Then She Appeared

~I know it sounds weird, but then She appeared~ XTC

So this is actually my response to a list of questions a new friend is compiling for a book she's writing about God and religion. But allow me to update you on how I came to be answering these questions in the first place.

I'm assuming that you, dear readers have been following my blatherings about my physical woes and whining human angst. I am grateful that you have indulged me. But like metamorphosis, moulting and shape shifting, I have been shedding my old skin, (literally and figuratively) and growing new wings to better catch the finest breezes.  All cancer treatment completed, it's been time to retool all things; the body, the mind and my soul. First I had to resculpt the physical. Back to my dance mix, adding some pilates and yoga to raise the metabolism and build back atrophied muscle. Daring to go out amongst the public again. Re-connecting with my community of friends and neighbors. Shopping. Eating out. Attending a celebration of life. Experiencing the wide range of emotions that had been corked for too long. And, impulsively attended a spiritual retreat. I have a new commitment to adventure, in this case a 5 hour drive to Medford Oregon. My first time ever to travel that far north. My first time ever going to a spiritual retreat, or any retreat for that matter.

Now let me be clear. I don't do religion. Basically none as an adult. That's not to say that I'm some kind of atheist, I am not, although I have the highest respect for them. I've been a subscriber to the New Thought movement since I was 13, starting with books by Ruth Montgomery (channeled automatic writing) and moving through many versions of a similar philosophy that resonated with me as my understanding and need for expanded knowledge grew. Having a shrink who was also a psychic didn't hurt, either. In 1996 while waiting to pick up my best friend at the Sacramento Airport, I was strangely attracted to a book in a sundries shop. It was called "Conversations With God, An Uncommon Dialogue" by Neale Donald Walsch. The spine of the book was pretty modest, it didn't scream with loud colors or whack fonts. I perused a few pages, and my curiosity was stoked. I actually didn't buy the book at the airport because the shop was a rip, I waited a few months until I could get it at Borders. To say that my paradigm was changed would be an understatement. Many complex concepts were elaborated yet easily described. To quickly summarize, Mr. Walsch was having a tough time in his life and he wrote a frustrated letter to God. Upon completion, instead of tossing the pen aside, his hand hovered over the paper and the pen began moving on it's own. This was the start of his remarkable dialogue with God, a question and answer session that has evolved into a cosmology that has moved and changed the attitudes of folks all over the world. He has written many books since, and I've just about read them all. Earlier this month he posted the retreat invitation on Facebook and I figured a "soul picnic" would be just what I needed. The 3 day retreat was hosted by Mr. Walsch himself with a few other guests including his lovely wife Em Claire who read to us her beautiful poetry in a lyrical, calming voice at the top of each session. I would say we were a group of about 40, and it was so nice to meet like minded people from all over the world who has come together for similar purposes. It was held at a pleasant hotel in Medford with a nice restaurant and comfortable event room.
I'm not going to be effusive or gushy about the experience. I don't want anyone to think I've fallen into a cult and I'm one step away from drinking the Kool Aid. I am merely going to say that the experience was personally transformative and I made a lot of wonderful new friends. It was totally worth it and if it will make the 2nd half of my life even a teeny tiny bit better, then that's a-OK with me. And I promise not to proselytize because I think that's rude and I seriously resent it if someone does that to me. Seeing Mount Shasta up close and personal-like for the first time was pretty cool, too.


So moving on to the questions and my answers:

1. q. Do you believe in God?

 a. Yes.

2. q. How did you come to this belief?

a. Being raised Jewish, God was pretty much in my life from the very start. I ended up having some serious issues with the insane Old Testament God, hence my migration into different perceptions.

       

3. q. How do you define God?

a. That's easy, my mom told me when I asked a version of that question when I was a kid.

God is EVERYTHING and EVERYBODY. The alpha and the omega. All that was, is and will ever be. (yeah, you try getting your head around that at 6 years old.)        

     

4. q. How did you build this?

a. As I said before in question 2, I had a dissatisfaction with most religions telling me that they had all the answers, and if you didn't believe their way you were called nasty names, condemned, persecuted, and basically treated like shit. And also totally unacceptable to  me was the idea that after you die it was nothing. The Void. Black Hole. The spark extinguished. One chance only. Fuck up and too bad for you. (and both my parents believed this!!) To me, it made absolutely no sense that we should believe in this bizarro God, follow His weird words, the ten commandments (even though I couldn't ever see myself coveting someone else's wife) be good, work hard, up and die and then squat. WTF?? How could all these religions claim to be the only real path to God but 2/3rds of the rest of the world's heathens strange scary horrible people  non- believers were shoved into the down elevator, no questions asked. Plus, being a female, the patriarchal nature of religious orthodoxy didn't seem very fair either. After years of my childhood spent arguing with the Rabbis at Hebrew School, I ditched the whole megillah. I pondered on the "favored religion" question and one morning woke up with the answer that all people go to heaven no matter what and they can bring their religions with them if they choose. God was all inclusive. From the one chance void thing I learned about reincarnation. The eternal soul. Immortality. God really was all-forgiving, not a vindictive monster set out to punish us for every transgression. These concepts set the stage for a whole new set of beliefs, and my spiritual journey now resembles the eating of an artichoke, each leaf pulled away to eventually reveal the heart, actually pretty delicious. 

So do I now have all the answers? Is it all wrapped up with a bow and a gift tag? Not by a long shot. Am I a master? Oh, please. But if you ask me if I'm a bit closer to Her, I would have to say, yes indeedy.

     

         

         

           

         

            

         

   

Gettin' Under Their Skin

Taking a break from the Breast Cancer Theme Park for a bit, today's blog topic is "To Speak Out or STFU." I don't spend all my waking hours on Facebook, but the time I'm on there is used to either to share a laugh, get my weird news, read some of the snarky political posts and also to put my two cents in.

I have a few Facebook friends who don't share my progressive views and I do dare to debate the more insipid postings. My rules for dealing with dissenting viewpoints: No personal attacks, no potty mouth, no aggression, use politeness, and back up assertions from non-biased sources, links included. I admit that I am a die-hard liberal. Some people believe that liberalism is a disease. Consider me afflicted. My political leanings evolved from being raised in a Democratic household, and witnessing, over the last 10 years or so, the de-evolution of the Republican party from the semi-sane conservatives into the ideologically rigid and plain whack group of AstroTurf /Tea Party/Ayn Randian hypocrites of today. Not to say that there doesn't exist fringy liberals, I see plenty of postings about chemtrails, HAARP, Fema camps, developing a local currency because the dollar is going to fail, etc, etc. I usually don't respond to that, what could I possibly say? Conspiracy theorists abound on both sides.

What do I take to task? Blatant LIES. Now, I'm not one of the people who totally idolize President Obama. He's human, with all of the attendant failings. His insistence on bi-partisanship makes me nuts. Don't get me started on Afghanistan, health insurance reform compromises, or the accelerated federal assault on marijuana.  BUT: If I see a posting about him not being a US Citizen and therefore a Kenyan treasonous impostor man-child who illegally resides in the "White" house, I will counter with some serious logic. When I see a posting claiming that Obama has accomplished absolutely NOTHING during his tenure so far, I post lists indicating otherwise. May I add that those lists don't come from "Media Matters For America" (Fox "News' " new boogeyman) "The Daily Kos", or any other sites reeking of partisanship. I like to quote "FactCheck.org," because they'll slam Obama as well as anyone else who may be riding the bullshit train. But again, rabid haters of anything that stinks of the evil socialist godless left claim that "FactCheck" is too liberal. (????) According to the folks who proudly display their Obama Derangement Syndrome, nothing I can say would make them calm the fuck down. Their hatred of the man is so palpable, if they had physical access to the poor guy, they'd have a good ol' time lynching.

There was a brief time when I had a Facebook "friendship" with a guy who was so right wing I've come to the conclusion he was most likely a Rovian "Americans For Prosperity" plant. We went round and round about just about everything politic. He DID push me to make my arguments stronger, although he had no problem quoting from Koch Bros.think tank reports. He claimed to be a Mormon anti-abortion, homophobic prison guard (liar, he worked for the phone company) who believed that a woman's godly purpose should be to have as many babies as she could. He even hinted to me that my having only one child made me a slacker. During the debt ceiling crisis he started bullying me. I went to bed angry and woke up the next morning angrier. I private messaged  him how I felt.  His response was, "If I can't get people to change, then I'm wasting my time". Wow. So I should become a Mormon anti-baby killing Tea Party bigot. Yeah, that's gonna happen. I "blocked" him the moment I read that.

In case you didn't already know, "blocking" is a nifty murderous feature of Facebook. You just go into your settings, write the offender's name into your "to be blocked" list and poof, they are GONE. You can't see their posts or comments, send them messages or even view their profile pages ever again. Of course it goes vice-versa. You get a cloak of invisibility as well. Now, I'm not a huge fan of using the block. I think the exchange of ideas is important, no matter how thick some people are. I know it's pretty fruitless with folks who do believe that left leaning people are in league with the devil. I think I've blocked three people, total. The other two were fond of making juvenile personal attacks. Having been bullied to madness as a schoolgirl, I certainly don't need some asshole calling me nasty names as an adult. So I made them begone. When someone blocks a person, their posts and comments are disappeared. It's pretty obvious when reading a thread of comments to see that the dialogue is inconsistent, especially when a person is addressed by name and there's no visible correspondence from the named person. I joined a Facebook cancer support group a couple of weeks ago. I "friended" a gal from the group, an avowed Obama hater. I NEVER brought up my politics in the cancer group. I was supportive and the other members were very sweet  and welcomed me graciously.  It was a closed group so we could vent whatever we wanted as we dealt with our illness.

The Obama detester posted a lot of spew on her own personal page. She was not an intellectual giant by any measure, I should have known how this would all end up. And it did end, badly. I fact'd her mis-information politely but she ended up chastising me in public, telling me that many of her friends had blocked me because of my "holier than thou" attitude. I private messaged her (I don't deal with any disagreements or real personal stuff in public threads) and told her if she chose to censor my comments, I would totally refrain from participating in the future. The exchange devolved to her last thoughtful three words, "Fuck off, Carolyn!". Then she used the block on me. Oh it gets stupider. Ms. "NOBAMA" went into the cancer group and convinced the other members I was Satan's spawn, calling me a hypocrite and who knows what else. The group administrator told me privately that it was pretty evil stuff and she told "I HATE HATE HATE OBAMA!!!" to get rid of the scummy comments because it kinda looked bad to anyone who wanted to join. In the following few days I proceeded to post a few cancer related articles. Crickets. Nothing. I figured out that "ANYONE BUT OBAMA!!!" had persuaded all the other members to block me. I finally left the group, I'm sure it was good riddance.There is no point in making myself nuts over an obvious shunning for something so totally ridiculous. But then I noticed that on other conservative friend's posts I had also been blocked by several people I didn't even know. How did I become so offensive?  I do use humor and sometimes sarcasm. Koch Bros.guy certainly didn't understand sarcasm at all. Is this a conservative trait? Am I just being misunderstood?  Or do I get under their skin like scabies? Should I just STFU and accept that nothing I say really matters? Should I end all my comments with " :) " ?  (good god!)  I honestly thought that using Facebook as a forum for my message/s was a good thing. But then I consider the other people who spoke out who didn't always fare well, think Jesus, JFK, RFK, MLK, Mevers, Malcolm X, amongst many other martyrs throughout history. Perhaps my skin is just too thin.

Politiics is indeed a ruthless game. Our congress hasn't been as divided since the Civil War. I think it's a reflection of the general American public. Passions explode, people are going batshit crazy. We have "Fox News" where the truth goes to die. On the other side we have "Natural News" where they assert  if a person eats organic vegan, they will never ever get cancer. Also in the crazytown mashup we have numerous YouTube wackos spouting utter garbage that way too many people take as the gospel truth, photoshopped photos, horribly slanted opinion blogs, web insanity galore. And of course if it's on the internet, it's gotta be true. There's no critical thinking. No logic. Nobody's home and the lights have been OFF since forever. How can one politely opposing voice ever get through all that noise? Opinion has become the new truth. It's all one rollicking WTF? As the band REM sings, "Not everyone can carry the weight of the world".  But in another verse the song goes, "Talkin' about the passion." Is it possible to reconcile the two? Do we tolerate injustice in fear that nobody is listening (or worse)?  Are we heading towards another oligarchy? Can we continue to ignore climate change whilst railing against our national debt assuming that there will actually be a livable planet to leave to our grandchildren? Should we simply forgo women's health to justify religious zealots? Am I really a "holier than thou" liberal elitist? And if so, does that make me an automatic leper in certain circles? Should I continue to just preach to the choir? Is that all life is, a popularity contest? (Akin to some Facebook users who have like over 4000 "friends")  Honestly, I'm in total quandry. Should I continue to risk pissing off some people off so much that they hit the kill switch on me or should I just stay safe and STFU? Maybe one day I'll find the balance. Or not.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

I have only one chemo session left to endure. I must admit that this new and better chemo is much easier than the beginning 4. No nausea, and my oncologist even let me take a miss on the shot that made the bones produce more white cells, my count has been through the roof. That hellish shot threw my entire body in the throes of major pain, I had to eat opiate medication like candy. The only irritant now is mood fluctuation and a huge weight gain due to my new addiction to carbs and the steroids in the chemo. Yes, I am puffy. And bald.  Dislike, dislike.

So here's the new issue. During my penultimate chemo session my charismatic but kind of lazy oncologist points out that my blood tests have revealed rising alkaline phosphatase levels. What this indicates is either A. liver failure or B. bone cancer. Well rest assured my liver  enzymes are just fine, thank you very much. So it could be the B.for bone cancer. He says it's pretty likely that since my breast cancer was so aggressive it could relocate to just about any part of my body. He says a bone scan will be scheduled and then starts walking back to his office. I ask his back how do we tell if it spreads say, to my liver, and he glibly answers that there's no test to tell, just come back if my liver hurts. Dr. Charisma nails it again, WHOO! If he were to turn back around, do his hands pointed at me like pretend guns with a big smile and go "HEY!", it would be no surprise. I then ask the nurses what they usually do for bone cancer...the treatments are basically palliative it can't really be cured., and I most likely be tethered to the Chemo Pavilion for whatever would be the rest of my life. The usual standard answer from the creepily cheery staff is that many people go on for ten years or more with bone cancer. Of course the earliest they can schedule the scan is the following week. So I have 6 days of research and insane emotional flux ahead of me. Can you say MIND FUCK?

Now you know that the first thing I do is google everything I can about these rising blood levels and bone cancer. Absolutely terrifying. I pretty much decided that if I tested positive, I'm blowing this joint, I'm on a plane to wherever and will play beat the clock. But you already know my attitude about that crap, no reason to get all morbid again. I don't know why I google medical shit, it is always horrible. I try to be informed, but jeez...there really is such a thing as "too much information".

So the bone scan is done in two parts. I get there at 10 am and they inject me with radioactive isotopes. I sure wish I could have glowed, that would have been sooo cool. I return at 1 pm and they lay me down in a machine that takes intense pictures of my bones. It lasts about 40 minutes. Scans are easy. I can hold still and and am not claustrophobic. Sometimes I just fall asleep. But this time I did some serious thinking. realizing that this whole epic has just been surreal. It's like a bad Dali movie, with people just coming at me and DOING all this stuff to me. Surgery, hyperbarics, chemo, scans, oh I could go on. I just show up and people do whack shit to me. I don't participate in any other way.

The bone scan results come in the next day. It revealed that I had a repaired hip (broken 10 years ago, DUH!) but nothing else. I had been assured that this particular scan could identify as little as 10% osteo loss. I could maybe take some comfort that there was no evidence of cancerous tumors eating at my bones, but that leaves the obvious query. WTF is making my alkaline phosphatase go consistently higher? I leave a message for  Dr. Charisma to call me back. The next day I get a call from the chemo nurse that they have sent orders for blood work to the diagnostics center, I need to go for a draw. Now, I usually wait until the absolutely last minute to go to the vampires. I absolutely hate it, always have. As a little kid the first time they tried to stick me for a sample I escaped and ended up about 5 floors higher in the medical plaza. They caught me, brought me back and strapped  me down while I screamed bloody murder. You would think all my diabetic needle fun would get me used to venal puncture. No, I still nearly faint, especially if it's a bad phlebotomist. I've kicked an incompetent idiot out of my hospital room once. It feels icky even writing about it. But yesterday I hauled ass to the vampires, no waiting, Arrived ready and eager in 10 minutes flat.

I ask the phlebotomist how soon we can expect the results. She tells me that it has to be overnighted to a lab in SALT LAKE CITY, results back in 3-5 BUSINESS DAYS. Joys. At the point of this writing, I am back in limbo land...aah do the limbo dance mon.

During all this mess, there have been days where I wish I didn't have to get out of bed. I want to stay in my weird dreamland where I can create reality, have some control. Being conscious can get way out of hand. But there are things to do. I have responsibilities. I have been posting insane Police Blotters from my hometown on Facebook since signing up over a year ago. I know I have a lot of regular readers, even though they don't always leave comments. Now that our local paper has gone paywall, I've actually been translating from the original Sheriff Department daily logs. Unfortunately I can no longer verify accuracy, there are many codes that are particular to our locale. I would have to call 911 to find out what they mean, and then they'd admonish me for abusing the emergency system and then I'd end up in the Blotter myself.

Another little project has been "Wig O' The Day". I don't do bald well, and I decided at the beginning of all this mess I was going to get crazy ass wigs, rather than the boring "normal" look. It's pretty obvious who's wearing a wig at the Chemo Pavilion, even if they think they blend. Might as well get jiggy with the wiggy. I had to visit a "Costume Shop" on the net to find what I was looking for. That virtual shopping cart was overflowing by the time I checked out. And what fun when they arrived! I did a Skype hair show for a dear friend. We're talking fluorescent pink bob, tinsely razor two tone cuts, princess long platinum blonde, etc. The gamut. The works. Major insanity. True JOYS. My husband has been taking and posting pictures of me in a different wig every day. (Hence "Wig O' The Day" for you slow ones out there) It's gotten me motivated to get dressed and made up. 

On fluorescent pink bob day, I decided that I wanted BBQ ribs. Since I was already dressed I decided it was time to actually "go out". You must understand that I've been incredibly reclusive during this convalescence. Not feeling particularly attractive or energetic isn't much to get me in the public eye, especially in a small town where everybody is all up in everybody else's business. So the decision to walk to the restaurant sporting hair so bright a person could be blinded was pretty monumental. We arrived early, (my appetite has been so unpredictable) and the place was pretty much empty except for another booth occupied by a group of young adults. We were seated directly across from them. Being a person who was mercilessly bullied as a kid, I can sense derision and deprecation instantly. Those white trashy kids were of course making fun of me in my wig. They tried to hide it, but did a really crappy job. After a few minutes of tolerating their rudeness, I leaned over to their table and said to them calmly, "When you get cancer and you have chemo, you can pick out any wig you want."  Dead silence. They got OWNED. And they'll probably not forget the crazy cancer lady wearing the intense pink wig in the restaurant that afternoon. So THANK YOU CANCER. I will no longer take any shit from anyone, including Dr. Charisma, or any a-hole who opens up their yap and says something stupid or nasty. I will however accept compliments as a sacred gift. This is the new me. Get used to it or bugger off.

And yet I continue to wait for answers. Some things never change, no matter what.  

Life inside and out of the Chemo Pavillion.

Yesterday they dosed me with my second round of insecticides. The "Chemo Pavilion" is a pretty jovial bunch of cancer patients, of which I am usually the youngest. Our lounge chairs are all placed in somewhat of a circle, encouraging us to share with each other our various brands of cancer and scary descriptions of surgeries. Most are way worse off than me, which does make me feel better in a kind of icky way. I am grateful to my "Chemo nurse buddy". She appreciates my droll humor and is actually glad to have a patient as snarky as me for a change. I am glad that she is skilled with implanting my IV, is thorough with instructions and suggestions and happy to prescribe just about anything I want. One of the drugs is bright orange, thus turning my pee the same color. After relieving myself after  yesterday's "treatment", I yelled out "Boy I'm glad I wore orange underwear today, my piss was ON FIRE!" That brought a rousing laugh amongst the staff.  Still, having to have chemotherapy is  suckful in so many lousy ways.

Today's chemo is not yo granpa's chemo. They are pretty good with the anti-nausea meds, both infused and oral. But it still doesn't get rid of ALL the nausea, no matter what. I end up with low level yuck from the day after infusion until maybe 5 days later. I go from ravenous to no appetite at all. My diabetic blood sugars are a mess, which is really a pisser because it's taken me 15 years to get them under control. But the biggest indignity of all: Losing my hair. It's not like I didn't know it was going to happen, but still...SHIT! This last weekend was the beginning of the end. I had some tangles which I was trying to fix and the hair just slid out. In weird bunches. Nowhere else but on my head, so far. I had planned to get my head shaved as soon as this started, but I was so pissed off I took scissors to the situation and before I knew it I am now sporting 1/2 inch buzzy fuzzy bizarro do. And it's even weirder because it does take a bit of pulling for my hair to actually come out, but not near as much as normal.

The local cancer aid society will give me $75 toward a wig. I have a pretty nice hat collection which not only looks stylin but also keeps my head warm. I think I'll take a miss on the wigs and just do hats. The chapeau I wore yesterday gleaned me a lot of compliments yesterday at the "Chemo Pavilion" . Much easier than wigging it.

Another super injustice of this "treatment" is the re-appearance of the Adult Acne show. Yet another reason to just hibernate through this mess. Not to mention fatigue. Sometimes it's all I can muster to just step outside and breathe the air. Or go to the mailbox. Not that I had robust energy before the "Breast Cancer Theme Park"...but I must say that the amount of rest I require these days is huge. I'm sure my chronic depression plays a large part in this process as well. These side effects just can't raise my happiness quotient AT ALL. The only thing that sort of keeps me feeling just a little better is that I know it could be so much worse. I've seen super worse at the Chemo Pavilion. If worse can make it through, I suppose I can. Snarkily all the way.