Cycle 6, Day 3: The bounty of friendship, another gift of yoga

After walking with Jasper at the levies this morning (big tide rushing in, harriers trolling for their breakies), I sat with Joe by the French doors in our room for a while and watched the busy-ness of birds outside. Joe had a bit of a rough night, feeling very weak today and funky, but nevertheless left for work around 8:30, which is late for him. Not sure how long he'll last there today, honestly. Even though it's the last time, it might be the worst time, his poor body weakened by all of the chemo and side-effects that came before. Hanging in there...

I continue to be amazed at the kindness and love of the beautiful people we are so graced to call friends. Last night, darling sisters Alexandra and Gillian brought us an enormous pot of delicious chicken soup tied with a red bow, warm, delicious garlic bread, fresh and delicious zucchini bread. And a handmade sweet card. We were all delighted and dazzled by their presence, so moved by their generosity and unbelievable cuteness.

Besides the sheer delight of their presence, just how lit-up they each are, what's so awesome about it, for me, is that I only met these two lovelies in April of last year, when we had the good fortune to meet and spend a week together at Laura's retreat in Careyes, Mexico. For me, it was love at first sight, in that way I've grown to expect through yoga, that the people I meet through the practice become my fast- and heart-friends. I would do anything for them and know they would do anything for me. It's as if we've always known each other, because we see and know the truest thing about each other from the very beginning. Until last night, Alexandra and Gillian had never even met Joe, but still they came, bringing all that love for us to eat.

I never expected this, to meet such wonderful people through Anusara, to rest back into the arms of such a warm and loving community of yogis and yoginis, to be so very loved and to love so very deeply, so very madly, all these new friends all the time, every day.

The gifts of yoga are so much more than flexibility, handstands, peace of mind -- all of that is wonderful, but what is the real gift, the biggest joy, is this super-connectivity to others. I am so grateful to our teacher, Laura, who creates the conditions in which these friendships burgeon and flourish, Laura who consistently inspires each of us to see the good, the light, the beauty all around us. Through these glorious friendships, I touch the One-ness of which we truly are a part. Thanks to these lovely friends, I am reminded every day, on the mat and off, that Love is all that matters, the one and only real purpose of our time here on this earth.

XX

Cycle 6, Day 2: The End, day 2 :)

As happened last time around, Joe has a really puffy face this morning. This only started after the last chemo and that time it only was the first day. Right now he's drinking his morning coffee and reminding me a little of the Beast on that super-cheezy Beauty and the Beast tv series that I loved in the 80s. More pronounced on the right side than on the left. I don't think it means anything, but we're keeping an eye on it. Actually, I'm keeping an eye on it, since Joe has pretty small eye-holes at present. ;>

This is the day that Joe starts the final drug of the chemotherapy: the daily dose of prednisone for 5 days. The prednisone is pure evil in pill form, with the power to turn all joy to misery, every green landscape to Mordor. Joe also administers the shot this morning that is designed to bring his white blood cells back from the brink. If things go as last time, in a week, Joe will have really intense bone-breaking pain in his back, indicating that the Neulasta shot has worked and that he's making the white blood cells his immune system really needs.

Knowing that it's the last time makes the burden so much lighter. But there's still a little ways to go. With happy hearts, but still a little ways.

Nancy and Ben, since Joe opened the last window on the Advent calendar yesterday, I believe that our Adventure is over. Just winding down now, keeping it together, and waiting to feel 100%.

Cycle 6, Day 1: The End!

When we woke up this morning, Joe opened the final window on the beautiful Advent to Freedom calendar that Nancy and Ben made for him 30 days ago, to count down the final month to the last chemo. Behind that final window? Mark Cavendish, a kick-ass sprinter Joe much admires. Perfect inspiration for today!

Of course, Joe is going to feel crappy for about ten more days, especially since tomorrow is the Neulasta shot and the start of 5 days of prednisone, but from that point on, he'll just continually feel better. Oh how wonderful!

We heard such great news from Dr. Maloney today. We'll see him again in two months for a follow-up. Around the same time, Joe will also see the ENT about the mystery Something on his right tonsil, maybe have a biopsy. The doc doesn't think that the Something is lymphoma - unlikely, in his opinion. When I asked whether there was some period of time we had to get through after chemo to be in the clear, like 2 years or 5 years without recurrence, Dr. Maloney said No, Joe's in the clear right now. IN THE CLEAR RIGHT NOW!! Damn it, that feels pretty f*ing great!

More great news: Joe went on a little spin around the neighborhood just now with Laurent, celebrating the end of chemo and Laurent's first bike purchase. So, so glad about that.

So we're home and it feels like we're home free.

With so much love,
A

Cycle 5, Day 21: The Eve of Destruction

As we settle down for the night, Joe is preparing for the start tomorrow of his final cycle of chemo in this great battle he's been waging against lymphoma. It's hard to believe that the last cycle of 6 is finally upon us. By sometime toward the end of January, Joe should start feeling better and better. Wonderful to know that he won't feel better just to get knocked down again by another round of chemo, you know?

This last cycle hasn't been particularly easy. It kind of snuck up on us how hard this is and we keep being surprised by how winded or tired or weak Joe feels. It's still, even after four full months of living with it, so hard to understand any of it, but really, I suppose it doesn't matter that much whether we understand, as long as we survive.

We've been so buoyed and cheered by so many loving people through this entire experience. My list of Good Things About Cancer/Chemo is damn short, but #1 on that list is this ever-expanding, never-flagging support that's come at us from every direction. We will always be grateful for this.

In a way this exhilarated, dazzled, almost-vibrating feeling of connection, of being part of a great and loving whole, really hit me first at our anniversary party in June. That was such a great night! The next morning, I remember Joe and I kept looking at each other, just stunned by how lucky we were to have such terrific people in our lives. And so many of them! I know I felt drunk in love with our life, with our friends, with Joe. After twenty years together, that felt so good.

Not too long after the party, when we knew something serious was wrong with Joe but we weren't sure what, I was terrified. Had I been too happy, was it hubris, were we only going to get 20 years together? Those were terrible dark days for us, as we tried to keep it together until we knew something, until we had a name for the shadow that had entered our lives. It seems almost melodramatic with the benefit of hindsight, but really, that's how it was.

But as soon as we told, let people in on what was going on with Joe, there it was again, stronger than ever: Love, from all sides, powerful, unstoppable. Everyone came out to help us: old friends, new friends, snow friends, bee friends, neighbors, colleagues, even yoga friends of mine who'd never even met Joe showed up with food out of sheer love. Dazzled by all of you: that's what we are.

One more cycle, people, then Joe says he's giving chemo up cold turkey as his resolution for 2010. May we all enjoy good health this year, the better to love each other for a long, long time to come.

XOXOX

2009: Here's your hat, what's your hurry

Lovingly dispatching 2009, sending it on its way, grateful for the many gifts and challenges it delivered, but looking with bright, open eyes to the promise of the new year, the new decade, what feels like an almost-universally shared expectation that "this will be The Year," the year we finally Do It.

So many amazing things about 2009 (full post to come later), but for now I'm just so glad that decade is done. Somewhere I saw it referred to as The Decade of Fear. I just know that the last year was rrrrrough. We had to re-trench, dig deep, re-evaluate everything What a genius opportunity!

Without that, coming in to this year would be so much less conscious for me, less deliberate.

So 2010, bring it on. Whatever you've got in store, no problem - I'm ready.