A Crack in the Wall

Do you ever look up and notice that crack in the wall? Wait, is it moving? Yes, it's slow, but it's moving. It doesn't bother you much at first. You even think about putting something over it to cover it up instead of calling someone about it. Then, a door shuts wonky. Then, another door will shut but the lock is off a hair. Then, you look up and that crack is making a geometric design. And after awhile, you think the wall may even break off in a design not intended as art. Finally, you call the foundation repair person. You have put it off because you know it's going to cost an arm and leg, and wonder if it will even fix it, and if so, for how long. This is hauntingly very similar to health issues. I think I can wait on the teeth cleaning. I don't really like to go for my annual exam to the gyn. I could probably skip just one skin cancer check, right? I end up going most of the time as I'm supposed to but I sure do think about not going - a lot. I happen to be an expert swimmer in the river of DeNile. Although I do end up going for the follow ups as I'm supposed to the majority of the time, I spend a fair amount of time thinking of why I don't want to go. But I go anyway, knowing I'm just kidding myself about not going. It's all a game I've played for awhile, esp as the doctor appointments have exponentially increased these last few years. 

Don't believe everything you think

Yet, I've called the foundation repair company now. They came and went this week, placing 4 piers on the east side of the house, along with an engineer visit before and after to inspect it all, and then a plumber to come and check for leaks. Eventually, I will likely get the wall(s) fixed, the doors corrected and now know that my house is "that house with the foundation issues". Labeled. My house is now labeled, Foundation Problems dum dum dum. This hit home (no pun intended) as I think about all the labels my ego gives me. Runner, nurse, cyclist, triathlete, daughter, mother, sister, wife, friend, cancer warrior, among others. In Eckhart Tolle's book, A New Earth, he speaks about how our ego convinces us of these labels and how we wear them as badges. Eckhart explains that those are our roles/functions in life, but not who we are. Really!? Interesting. He goes on to explain that we are beings. Beings. And when we start to say I am fill-in-the-blank, we really need to stop at I am. I am. Period. It actually feels good to do that. I've started practicing that more and more. I fulfill my roles in life, but they do not define me. I am simply, I am.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, it became easy to wear that label and play that role of cancer patient. After the initial processing of a cancer diagnosis, it's heavy, but with time, it becomes lighter. Almost like acclimating to the bright sun outside when you first walk out the door, and then your eyes adjust. I wondered where that label of 'cancer patient' fell in line with all my other labels. It's then I decided to allow it to be another role in my life, along with the other 101 roles I play. And then transitioned to I am......and try to stay in the place of 'I am'.

What is for you won't go past you

Fast forward to now. I've added another new role/function, and one that is new to me: caregiver. Okay Eckhart, it's not who I am, but a role/function in my life. And David's new role as a cancer patient is evolving. Let's review. Sunday, Jan 10th we make our (not maiden) voyage to MDA for covid testing. Then on Monday, Jan 11th the adventure on cancer island begins. Radiation and chemo for 7 weeks, both simultaneously. David has been diagnosed with SNUC, and he's had surgery by Dr Pahlavan who we credit for saving his life by finding out David had this....early on. Thank you a million, Dr P! And now, it's go-time.

We have spent a fair amount of time visiting with others who have been through cancer treatments of their own, listening to their stories. We have watched Samatha Lynn on YouTube vlog her journey as a 22 year old breast cancer warrior with multitudes of treatments of which she has allowed others to follow her journey - the good, the bad and the cancer. And now, we will get a birds eye view, a front row seat to this same show. 

Louder for the people in the back

What I know for sure is that friends, family, co-workers, and acquaintances all have one thing in common. People are generally unsure what the "right" thing to say to folks in this cancer situation. My answer: There is no right or wrong thing to say, or at least to us that is. Saying what is on your heart and comes out of your mouth is perfect. Whatever you say is appreciated and accepted with love. This is a hard situation, one in which others want to comfort you. We in turn, want others to know how much their actions and words mean to us - it means everything to us. Not everyone feels comfortable saying something. And that's okay, too. Then others say something and wonder if what they said is okay. I'd like to tell you now, that whatever you say is 'just right'. There is no wrong. Our journey is your journey. Our pain is your pain. We will see this through together, and are most grateful for that. Never had we felt the need to accept our community as we do now. The support and compassion fills our soul with love, peace and comfort. Thank goodness you are there.

Party Train

When I first boarded the cancer train to cancer island, it was pretty tame. Monthly appts, treatments when needed, labs all the time, multiple blood thinner meds to keep my blood from becoming jelly. Then, oddly, David joined this same train I've been riding. His cancerversary is Thanksgiving. What I realized is that the train ride is easier alone with cancer, as you can make up all kinds of stories in your head and review it all like powerpoint slides in your mind. And no one knows. Now, David is along for this same ride, contemplating all the appointments, treatments, and costs associated with cancer. I liked it better when it was just me thinking about all these things, as I never would wish them for him to have as well. Can’t it just be one of us? Nope, sorry, he now has his own cancer and we are on a parallel journey together. That's a lot of words to just simply say, I'm on the flip side of the cancer coin now. The support side. It's scary over here. Let's see.....you worry about them, you wonder what they're thinking, you wonder if they're worried, you wonder if they are okay. You wonder if they are going to have pain, will their cancer spread, and what the future will bring. I've now changed from wearing the cancer warrior pants to wearing the cancer supporter pants. There's a lot of pants around here to be worn. Can I be a warrior fighting my own battle and be a good supporter too? Am I saying what David needs to hear, because from my vantage point, I don't want to be unreasonably optimistic and pretend everything is okay. But maybe everything is okay. In many ways, I'm preparing for the worst in my head, so that when the worst never comes, anything better than the worst is awesome. Wow, this support side isn't as easy as it looks. I’m concerned I’m even saying the “right” things to him. 

And weirdly enough, through this maze of thoughts, rationalizations and "processing", I'm filled with overwhelming hope. In the depths of my soul, I feel that no matter what happens, it's what's supposed to happen. And with that, I feel joy. I feel the old games I used to play with myself dissipating. No more excuses in my head about whether or not to go to an appt. I just go. I've leaned into this process, and my focus has changed significantly. My focus is now about each day and what today holds. How beautiful everything looks. How much I love my family and friends, and especially my farm animals and dogs. No one knows their own destiny, nor do I. My major shift has been the idea that it's likely sooner than I originally thought. That's all I really need to know. And if I'm going to be even rawer about it, I think I used to think I wouldn't need to worry about dying until I'm old. But what is old. 

All of this gibberish is simply me, letting out feelings. It feels great, and what I've come to realize is that most warriors just want to live their life not being labeled by being "that person" with cancer. But how can that not happen if that's where we are at in our lives? I'm still toying with that idea. It's easy for me to say I'm a runner, a biker, a nurse, a mom, a daughter, a cancer patient, a farmer, and so many other things. I mean, how many houses wanted to be labeled with air quote foundation problems. No one means for that to happen. Eckhart Tolle reminds me that role-playing is the many faces of the ego. "Don't mistake your role for your identity". He goes on to say :

"Giving up role-playing

Every role that we play is a fictitious sense of our self. Tolle points out that most of the people there are in positions of power are completely identified with their role. The way to overcome this problem is to end to give up defining yourself both to yourself and others."

Wow, Cyndi, so stop defining yourself both to yourself and others. That's huge. Thank you, Eckhart. Note to self: Work on that. I am. #trying

Always be yourself, unless you can be a chicken....then always be a chicken (not Eckhart approved)

On the farm, rubber boots go with anything, esp pajamas. We will be leaving our rubber boots by the door, in the morning as we head for Houston. Truth bomb? We don't know what's coming. We are headed at limitless speed towards cancer island whereby health care workers will take you to your own personal edge. Your limits will be pushed, your patience will be tested and your relationship will be strained. It's just gonna happen. I've decided to blog very similarly to when I ran across the U.S. in 2015 -  I'm going to blog most every day and speak of what unfolds each day. When I was about a week into a 3,000 mile run from Venice Beach, CA heading to Virginia Beach, VA, I had a best (running) friend, Gates speak some very wise words to me. He said (over the phone while I'm out running on the side of the road), "Cyndi, do not just blog about all the good stuff along your way day in and day out. I know you. You HAVE to blog about the hard things, the bad things, and the things that scare you. People want to hear that, too." Okay Gates. I can hear you even now telling me this again, except the journey is very different this time. We did not pick it. It picked us. God has written this story for us, and I'll translate it in my own words.....to you, as we move down the road. All of it. Being vulnerable is not my forte. But for you, Gates, I'll make sure all the hards, all the struggles, and all the crying will be well reported right here. You're welcome. 

Truthpaste is not easy to put back in once you have squeezed it out

Speaking of crying, the truth is I've been crying off and on the day before we are to leave. I'm grieving leaving behind what we love, I'm gutted at the thought of watching David go through what may be the hardest thing he's ever tackled. I wish I could go through it instead, and that we could trade places. Can we please. I'm crying because the farm animals will wonder where we've gone. I'm crying because I don't want David to hurt. I'm crying because I can, and I need to. The good news is that when I awake in the morning, I will be stronger for allowing myself to grieve. I wrote that permission slip first thing this morning. Cry yes. All you want. It helps me to not hold onto it, and let it pass through me. Dear Me: You've been through a lot. I know it's been hard. Stay strong. I'm proud of who you are. Try not to stray from your path. Everything I'm praying for is on it's way. Everything will be okay. It really will. Signed, Me

I meant to do that

Now with the crying behind me, I'm back on track. The detour to CryTown helps realign me. As I have the car packed, the farm arrangements made, and while we make our way to Houston - just know - we are taking you all with us. Hope, faith, support and love will see us to the end of this journey, but first, we will begin it with our cups full. Our souls are inspired by those who have gone before us to complete this same journey to cancer island. I look forward to sharing the ups and downs (Gates) with you. The foundation is repaired. There's no water leaks. I've counted my chickens. The mini horses are boarded, the sheep are safe, the chickens will ask for treats from another caregiver for awhile, and we are on our way. We are not starting from scratch, we are starting from limited experience and can't wait to learn and grow more every day. I've stopped being afraid of what could go wrong and excited about what can go right. Our faith is strong. 

Namaste

I know you already know that MDA has a million study programs. I’m actually in a study for polycythemia vera. And now, David has joined one for the Head and Neck cancer department. It’s called Yoga Therapy. Yep, who knew! It’s a real thing there and we are now enrolled. It’s unexpectedly complicated because there’s 3 different groups, one of which he/we will be in, that’s undetermined at this point. The basis for each group seems to depend on several factors based on the results of a very long (baseline) survey of extremely emotional and physical personal information given by all participants (including caregivers). Oh, and don’t forget the time results of a 6 minute walk. All this information is fed into a algorithm that’s held in the secret Yoga Therapy Study vault and the groups are chosen. A bonus of this study is that it’s for the patient AND their caregiver to see the effects yoga has on cancer patients currently in treatment. They are measuring the (hopefully positive) effects that yoga has in regards to pain, recovery and emotional well being. I have a yoga mat, but imagine we’ll be getting David one very soon. The fact that his first cancer-based study he joins is a yoga one is both ironic and fascinating to me. I’m a fan. Let’s get started please. David on the other hand, well, we’ll wait and see. There’s no bbq or fishing cancer-based studies, and that’s unfortunate for him. 

Turtle Wins The Race

What I’ve failed to mention is the logistics of moving your personal belongings, needed items, and work equipment all 5 hours away and what that looks like. Firstly, it looks like that truck next to you on the road thats moving their family to a different house or apartment. Yep, we’re that truck. All janky with misc household items like the vital coffee maker, the unappreciated humidifier, the unusual dog-running cart/stroller, and a random wedge pillow amongst all the other taken-for-granted things we use day to day. David did mention if he could only bring 2 things it would be 1) our good attitudes and 2) our debit cards.  Maybe we should have just done that. 

Our truck is a reptilian lovers dream. It’s our very own turtle, as the bed of the truck is covered (luckily!) with all our vital life-lines and components just underneath. The heart of our life is in the bed of the truck. Packed tight and snug are all the personal and work things along with so many things we thought we could not live without for 7 weeks. All this, despite the fact I’ll (we’ll) be going home on weekends here and there. We know we brought too much. For sure. The apartment we are renting has lots of things already there. What I can say in my defense is that my pantry, my fridge, my closet and other spaces were all edited in this process. The Home Edit would be proud. I ended up cleaning out so many different spaces in my home, reorganizing and donating items that no longer serve me. It’s been a cathartic time, and although half the things in my truck I may not need in Houston, I’ve “cleaned up” a lot of my life just preparing for this temporary (TDY as we used to call it) move. Another added bonus during our stay on cancer island. 

Wait, before you go, can we get an update please

Of course, let's see..... I got the covid vaccine. I didn't grow an extra limb or anything.

We told Brooks ‘See You Later’ this past weekend.  

Gonna miss the cutie patootie

Brooks is in the yellow outfit, making friends and doing new things at daycare now. Let’s just say that mom and dad have reported that he’s sleeping better at night now.

The ponies are doing wonderful! They have grown their winter coat long and beautiful, and are currently boarded at our farriers place. 🤩 

My sister, Sheryl and her sweet granddaughter, Savannah, along with their entire family are supporting us over there 🙏

The Littles, Maybe and Sugar are coming with us to Houston. 

As we travel through rain and snow on our way, I am reminded of how comfortable we are in doing so. With God shining His light through the cold and wet conditions, He will see us there. He will see us through it all. 

May the light in me honor the bright and loving light in you,

Cyndi