it's the first day of my 4-day weekend. Nothing planned. David and I were going to go to Rhode Island, camp and kayak, but then his employer changed its mind about giving him today off. Then Jessie became ill and going away, even for a night over the weekend, didn't seem a good idea.
Jessie is ... hanging in there. I feel like late yesterday and this morning she was more subdued, perhaps more uncomfortable if not in pain. But she continues to eat her $2.50/can "Grannie's Pot Pie" dog food AND the boneless chicken thighs that I buy at Whole Foods, cook for her and give her pieces of as "treats". Sometimes she doesn't seem to feel like eating; but then a little later, she will eat. As long as she eats...
I met yesterday with my friend R, who is undergoing 12 weeks of chemo for breast cancer, to give her a supply of caps, hats, and scarves from my own chemo-baldness collection. She seems to be doing very well. It is hard to believe how scared she was when we met after her diagnosis and before she started treatment. She is now 7 weeks down, 5 to go. Then some sort of radiation. I had told her, back when she first told me about her diagnosis, that once she started treatment, she would actually feel better, that I thought the hardest thing to bear is the unknown. We make the things we worry about bigger than they can possibly be. Once we know what we actually face, facing it becomes not easy, but easier. R says that helped her. I'm glad. To be truthful, talking with her helps me, makes me find within me the kind of tendrils of strength that empathy, friendship and compassion water and bring forth. It gives me joy to see her facing the future with courage. To the extent that I helped her at all, in any way, I am the one enriched.
Now, less than a week until my CT scan. Following, thankfully, only 48 hours later by a plane ride to Nashville to see Aunt M and Cousin C, and hopefully Cousin D and Crazy L, and maybe even the other Cousin D. And then a drive - which I think I am actually looking forward to, as long as the weather is okay (don't like to drive in heavy rain over Mont Eagle between Tennessee and Georgia; not fun with the 18-wheelers zipping by) - and some lovely days with my growing grandson who will be 4 on October 31, and of course, with his mom and dad and with his uncle, my brother John. Knowing that trip is out there, waiting, gives me a focus past the CT scan. I have no idea why I am anxious, and actually, am not quite sure how anxious I am. I think, if I think about it, I get anxious. So I don't much think about it. It's not like there is anything I can DO about it; what happens, happens. It's out of my control. Why spend the hours I have between this moment right now and the moment I learn the results of the scan, worrying about the results. Worry won't change the results, which actually are likely to be - intellectually at least I recognize this - fine. On the other hand, worry could - would - screw up the time between now and then. So I choose to (try to) not worry.
It is hard sometimes to know when choosing not to worry about something is just avoiding something that needs to be faced. Like when all this started, and I put off going to the doctor longer than I should have. That was not a good "choice," that was avoidance. I guess the crux is the quesiton: is there sonething within your control that you can DO about the thing you are worried about? If I chose not to have the CT scan in the name of "not worrying" about the results, that would be stupid. I hope I'm past that type of choice.
But who knows? We face new challenges all the time, throughout life, don't we? Who can say what causes courage to rise up and support us, not just once, but over and over? I think courage may not so much be a permanent character trait as a renewable one. Each time a new test comes up and confronts us, we are tested again. Maybe having courage is like unfolding a solar panel in our soul. Whenever a challenge blazes down on us, the panel may light up, so long as in the meantime clouds haven't closed in, throwing down their shadows and making it hard for courage to shine through. Maybe finding courage is about keeping that place in our soul open and available, trying to grow it. But there's no guarantees. We just do the best we can, don't we?
Hurrah for the Chilean miners! Hurrah for Chile and its commitment to rescue them. I hope the world media cannibalizes itself except to the extent their interest permits these miners and their families to earn something that supports them and enables them never to have to go down to the bowels of the earth in the service of corporate profits again. I have to wonder if the US would have done the same for trapped miners here. In fact, I have to wonder whether mines in the US are so unsafe that trapped miners would not have been able to survive long enough to be rescued. Bah! A pox on all capitalist greed!
Peace. May all people everywhere know peace and rest today with the same sense of joy and homecoming as 33 Chilean miners are doing.
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