One of the hardest moments so far was during my bone scan. At the time, it was clear I had cancer that had moved beyond local, but we were finding out if it had metastasized into my bones. After getting the IV, the procedure seemed benign, if boring. I lay in the ct-scan tube while it moved slowly up my body.
Just when I thought it was over, the tech came in and asked me to put my arms up over my head and lay them on the table. This, with the lymph node surgery and old shoulder injuries, I could not do. So I raised them as high as I could, about 45 degrees over head and held. This, if you wondered, is definitely a form of torture. Already fatigued, my body started shaking from the exertion and pain.
I started to cry. As my body shook with a few sobs, I realized I was going to distort the film and, through sheer, angry effort, raked back the tears. It hurt more than my arms. They let me out just a few minutes later and it was clear I had been crying. Pissed off, ashamed and holding onto my remaining dignity and self-control, I stared at the floor, wiping my eyes, a picture of suppressed rage and hurt.
The young tech looked at me standing there, hesitated, and then, gently, almost sheepishly, lay a hand on my shoulder for less than a second. It was clear he didn't plan to do this, or even want to. It jus came out of him. Neither of us said a word.
I can still feel that touch, and the way it almost undid me. I did not look at him or thank him. I am doing that now.
So here they are, the yin and yang of the whole experience, the terrible pain and fear, the compassion and love pouring from those around me, the urge to help, to take some small corner of the burden. The desperate desire of my parents, as I would feel it for my children, to please god, let it be me instead. The longing to help, to support, to be there. I have been told "I love you" more times this month than all the years before. And I am happy.
I am not nuts enough to wish this on myself. I don't think it is worth the pain to have the sweetness. Yet, I am deeply grateful they come as a package. The generosity of my friends and family, and the kindness of strangers, Iinked inextricably with this terrible disease. Sweetness and sorrow. Like life.
Tomorrow is my birthday. Please help me celebrate it by finding something sad, scary or angry, and take a moment to find the sweetness in it. There is an opportunity for growth, for compassion, for forgiveness in all adversity. Find it and secretly wish me a happy birthday as you do. I love the thought of many small moments of grace being created or simply recognized, like little sparkles from my Glinda wand. Happy Birthday to me!!!!
Lovely writing, Colleen. Your insight is a gift to all of us, as well as to you (Happy Birthday!) to notice the sweet, even in the painful. I tried to post this comment earlier and am surprised it didn't work but will try to remember to say this right, a second time. Lately I've been noticing to put my focused, hopeful intention into the many tasks we do again and again, every day. It is like a moving prayer, a vinyassa (like Sun Salutation in yoga) to make one's coffee as perfectly as possible, morning after morning. Coffee is just an example, there are many of these sweet, repetitive motions throughout the day I am noticing; and of course we are blessed/lucky to have these opportunities to be focused, to try hard, to do good. I commend you for your many good habits and for your strength & optimism to reap the sweet out of your painful situation. Love, xo E
ReplyDeleteI will be celebrating with you. Happy birthday, Colleen!
ReplyDeleteTrying is my word. How I say it is how one can feel and I am trying to say it nicely but oh life is trying! I am trying to say now how much I hope you have a special birthday as I try to get it across that I wish I was with you today. I hope you can try and have 5 minutes today without cancer thoughts.
ReplyDeleteHAPPY BIRTHDAY, Colleen!
ReplyDeleteColleen,
ReplyDeleteYour words are very eloquent and deeply touch my heart and soul. I thought of a sadness in my life and did feel the sweetness in it as well. Thank you for making me aware of that moment. Happy Birthday!
Colleen, there are many people standing with you. My mom died of cancer at 57 (this was over 20 years ago), and I still remember the pain and suffering she went through. I will certainly lift you up in prayer. When you are discouraged, Colleen, turn to Psalm 34:18 for encouragement. The first 30-40 Psalms or so are good for a lift. Peace to you, Colleen.
ReplyDeleteHey Colleen Happy Birthday! Thanks for sharing whats going on, its very inspirational to see you work through it all, and stay upbeat but grounded. And you are performing several songs, including Proud Mary this week? You go!
ReplyDeleteDarius
As fellows November babies we came into a world of loss and beauty. As the trees conserve their resources against the coming of winter the world is turned doubly beautiful by the changing color of the leaves, their crisp scent, and the rustle undefoot as they lie dead on the ground. Is it any wonder that Autumn is my favorite time of year? It is life in all its beauty and sorrow. Every change, even the bad ones, contains some tiny grain of beauty. We might miss celebrating those moments, but they leave their mark on us regardless. (If the foregoing is true, then there is sadness in good things as well. By that thinking, in some way you might mourn your cancer when it is gone.) Stay strong, Colleen; there is wonder and beauty all around you.
ReplyDeleteheard a song recently that said something like what if our blessings come from raindrops, tears, or sleepless nights... We might rightfully want to wish them away and/or wish we didn't experience them but in some ways we may miss something or miss being able to help someone in the future if we didn't have these experiences ourselves. God bless...
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