The Scarlet Letter

This morning I ran into my friend T. who is in a similar relationship situation: married, married man, separated, cohabiting. They are like us in everything but the cancer. She does have two small children and was once in The Perfect Marriage so she gets extra points for stigma and logistics.

We talk fast and in a kind of shorthand. We talk about the days that we don’t give a dam what people think. We talk about the days when we care too much and the shame is overwhelming. We talk about the husbands and the wives and being The Other Woman.

We talk about the day to day, the legal and the financial, the social and the psycho-social. Collectively –because of our relationships--we have lost spouses, children, in-laws, parents, friends, colleagues. So many people have judgments and opinions. On a good day I know I am a mirror, on a bad day I think I am dammed.

T. and I agree we need our Scarlet Letters. We need to buy and wear beautiful, embroidered, sequined, gleaming, seductive Big Red A’s.

The Mercy Papers

I just finished this new memoir about caregiving and cancer. It’s a stunning, page-turning read and it’s different than other “my loved one is dying of cancer” books. The spark in this memoir comes from the perspective of a 20-something author and caregiver who is not buying the hospice party line. Here is what caregiving looks like when you are in college, grad school, dating, partying—or at least your friends are.

The Mercy Papers by Robin Romm shows us the misery of losing your mother when you are supposed to be pushing her away, and how inadequate support can be whether it is from friend, lover or hospice. Sounds grim but it’s not because Romm is such a good writer.

Lance in France

In today’s paper I’m reading about Lance Armstrong’s commitment to race again this year. At 37 he’s an old guy in the bike world but as the sportswriters say he’s racing to win and racing to educate about cancer. He wants to bust the stigma of cancer with the hopes that it leads people to get tested and treatments. It is honorable. (This despite how he is regarded at The Amy Winehouse House.see entries on this blog for 7.20.08 and 9.1.08).

But it’s a mixed bag—so to speak. Lance Armstrong and Live Strong are a powerful message of cancer survival. He is the picture of “Cancer won’t kill you so don’t let it stop you.” But is there an unintended message of “cancer can’t kill you”, when in many cases it can?

Am I just being fearful or negative? Am I mad that some cancers make your life hell but they don’t kill you—not very fast anyway? Some days it feels like everyone has prostate cancer but they grow old with it and other folks—yes I’m taking this very personally—have colon or lung or pancreatic cancer and they die even before they fully digest the news. They don’t get back on the bike. They don’t get to date Cheryl Crow. And they die wearing a yellow wrist band.

Anger and Ice

A snow day and it begins so lovely. We cuddle and laugh. Sexy play. We dress like little kids bundled up for the snow and we go outside to clean off the cars. And then the mail comes. My blood runs cold. There is more ice in me than on the cars.

Am I a fool? My head screams, “You are an idiot.”
Is he a narcissist? My head whispers, “Look who he really is.”
Why do I stay? My head says, “He doesn’t care.”
Is this love? My head begs, “Please love yourself.”

The snow day has turned from wonderland to prison. I feel trapped and furious with myself. I want to cry but who do I blame? I want to escape but my pride holds me back. If I could turn back the clock how far would I go? If I got in the car how far would I run?

Worrying

My heart hurts today. I hear his cough and I think, he’s going to die. I see the news and I think, I’ll lose my job. I see the weather report and I think, can I manage the snow. I see my calendar and I think, how do I decide. I see a neighbor and I wonder, what do they think. I see the cross on my altar and I think, is there really a God?

What Have You Changed Your Mind About?

I just finished reading this book of really short essays by scientists and social scientists. The title of the book is the question that was posed to this posse of thinkers by Edge.com

The group riffs on linguistics, chaos theory, artificial intelligence and the size of the universe. All of that was pretty interesting but it’s this question:

“What have you changed your mind about?”

and its corollary:

“Who are you willing to change your mind about?” that have me thinking hard.

It’s about humility and imperfection and staying intellectually, emotionally and spiritually humble.

Am I willing to change my mind about this relationship? About my role? About my behavior? About his and hers and theirs? Am I willing to change my mind about “the right thing to do”? Am I willing to change my mind about who gets hurt? Who got hurt? Am I willing to change my mind about God’s will? About cancer and treatments and death and dying? Am I willing to change my mind about love and what real love behaves like? Am I willing to change my mind about what my mind tells me?

Coaches for Cancer

Today we volunteered at an American Cancer Society event that featured four high school basketball games. Yes, FOUR. Basketball all day long! What is the connection between cancer and basketball? Well, it was a fundraiser of course, but there are greater connections:

1. In cancer, as in basketball, you will have your butt run up and down the court.
2. Seemingly out of nowhere the game will change up on you.
3. All around you people are saying, “Lookin’ Good” while you are thinking, “I can’t breath.”
4. There are time-outs, (Not as many in cancer as there are in basketball), but the time-outs in cancer are so sweet—you begin to believe you can have a life again.
5. When you are in the middle of the game, playing as hard as you can—in both basketball and cancer—you cannot see the many people who are cheering wildly for you to win.

What if You Die of Cancer?

Last night the conversation began around legal stuff. Talking through the financial, the legal, the logistical. The conversation crept close to the issue of timing and what has never been said aloud was finally said: What if you die of cancer? For months we have danced at that edge and then it was said. The urgency and fear that surround all the other issues is right there: Is cancer gone? Lying in wait? Growing rapidly and invisibly? Will cancer make all the other decisions null and void?

There was relief in saying this scary thing we’d both been thinking.
And sadness in knowing that we both already knew.

Fighting With a Friend

Maybe this is one of the hardest things about being a friend.
A long time woman friend told me that she feels sorry for my ex—poor guy-- I left him. It took a couple of hours for the anger to really hit me. Yes, I left but this woman was there the whole time, she was my confidant, she knew what he did and what he didn’t do. She knows my faults and my gross imperfections—it’s a long, long list. But “poor Him”?
It makes me feel crazy. And under the crazy and the anger is just a well of hurt.

Inaguration Day

Yesterday was an important day. The Inauguration of Barack Obama. Watching our country make this change. My husband always tells his classes: “The most important moment in this process is when the incoming president goes to the White House and Picks up the outgoing president and they ride to the inauguration together. Look at that ride and the dignity and decency of that transition of power. Note: There are no automatic weapons.”

I watched that then went back to work. Crazy work day then home to have the neighbors to dinner. Another moment of becoming a couple: We entertain well together.

But looking at another couple and feeling some envy. They have a full life that includes children from both lives. They mix and mingle family members. They are making plans and being active. I read between the lines and know there is real life: alimony, hip replacement, differences in politics and beliefs. But I felt their coupled-ness and longed for it.

We clean up and dress for bed...interrupted by the mirror and passion and pleasure. Those things we are good at.

Is it enough? I wake so tired. Worried about work. About his health. About mine. About what will really make me happy.

Maxine has a Tumor

A friend named Maxine has a tumor in her chest. The good news is that it has not metastasized into the chest wall or into her lungs. It is contained. Surgery will remove it and there is no expectation for chemo or radiation. The bad news is that they will break all of her ribs to get at the tumor in surgery. Recovery from the broken ribs and the operation will be very painful.

I worry for her and I dread her pain. Her husband and daughter are afraid. The complication is that she is the wife of my husband’s best friend. They have supported him through the pain of this year. I have kept my contact minimal—knowing they love me and knowing they are wise enough to know that no one is bad in all this. But still. I have wanted to leave them to him and him to them.

Now Maxine has a tumor.

I call. I leave messages. I send a note. I email. It is all good and well received. But here it is again. Another kind of love—Agape not Eros—in the time of cancer.

Churches are Closing

We went to church this afternoon. We haven’t been to the Catholic Church together in months, but today the Bishop’s decisions about church closings and merges would be announced at the 4pm mass across the Capital Region. I felt it was a moment to experience and I was very curious to see how the simultaneous messaging would be done.

It was done very well. The music was about following Christ wherever he goes. The messages were about all people being welcomed and we also sang about surrendering to God’s will. Coincidence? Then the priest, not the Pastor for our parish but one from across town. Another message: Get ready for change. At the time of the sermon the priest had a humorous opener about dealing with the unexpected and making the most of a bad day then he read a letter from the Bishop---the body of the letter would be read in every church at the same time but one paragraph was customized for each church giving them the news of their church or “planning group.” The news for our church was minimal. One small church in a rural area will close in two years and the other three churches are encouraged to work closely together.

In other churches we knew it had to be worse. Congregations in Troy, Watrevliet and Cohoes were hearing the words “will close”. There had to be gasps and tears and there had to be anger.

I think about our Bishop, Howard Hubbard. A man becomes a priest to have a life of the sprit, to serve God and to one would think—not deal with the congress of the rest of the world. Instead for this man he becomes the CEO of the Diocese and has huge personnel problems, PR and marketing problems, deficit after deficit and then merger upon merger. He is living a CEO nightmare and has to make decisions with committee after committee. I do pray for this guy!

It was great to be in church with John. To hold hands, to sing side by side. To say words we both learned elsewhere and have said before, but now say together. Participating in mass together is a kind of intimacy that goes beyond sex.

Anniversary

Today is my wedding anniversary.
We would have been married 15 years.

Waiting for Guidance

I have this page in my journal from a Course in Miracles class I took years ago. I read it and re-read it. I read it again today:

“Everything happens at the right moment, the acceptable time of the universe. You on earth do not always know what that time is, but if you will follow the guidance of the Spirit, waiting patiently for a clear indication for action then you will be guided aright.”

Mermaid Wisdom

I’m re-reading The Mermaid Chair by Sue Monk Kidd. Today I came across this passage in which the woman’s husband—a psychiatrist—is trying to understand why his wife is having an affair. He says this:

“When a person was in need of cataclysmic change, of a whole new center in the personality, for instance, his or her psyche would induce an infatuation, an erotic attachment, an intense falling-in-love. Falling in love was the most ruthless catalyst on earth. But typically you fall in love with something missing in yourself that you recognized in the other person.”

Funny Movie

OK, so the funny movie I decided to watch was “The Women”, the 2008 remake of the 1939, “The Women”...about a woman who finds out her husband is having an affair and her friends rally round and show her how to value herself and he learns the tragedy of his mistaken ways.

There are a lot of lines in this movie like, “Nothing cures a man of having an affair like too much time with his mistress.” and “No man wants to believe that only his wife would love him for who he really is.”

Anyway, the best part is seeing Jada Pinkett as a lesbian and Meg Ryan as a woman supposedly scorned—she’s just so dam cute even when she’s sad, mad, scorned or confronting her husband’s mistress. Frankly in the dressing room scene where Meg is making her high horse speech with the Other Woman, I’m thinking, Meg you are too annoying; If I was him I’d go for Miss All-Legs-Add-the-Cutlets too.

So maybe I would have been better off watching Airplane (it’s a big metal box that flies but that doesn’t matter) or The Princess Bride (as you wish).

The Women just raised the specter of Other Women, which while better than lung cancer is still a great source of pain.

Coughing

OK, I admit this is one of the ways that I scare myself.

He is coughing.

Yes, it’s winter and cold and he’s around sniffley kids all day and it’s cough and cold season and the humidity is nil. But he’s coughing.

Today a woman from the Lung Cancer Association spoke at a workshop I attended and she casually—oh so casually--said, “A cough and shortness of breath are the only symptoms of lung cancer.”

So all the way home I thought, “Five months? Eight months? Surgery? Hospice?”

And to make myself feel as bad as possible:
“He won’t even know who I am.”

I need to go watch a funny movie now.

Memento Mori

The ancient Romans used to carve “MM” on the bases of statues and on the trunks of trees. The letters stand for Memento Mori: Remember Death. This was not intended to be morbid but to be a reminder that life is short and death is always near. It was a tool for perspective and discernment. Philosophers and writers might keep a skull or bone on their desk for the same reason. Carlos Castaneda recommended that we learn to live with death on our left shoulder and to consult him on our daily decisions.

Maybe it is one of the gifts that cancer gives. Death is close in Cancer Land. You look at the person you are caring for or you notice it in the others you see at chemo or in hospital. Ordinary doctor’s visits are never the same. You never know when a routine check-up will lead to that phone call, “The doctor would like you to come in for another test” or “I’d like you to see a colleague of mine.”

Can we accept death’s presence for the gift it is? Given that death is part of our lives and we see it, what really matters? Given that I will die, what do I really want?

Mmmmmm.

Dance Every Day

“And we should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.”


--Friedrich Nietzsche

More than Just Talking

So we talked about sex and pleasure and not shrinking from a life of sensuality and pleasure. I was surprised that all my worry about talking the man talk with excess concern for delicacy and ego was unnecessary. Turns out John’s ego is not located in his penis. Another positive feature of this great guy. The bonus was that it began a shift to a new level of learning about each other. It makes sense now that when, in the Bible, they say that a man and a woman “knew” each other they were not being euphemistic.