The View From Above

It's been a humdinger of a couple of weeks. Oddly, not necessarily for me, but for those humans living their lives around me. As I go to work each day, I find myself increasingly listening to the stories of the lives around me. As an OR nurse, I am usually in an operating room staffed with a surgeon, anesthesiologist, circulating nurse and surgical tech. Sometimes there are other staff in the OR such as a PA or audiologist, but mostly it's a small group of people with each other for hours. Then, in between cases, I visit with the patient's family, the PreOp nurses, as well as the nurses in the Recovery Room. It's during this time that I hear it. The struggles. There's happy news mixed in there at times, but mostly people speak of their trials, their tribulations and their suffering.

I've practiced (by practiced, I mean practice and not perfected, over the years) the art of listening without interjecting too much. I'm still working on this though and probably always will. It all started years back when I was introduced to the concept of the 5 Yamas during yoga. The third Yama is Asteya: Non-stealing. This is so much more than not physically taking something from someone else. It's many things besides that, and one of the concepts of Asteya reminds us not to rob another person of their story and/or experience they may be talking about. Have you even witnessed someone telling a story, then another person jumping in or interrupting to give their own version of a similar/better/worse experience. I can't deny that humans do this as a way of connecting with each other. Yet, there's many times people just want to be heard, and they do not want another human to 'one up' them or interrupt them while sharing their story - or take their story on another tangent of their own. But it happens....more often than not. 

As I practice asteya, I find I'm able to really understand what a person is trying to say. I'm able to watch their non-verbal cues equally as hearing their words if I simply remain silent and listen (which both of those words have the same letters but just jumbled around). And what a humdinger of a couple of weeks it's been for people. School starting for their children, health issues for them or family, never enough time, death and dying, but seemingly the most talked about is the struggles of their own children. Their children's anxiety, their children's addiction (I'm going to call it that because I can) to technology/phone, and their children's ceaseless concerns. I listen to their stories and realize that 1) no one is left off the struggle bus, and 2) no matter how great the struggle, there's no hierarchy in suffering and we actually cannot compare one's trauma to another person's trauma. 

Apparently, there's no order of whose suffering is greater than another, and I heard this reiterated recently while reading The Choice, by Dr Edith Eger. 

In my Top 3 List of best books I've read

Dr Eger is one of the few living Holocaust survivors and eventually became a psychologist who uses her own experience to help treat patients and allow them to "escape the prison of their own minds". I found her book profoundly moving. I came across this most fascinating women in a podcast on the Oprah Super Soul Special (originally dated it on June 24, 2019). It's a podcast on Oprah's Super Soul series with a release date of August 31, 2022 and I listened to it as it was the next in line of Oprah's guest and topics on her podcast. 

Fun fact: Dr Eger was 91 years old at the time of this conversation. 91! Oprah starts by reading an excerpt on page 9 from The Choice : 

'I would love to help you discover how to escape the concentration camp of your own mind and become the person you were meant to be. I would love to help you experience freedom from the past, freedom from failures and fears, freedom from anger and mistakes, freedom from regret and unresolved grief—and the freedom to enjoy the full, rich feast of life. We cannot choose to have a life free of hurt. But we can choose to be free, to escape the past, no matter what befalls us, and to embrace the possible. I invite you to make the choice to be free.'

As I listened to Dr Eger talk with Oprah, I was mesmerized. It was only in March of 1944 that she was taken as a 16 year old to Auschwitz and had to watch as her parents were taken to the gas chamber. Everyday this young women faced death, either around her, standing in lines for what might be her own death, and watching those around her die - every day. Her life in the concentration camp, and then as a survivor, has led her to a life of helping others. It was a long, grueling road as you can imagine. As she puts it, 'I had my secret, and my secret had me' as when she became a free women, she did not readily reveal her past to others as she pushed the trauma down deep inside her. Turns out, healing for her, included freeing herself of her past and choosing to move forward in life, hence her book, The Choice. 

From 1941-1945 this unimaginable tragedy took place, all while the world stood by. Edith, along with thousands of other Jews were tormented, tortured, starved, enslaved and threatened with death on a daily if not hourly basis. Her book transports me there. I'm there with her and her sister, living it along side her, as she's written it so exquisitely. The repetition of not knowing if you will live or die at all times was merely mixed in with the unspeakable conditions and treatment of the Jews captured (and those not captured have their own horrible treatment to endure in society). I think about death as the words in her book penetrate my soul. This is a book that has forever changed me. Living on the edge of life and death, as was the case for many, changes you. I'm grateful to have been introduced to this book. The mantras she used, dealing with death each day, and the will to live are beyond what any 16 year old (or anyone) should have to be experience. Yet, she survived.

It was not all that long ago that I had read a similar yet different version of this tragedy, Night, by Elie Wiesel.

A must read

When I first read Night, by Elie Wiesel, I was struck by how little I knew about this horrific reign of terror that happened not that many years ago. And how little my exposure in school was regarding this nightmare. And then reading The Choice, I was able to absorb more of the history told by those who survived. There's many unspeakable tragedies in this big, wide world - in the past, happening now and will likely never stop happening. I have a great appreciation for those who tell their story, and not only tell their story, but assist others in their lives after such tragedy of their own. 

These books take me back to a place that no words can really describe. And then fast forward to today, whereby I listen to other people's lives, issues, situations and problems at my workplace and I have an awareness that sometimes what seems to be the littlest problem usually has an underlying bigger problem at hand that they may be unintentionally hiding. We all have our secrets and according to Dr Eger, our secrets have us. I pause to think of those secrets deep down inside me which cause self-inflicted suffering. And how Dr Eger prompts us to free ourselves of our past, our mistakes and our anger so that we free ourselves of the suffering associated with it.

I may not be a history buff, but these stories of heartache and tragedy remind me just how those with such great strife in their lives have carried on to show others how to carry on. And when I continue to listen to those around me in the operating room (and elsewhere in my life) who speak of their suffering in their personal lives, I understand we are all suffering together even though we think we are doing so alone. And I take with me Dr Eger's words of "choosing to be free of our past". And I take with me Anne Frank's words of "choosing not to complain". And I take with me Elie 's words of "think higher, feel deeper".  And I try to listen, I really do. It's a lifelong process of learning to listen and not speak. I will often try to resist the urge to steal another's persons story. I have to remind myself of this many times. And when I do, I'm always glad I did. 

Thanks for listening.

Let's talk death, shall we

As I move through my 2nd cancerversary and also celebrate Blood Cancer Awareness Month, I find that these last few years have allowed me to embrace the idea of death and speak freely about it. I suppose I was speaking about death before my blood cancer diagnosis. After all, I was diagnosed with skin cancer long ago as well as have been a Death Cleaning Influencer long before the knowledge that my expiration date has likely been moved up. And while I don't consider myself death-obsessed, I do consider myself open to talking about death and dying. Not everyone around me is agreeable to this topic. Death is usually only discussed once someone losses a loved one, a friend, or knows of a public loss or has an association with a loss. Then, the grief flood gate opens. Are we able as humans to talk about death prior to an upcoming loss-to-be. I would like for this answer to be yes, but can tell you it's usually a no. There are a few folks who do bring up the death topic and I always find it fun and amusing. For example, I bike with a friend named Gary, and while cycling many miles we discuss death and dying. He even has an app on his phone called WeCroak which 'helps you find happiness while contemplating you're mortality'. It's tag line, "Remember, you're going to die" is a doozy. I laugh every time I think about it because it's so nonchalant. The app is like, Yeah, you're gonna die so here's some words to consider, like : death is only the end if you assume the story is about you. 

*Side note - not everyone enjoys this kind of thing. Gary's wife, Kristine is a prime example. It's just not a topic that's top on her list to review and discuss and I'm good with that. We each have our comfort levels when it comes to death and dying.

I find nowadays that I need to be careful talking about death. You see, one of the major warnings/precautions of my cancer treatment is suicidal thoughts. I've been informed by several health care workers who have educated me on the BESREMi treatment that it's not indicated well for those who suffer from depression. Even though I've not suffered from depression, there are close family members that have and/or do. 

So as I move through this cancer treatment of injections every 2 weeks, I am cognizant of this possible reaction therefore may have to tame my death-talk a bit so not to scare the masses. I had my second BESREMi injection 2 weeks ago now (I get them every 2 weeks) as well as labs drawn and in this case, I also saw my local oncologist that same day. What I've learned is that although he seemed on this cancer treatment bandwagon with me initially, I saw some hesitation this last visit. I tried hard to watch him, listen to what he was trying to say, and figure out why he might be saying what he said. Seems he's not sure this is the best treatment option for me and wanted me to know this. Yes, MD Anderson is recommending it for me, and yes, he will prescribe it for me and draw the labs every 2 weeks as recommended. But I could see my local oncologist is unsure. 

After I left his office, after having my injection and labs drawn, my initial reaction was to proceed with MDA and not try to force this option with Texas Oncology. I understand they have not given this to a patient yet, so it's new and different. The nurses in the Infusion Room are excited about a new cancer treatment option for patient's with PV even though they say they have very few patients with this rare blood cancer. These same nurses also verbalize and understand "which oncologist are open to new treatments".....and which are not. 

I've decided to stay strong and continue to seek this cancer treatment option here in the local community. That's really what MD Anderson and the doctors there want as well. They want to get the word out about ground-breaking cancer treatments are available and have the smaller community oncologists gain access to this information via those patients who seek cancer treatment locally instead of traveling to Houston. Sometimes it's an option - and other times it's not. In my case, it's an option to have this cancer treatment locally. So I'm sticking with my decision to do so. I also understand this cancer treatment might not work for me or be 'right' for me, yet I'm going to try it because I trust Dr Verstovsek in the Leukemia Center at MDA who knows blood cancers like he knows how to brush his teeth. Dr V has informed me I can stop the BESREMi at any time if it's not a fit for me. There's no pressure here. I only have one wild and precious life (thank you, Glennon Doyle) so I'm all in. If there's no cure for what I have, why would I not try a cancer treatment if recommended by MD Anderson. What I've learned is that even my local oncologist, with as many cancer patients as he treats, will "not get it until he gets it". It's easy to say what other people should do esp if you're a doctor - that's your expertise. Key is though, it's hard to put yourself in someones shoes to really understand their situation and I mean really try and understand it. His busy schedule seems to forbid this ability. Which is why patients have to be their own advocate. I also know I need to be as objective as possible. So between my local oncologist's preferences of how he practices medicine and my own desire to pursue a treatment that could assist my blood cancer - we may not see eye to eye and I've had to learn that that's okay. 

So there I was, a little sad that my local oncologist was somewhat concerned about pursuing this. I did  receive my second injection that day, which according to my lab results, resulted in a higher dose given this time. And boy was I in for a surprise. 

I drove home after my injection and dr visit at Texas Oncology then I went about my evening, even going out with David to eat at our favorite mexican food restaurant in Sherman. Then back home jiggity jig. When all of a sudden, I felt awful. Seriously, it started at my neck and body aches flooded my body from neck to toes all within about 15 minutes. I took some ibuprofen and went to bed. There was no way I could stay upright. Curled up in the fetal position, feeling feverish, I finally fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, I was unsure if I was actually okay or not. Turns out I was. Whew, what a ride. 

Yep, the flu-like symptoms struck hard and fast

I had been informed that "flu-like symptoms" were a possibility after an injection and wow, they got that right. As Wednesday went on and Thursday came around, I did start feeling more like myself again. But man, that Tuesday night after the injection was a rough one. It surprised me because I had no symptoms after my first injection. 

So injection number 3 is coming up on Tuesday afternoon (after labs are drawn and reviewed). This is where I fall in line with everyone else and speak of my own struggles. We all have our own. It's just that cancer treatment makes most everything else in my life seem less struggle-ish. It's my own personal hierarchy of suffering. Dr Eger is quick to say we shall not compare our suffering to one another’s, but seemingly I can compare my own to my own. Some things that used to seem like a struggle to me no longer are. And did I mention that a cancer diagnosis makes all things more shinier and sparklier. As we say in our house, 'I woke up and brushed my teeth today'. That's code for:  Lookie here, we have another day in the life! I'll happily take it. And as I'm reminded by Dr Eger, I have a choice - a choice to be free from the prison of what the mind can do and the influences it delivers. There's a gift in everything. I'm given the gift of life. And please know this, that when I step off the curb and no longer brush my teeth, I'm okay. Life is easy to speak of. Death is not as readily accepted to speak of. Don't get me wrong, I'm here for the long haul or whatever haul I'm given. Yet knowing I have no control over life and death means I get to speak of both equally. I pick life until death picks me. 

I qualified because I've not had depression prior

These kinds of package inserts are unnerving

As I approach my next cancer treatment, I'm curious to see where this is all going. What will my lab numbers look like?

 

These are my three goals with my lab draws

What exactly is my bone marrow doing now? Will there be side/adverse effects this time as well? Will they be worse, different or not at all? I'll keep you posted, and we'll keep letting go of the past and focus on today. Today is all I have. I am not who I once was. What I love is that who I once has made me who I am today but I cannot pretend things are the same. I continue to grow and show up attempting to be vulnerable and maybe even a little afraid. I am forever changed and saying it out loud helps me realize how much I've grown and how much further I have to grow. Dr Eger helps me realize the need to not let your yesterdays dictate your today. Funny thing is, I have that saying on a magnet on my refrigerator.

Let's change gears and overload on all things pumpkin

Is there really such a thing? I was reading a magazine recently and every picture was loaded with things and more things. Lots of things. Things everywhere. 

This is actually in someone's real house

Page after page shows rooms with stuff. The people who are interviewed openly admit to being 'intentional maximalist'. I had not been introduced to this term before, as I've only read books about becoming a Minimalist. And this magazine was the farthest thing from that. 

I guess this is what estate sales are for

And I will say I absolutely adore these rooms (esp the pumpkins) and understand much of this is seasonal decoration. They probably have a storage unit for these things maybe multiple storage units. I'm genuinely happy for them and know this makes them very happy. But whose going to clean all this up if/when they die. That's a big concern for me. I feel the need to be picking up after myself and often wonder why I expect others to clean up my mess of things, esp if one knows their time is ticking or if they are elderly and do not need the millions of things they've collected over the years. I don’t buy the excuse that relatives or children will ‘want their stuff’. No, they won't. My daughter does not want my stuff now much less after I step off the curb. I contemplate time and time again how we as humans make the sad and stressful voyage to clean out our loved ones house - and things - after they pass away. Why do we not do it ahead of time? I've heard a thousand excuses because I've asked this to others. My curiosity cannot be contained: I ask, Why do you keep it, why do you have it? The answers? I want to enjoy it until the last minute, if you know what I mean. I'm too tired now to do anything about it. My relative(s) will want this so-in-so collection. It's the responsibility of the family to do it. I don't have that much stuff. I can't help it, I'm a natural hoarder. 

My thoughts are if when we are born, we are destined to die, so why not talk about it. But that's just me. Yeah, I used to be in denial and think I wasn't going to die because that's what most people think. Or they think they will not die until they are very old and do not need to worry about it now. I'm always up for a convo on death and dying. I love hearing other people's thoughts on it and giving mine on it as well, if asked. What are my thoughts you ask? That when it's time, I'll no longer have my physical body yet my soul may live on. And unfortunately, the people left behind are the ones who suffer. Who knows if this is true but it's what I believe. Like many people, I'm not scared of death, I think we are scared of the pain that comes with it. Maybe I'm a little scared of death, because I'm concerned with some of the things I've done in my past (and bad decisions I've made in the past) that could literally come back to haunt me in my death. So I'm very busy right now trying to save lots of animals and somehow think this will make me 'even-stephen’ when I get to those so-called pearly gates. Wishful thinking, I know. But a girl can try. And....there's nothing else I'd rather do. 

Death and Dying in Cluckingham

Unfortunately, there's been some chickens that have not seen another day. No, not real recently, but in the super heat of the summer, I did lose a few girlz. So after an official count, I'm sitting at approx 66 chickens. And one turkey if we are to consider Paul in the fowl count.

As you know, not everyone is laying eggs as a chicken quits laying eggs sometimes as soon as around 3 years old. So many of my girlz have new occupations as bug exterminators which I greatly appreciate. I will confess that I'm a little out of control of the all the names like I once was and mostly know the names of my most social girlz. Oddly, I recognize every face of each hen. They are each so unique. I love watching them interact and live within their own community of feathered friends. Seems I always have 1 or maybe 2 who are wonky. I always watch them closely to watch for signs of improvement or signs that death is coming for them. It's hard to watch, esp when there's not much that can be done. I wish I could freeze time and keep them all forever and ever, just as they are. But the life cycle comes for us all. Chickens are fragile. We all are fragile. They are my reminder to live with as much grace as possible, as I watch their fellow chicken friends gather around them during the dying process. 

Must be a meeting going on in here

Sunshine Senior Resort

I have a pretend name for my pretend senior resort here on The Graves Farm. The Sunshine Senior Resort. It all started when Winston choose me as his person.

He came into my life at death's door.
Even the vet said he'd likely not make it.

An old man with a will to live like no other

He’s an oldie but goodie. A gift from above. He shows everyone how to keep going. He gets around amazingly well considering his body is slowly but surely telling him otherwise. I shaved him recently during the heat of the summer, he’s lost a little weight - and looks awesome. He's my Old Man and The Sea.

Another famous senior resident on the farm is Blackie. 

His litter box, bed, and food/water are all within
feet of him. 

A barn cat with a litter box.
I just want him to have access to what he needs.
Both Blackie and Winston have debilitating arthritis.

He too, like Winston, is on Hospice Care. These sweeties have been to the Vet and I’ve been told “they are old” with a solid period after those words. Period The End. They are old and dying is what the vet is really telling me. Too old to treat for ‘this and that’ with arthritic joints and missing teeth. Let them be, is what I’m told. So they get to have the best life I am able to provide. Tasty food, safe surroundings and plenty of fresh water to drink. And love….lots of pets and love. They have fallen into the Graves Farm universe and picked our place to live out their life. I feel so privileged that God would trust me to soothe their dying souls. Sometimes it's hard to watch because I know any day could be their day. Any day could be my day so maybe that's why I connect with them. Nothing is promised. Nothing is guaranteed. I also know we could be here for many days longer. Either way, our time together is like the warm sunshine on a cool breezy day. It's their time now to relax and enjoy the room service. They certainly deserve that - and more. 

Ahhh, and then there’s Paul. One of my most treasured creatures at the farm. There is no one else quite like him. He's my first tom (male) turkey and I can't imagine that there would ever be another Paul. 

Molting and has 1 tail feather left

This sweet sweet boy follows me around constantly. I do have to pen him when he's in heat, but otherwise, he free ranges wherever he chooses. Right now, he's all about being in the inter-santum (front yard area) and has decided that he'd like to see what's inside the house.

Waits patiently at the front door

He loves looking in the house, as well as at times, seeing his reflection in the glass. Either way, he's a joy to have at the front door. The best guest ever except his gobbles can be a bit loud. When he can't seem to make forward movement at the front door, he checks on the back door.

Always lurking

Then, he finally made his way in the laundry room when the door was left open. 

Apparently this is where you actually go in

It was a little much (and slippery on the tile floor) so he choose to be outside after all, and since then, he still continues to go from door to door evaluating the activities inside the house. 

Paul is also a resort member, as he's about as senior as they come, I'm told.

A turkey's spurs helps tell their age.
I'm told he's old yet do not know how old.

After several guests to the farm have informed me "he's old", I did some research to determine he is in fact old. He, like Winston and Blackie, have come to the farm on their own. Paul was a drop-off from friends who did not want him. We have drop-offs here at the farm. Chickens, cats, and ducks and such. But a turkey was new to us. Paul is simply the best and I adore him. He's harmless, sweet, kind and always fun. He's a wonderful ambassador for the Sunshine Senior Resort. 

Wait, there's more.....

When I decided to have a pretend senior resort, I had not realized the amount of seniors we actually have around here. Let's see, Maybe is 11 years old.

Look at those greys, yet like us all,
young at heart.

Levi and Whisper are "around" 9-11 years old as they came with the property and their age is estimated by the prior homeowner and the vet. 

Whisper, dirty from the outside world,
rotates from inside the laundry room to 
outside on the deck to warm up in the sun.

Funny thing is, Levi and Whisper spend much of their day IN the laundry room (i.e. cat room). They use the doggie door to help themselves to the A/C and cool tile floor. They no longer enjoy fireworks, shot gun noise, or thunder anymore. They are placing themselves in retirement one day at a time. Luckily, we now have Penny and Dutch (just in time) to guard the livestock. Because Levi and Whisper are becoming full fledge members of the Sunshine Senior Resort and not looking back. 

Then there's Belle. Sweet Belle. My once 1-day-old lamb whose grown into an (almost) 6 year old grandmother. She's the namesake for the Belle Tower where Penny and Dutch now regularly stand guard. She's the most docile of them all. Her rectangular eyes penetrate mine. She knows me, knows my smell and I can feel her love. There will never be another Belle.

Hard to see, but love her rectangle eyes

I can't forget Dora. My real-life Little Pony. The one I've waited my entire life for. 

Cutest Little Pony of them all 💗

My old mare, blind in one eye, knows-what-she-wants-kind-of-girl, and is the most dog-like mini-horse I've ever met. She's shown Hope, our young rescue pony, how to love and trust. She's shown me how to be young while being old. So petite, cute and oh-so-special in her old age. How did I get this fortunate? Someone in Oklahoma no longer wanted her, and she feel into my lap. I remember they dropped her off quickly and almost sped down the gravel road after they left her. She's exactly what I wanted. 

As are Winston, Levi, Whisper, Belle, Paul, Maybe and Blackie, along with Dora, who are all the original occupants of the Sunshine Senior Resort here at the Graves Farm. I like to look at it more like a sanctuary. A place where seniors come to find peace and calm. Wait, let's count me in there, too. That's exactly what I'm looking for. 

If only I could freeze time here on the farm, and keep everyone exactly as they are. But no. Death will come for us all. There's a folk saying that says: in order to be happy, one must contemplate death five times daily. In doing so, this allows us to let go of things that don't matter and honor the things that do. 

There's even an advice column, you may know it, called Ask Death. Maybe I should ask it why we don't speak to our families more about where they want to die or how they wish to die. We plan the arrivals of humans in detail, but allow death to sneak up on us and surprise us most every time. 

As the view from above looms over us all, I look forward to more death and dying talk while living the most fabulous life. Recently, I was gifted a book:

Now this is a gift

This was probably one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve been given. Thank you, Jeanne.

Whether I'm listening to those around me suffer and struggle with life and death or if it's a book that places me inside the suffering and death of others, I'm reminded that we are born crying and often pass away among tears. All the living in the middle of these moments is like the sweet jelly between the savory peanut butter. The living in between is messy and sticky - yet absolutely delicious. 

I've always loved a good peanut butter and jelly sandwich,

Cyndi