments, the side effects, the pain? At some point, we have all felt that. But it's just not one of the options. We can't run away. So we are left with only one choice. Stand and face it.

We've talked before about how often people tell us how brave we are. I don't think that's right either. We are challenged by this disease, and we rise to the challenge because there really is no other choice. People are much stronger than they think. It's just that many people are never tested.

My cancer has scared me. It scares me pretty much on a daily basis. It scares me when it hides, when it grows, when it surprises me. But make me a coward? Never.

-- Leroy Sievers

Overland - 1, Glioblastoma multiforme - 0

That’s the way I think of the score, to date!

Eric has successfully navigated the first round of therapies, both the radiation and chemotherapy. The last of six weeks of radiation treatments was Wednesday, 9/19. Always one to get good marks, Eric received a terrific certificate from the gang at Providence Radiation Therapy commending him for his wonderful attitude, invoking the spirit of Chingachgook, and of course, perfect attendance! The picture taken with the amazing linear accelerator that shot the zaps to his bean, shows how he decorated his mask. Superheroes, take note! The following day, he took his last chemotherapy of this initial round --- 42 straight days.

Sometime around the end of October when some of the radiation trauma has had a chance to subside, a new MRI will be done to provide the new base line study for future comparisons. And after the month’s break, it’s expected that the chemotherapy will begin again on a 5 days on, 23 days off cycle for the next year or so.

In the meantime, we are looking forward to his regaining some of that signature vim and vigor that he complains of missing during the treatment. We are cautioned that the fatigue can linger for some days or weeks. However, the phrase “can’t keep a good man down” could have been coined for Eric, and he is already making plans for how to best spend these next weeks. Watch out, fish!

This week we have been blessed with visits from Maryann, who came home to reclaim her pooch, as well as giving us a boost, and Eric’s brother Mark, who is always wonderful company and took on his to-do list of chores very cheerfully.

Thank you all for checking this site. We appreciate being able to do these mass updates --- which help to keep us from talking about ourselves ALL the time.

Marjorie

Sunday- a day for reflection

Sunday a day for reflection. Three more radiation treatments and five more days of chemotherapy, then months of rest, healing, and thanksgiving.

I don’t know the author of this poem, but borrowed it from “The Healing Power of Humor,” by Allen Klein.

My life is but a weaving between me and my Creator,
I cannot chose the colors, He weaveth steadily,
Sometimes He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper and I the underside.
Nor ‘til the loom is silent and the shuttle cease to fly,
Shall the Creator unroll the tapestry and explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful in the weaver’s skillful hands,
As the ones of silver and gold in the path He has planned.


Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
and children’s faces looking up,
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like the curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirits still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all that you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost,
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstacy
Give all you have been, or could be.

Sara Teasdale (1884-1933)


And now for a laugh at ourselves.

Things you’ll never hear a Rogue Valley Redneck say:

I’ll take Shakespeare for 1,000, Alex!
Wrasslin’s fake.
Honey, did you mail that donation to Greenpeace?
Who’s Richard Petty?
The tires on that truck are too big.
My fiancee is registered at Macy’s.
Checkmate.
Isn’t she too fat to be wearing that bikini?
Hey, dearest, here’s an episode of “Hee Haw” that we haven’t seen.

Peace to all, Eric

The Monk Who Flunked Three Times

Well, we are 2/3s the way through radiation and have eight more photon salvos fired into my medial temporal lobe to go and 11 more days of daily chemotherapy. For those of you who skipped human biology sections on the brain the temporal lobe is helpful in emotional control, following directions, spatial orientation, and short term memory processing. This explains why it can be removed in men and people won’t notice a difference. My surgeon saved about 1/3 of my temporal lobe and that is why I’m still wacky me. He did have to sacrifice my small-talk center which was a vestigial structure anyway and underdeveloped. I consulted a brain rehab specialist about getting my small talk center jump started so I wouldn’t feel self conscious when I got back among my people. He suggested using some commonly appreciated widely disseminated popular themes to notify people that I was struggling to reconnect with the people. So, if we are talking and I casually ask, “do you think Brittany Spear’s navel is starting to sag?” or, is it possible that the universe was once the size of Paris Hilton’s brain?” remember that I am struggling to find another area of the brain that can handle this heady stuff that concerns Americans these days. Feel free to jump to a timeless topic that has trouble philosophers and scientists for eons, like Saint Thomas Aquinas’ question, “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”

Speaking of Monks, my head is responding to radiation with selective death of hair follicles that supported luxuriant brown or black hair-always the envy of my wife- with survival of thin gray whispy stuff that makes me look like a monk who was a moral flunk out crossed with Yoda. I”M going to speak to my radiation specialist about a rebate.

I have lost my Vim and Vigor with this “treatment” and have sent out a mayday call for anyone with surplus Vim to beam me some and I’ll send it back with interest better than you’ll get at any bank.

This being Sunday we should have more religion than the mention of St Thomas Aquinas and other monks. So here it is:

The American Indians taught by the oral tradition-like the Israelites. An elderly Indian was talking to his grandson about the conflicts that go on inside people. The battle is between two “ wolves” inside all of us.

One is evil, filled with anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and resentment.

The other wolf is good, filled with joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, kindness, benevolence, truth, compassion, and faith.

The grandson pondered these concepts for a while, then asked his grandfather. “ Which wolf wins?”

The grandfather replied, “ the one you feed.” Thanks Paulette.


From Wally:

An old farmer’s advise

Keep skunks, bankers, and lawyers at a distance.
Life is simpler when you plow around the stumps.
Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Sometimes silence is the best answer.
The best sermons are lived, not preached.
The biggest troublemaker you’ll ever deal with watches you from the mirror every morning.
It doesn’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.
Forgive your enemies. It confuses them.
Drink upstream from the herd.
When you wallow with pigs, expect to look like a pig.
Don’t argue with a fool. People can’t tell the two of you apart.
Most stuff people worry about never happens.
Every path will have puddles.
Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.
If you think you are person of some influence, try ordering somebody else’s dog around.

Again from Paulette, who is always teaching: True love is neither physical nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be. The happiest people don’t necessarily have the best of everything, they just make the best of everything and never forget Who to thank.

Eric

Things and PEOPLE to be thankful for.....

Today will mark the two thirds point in Eric's radiation therapy --- 20 out of 30 zaps are done! It's not getting any easier, but it's great to reach a milestone of sorts.
We are most thankful for the good care that he is getting from Drs. Haugen and Dibb. And I am thankful that they have all that fancy pants equipment right here in Medford, so that we aren't sitting in a rented Winnebago in a parking lot in Portland for six weeks of daily radiation!

It's always tricky to start thanking people by name who have done kind things for us, because invariably there are more than can be listed. Isn't that a wonderful problem to have?

Here are a few who have helped particularly lately:

Dear friends who have provided nourishment of every kind: flight (Tom Glatte) and flights of fancy (Petey, Tom Espinosa), books and balloons, flowers and much delicious food, notes, cards, emails and clever jokes (Paulette, Jeff, Adrienne, Bud, Don, Gary!). Dear friends who have invited us to share special celebrations --- Forsyths, Petersons, Johnsons, Noyes, Palamaras --- thank you!

Pulmonary Consultants PC --- the best office in the world! The wrist bands are the best. We'll get that photo posted here soon. I treasure my beautiful notes and poems even after the flowers are gone. John, for looking after all of us on ICU day, we are grateful. And Dan, for all your help with Dad, we thank you especially.

Old roomies --- Brenda, I love the eye thingy and the CC "hang in there", and Linda, your positive vibes are with me every day! And to rest of that old gang --- Sally, Barb, Jessie, Ed, Judith thanks for your good wishes and support.

Former patients --- for all the beautiful testimonial letters of thanks and support.

Agape 12, Chapter CP, Chorale chums, RCC Foundation, AMFF Board, Craterian family, Pat's Painters, Gardner Way, the Gourmands, NPM, RWIC, the Rabid Readers, G'Diggers, Tom H. and Co. at Providence, and the Medford Rogue Rotary --- everyone has been wonderful.

Susie and Carol (Penwell & Lowenberg, that is) who we love and who got us through June 29 - July 15 and beyond...!

Lyn and Reeve, who also belong to the club no one wanted to join, for information, support, camaraderie and love, we thank you and that club's dearest alumna, Helen.

Ruth, Tom, Rachele, Jeremy & Rebecca for being our 'other' family, the Swiss family Rohner, and our new families, the Sperrys and the Christensens.

And most especially our own family: The brothers and sisters-in-law & our own beloved young'uns, Sean, Tim, Liz, Maryann & Henrik.