On the Verge…The Art of Emotional Pragmatism

Through It (1)

In the infinity of life where I am, all is perfect, whole and complete….Louise Hay

This is one of the many affirmations I say each day, but it became hard to believe this week.  Somehow it all comes down to trust, even when the biopsy you so hoped would be negative turned out to be positive for cancer.  That little clown of a girl has cancer, a really nasty kind that could leave her gone from us more quickly then we hoped.  Is there any way to reconcile that in your head; is there any way to get through that?  I believe that everything is either a blessing or a lesson.  Which is this?

The Kübler-Ross model, or the five stages of grief, is a series of emotional stages experienced when faced with impending death or death of someone. The five stages are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance.  I’m pretty sure I’ve hit them all and believe it or not I arrived at acceptance quickly with the help of some very dear people.

In a conversation with our superhero vet, Dr. Lane, several things became clear.  Chemo for this cancer is five rounds three weeks apart and is not only covered by insurance but isn’t the violent reactive chemo seen so often in humans.  A day at the vet (we’ve decided to start calling it the spa) home that evening and a good sleep through the night and probably the next day.  She won’t be herself certainly but she won’t be devastatingly ill either.  That would give me time with her sister; time to begin re-socializing her to new places and new people, possibly even new dogs.

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The average extension of her life with chemo, I’m going to repeat on average, is seven months.  I damn near fainted at that very tiny amount of time but defying average requires that cancer hasn’t spread and no cells were found in her liver (the first place it usually shows up).  Her lungs are clear, her heart is strong and her systems are good i.e. she’s got perfect poop…even in recovery after surgery.  So my little Lina has a very good chance of beating the odds in terms of time with us.  Significant in this equation is the fact that she and Toto will be eight years old in February and the normal average (there’s that word again) lifespan for these dogs is about nine or ten.

So these are the facts, kinda, but what about quality of life?  It’s all about Q of L baby as Cookie used to say.  The chances are that she will be the same as she is today until she’s not and she will tell you, I know like I know like I know.  So for instance, last Monday when she came home there was no way to get a pill in her.  These are pain pills child you’re going to be miserable without them.  And antibiotics, I refuse to watch a dog die of sepsis…do you hear me?  She was having none of it, drooling, shaking her head doing that clucking sound trying to get the taste out of her mouth…jeez.  But I won, cause I’m the mother that’s why.  One peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a multigrain sandwich round given at rapid fire every other bite going to Toto then the one with the pill to Lina then back to Toto and continued bites without a pill.  Oh yes I won, make no mistake about it but the point is she had joy in eating the sandwich, comes running for it now.   When she eats the food goes all over, even into the water bowl, so she scours the place for the remnants and actually bobs for the nuggets in the water bowl.  She’s truly a clown to be kept around as long as we can and as long as she can.

This all sounds very matter of fact but I can assure you it was an emotional train wreck.  The not knowing and then finding out while I’m on a dealer visit.  The kindness and beautifully discreet way these colleagues left the room while I took the call was only one of the many ways I was truly blessed.  This led to a very interesting Ordinary Legacy moment about dogs living in the moment and not being burdened with the knowledge that they will someday die.  We should do the same, go drive that car you always wanted to, visit that country, learn to knit, stay in the moment and not worry about the terror management of dying someday.

The texts and phone calls that simply said, here if you need me or just checking in or just wanted to hear your voice or how’s you were timely and passionate.  I was and am still surrounded by caring people who know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it.  Don’t get me wrong there are those people who inevitably will want to tell you their story about the time their dog…..I stayed with them in the moment knowing that they weren’t yet healed but in the back of my mind I’m screaming shut the hell up.  Therein lays one of the best lessons about recognizing who can be there with you and who can’t and deciding what you want to do with those people.

We’ve begun making our Christmas cookies as a way of infusing some normal around here, and is there anything better for the spirit than the smell of anise cookies filling the house?  I can assure you there really isn’t…

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And so we’ve prepared to accept our fate and we have a plan.  We will begin chemo sometime after Christmas and keep a watchful eye on the Q of L baby.  We will live in those wonderful dog moments and begin to transition Toto (and me) into the inevitable life without Lina.  We will make it about play and pictures and life not about death.  Yes that is the lesson and the blessing.

On the Verge…Part One

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Since I’ve rearranged the furniture in my office I’ve become that woman.  I could run for mayor of Stowe Lane if ever the current mayor resigns, thankfully that is very unlikely.  But Friday it was a good thing because my friend Henry, the neighborhood curmudgeon, came home from the hospital.  He was scheduled for back surgery because he’s been in so much pain but an infection in his foot postponed it.  I’ve been watching his decline for a few weeks, maybe months, and I cringe each time he gets in his car.

Every time an older person gets an infection I hold my breath, sepsis sneaks up on our seniors and they can’t fight back.  Of course my mind goes directly to I wonder if he got this infection for a reason, the reason remains to be seen and there is a much greater power than me in control so I let it go.  Doesn’t stop the situation from being so reminiscent of life with Thomas a decade ago.  To this day I can’t help thinking a decision I made effected his outcome even though I’ve learned I don’t have that kind of power.

Henry didn’t want the ambulance to bring him home, there is this stubborn sense of pride that goes with nearly every one of these gentlemen of a certain age, and I’m guessing he is WW2 veteran vintage.  So somehow his wife got him parked near the sidewalk and went in to get his walker while he was supposed to sit still. He began inching his way out of the car.  I don’t have to tell you what happened, I don’t have to tell you how fast I ran, I don’t have to tell you that it was nearly the death of us both getting him up the sidewalk, two small flights of stairs and across a beautifully carpeted living room (in slippers) and hallway to the bathroom.

I am not the same person I was when I did this for Thomas, even though I remember how and use the correct positioning, my body is a decade older and I am not nearly as strong as I once was.  I could feel it in my hip and my knees and my back practically carrying a 170 lb. man.  I prayed very hard for the strength to hold on to him and me…apparently Thomas was watching over us both because we made it. Henry and his wife were both grateful despite the “accident” that had to be taken care of in the bathroom and then the walk to Henry’s favorite chair.  Barbara asked for my number which I readily gave her but secretly hoped she wouldn’t have to use.

Back at my desk with the girls laying around me I’m going through emails and trying not to unleash a damn good and well deserved rant on a darling manager who has no idea that while he is playing big man on campus and acting like an immature smartass that there is a family on Stowe Lane trying to figure out how they are going to get through the afternoon.  The profound dichotomy of priorities was astounding to me.

Of all the things I’ve learned this afternoon not the least of which is that I can’t keep either one of these men in my head or I will jump into fix mode and I am incapable of fixing certain things.  My hunch, no I know like I know that the outcome for both of them may not be good whether I’m in it or not.

And so for Mr. GM “it’s just cars” and the faster he grows to understand that one fact the faster his potential as a human being will grow.  He is well intended but lacks maturity.  I fought the full moon to use silence as the better answer to the many emails…best for us both.

As for Henry, that I am his only friend on Stowe Lane brings me great joy, his recovery and return to his simple life of going to get his sandwich and clean his car each day will bring me greater joy. I remain cautiously optimistic for them both, reminiscences be damned.

But I am worried about my Lina she hasn’t been herself either lately.  Just little things that could easily be explained by her tentative nature, until later on Friday they couldn’t be anymore.  She didn’t eat.  This sounds so random but for my Lina not to eat is cause for alarm.  It simply has never happened.

One look at her gums and I knew we were in crisis so it was off to the vet we go.  Thankfully, by calling the emergency number I was able to avoid going to the chaos of the Oradell Hospital emergency room.  Instead she met me at the Ramsey hospital where there was no one in the building.  I’m not sure after the day I’d already had that I was prepared for the next few hours but I learned that I am definitely the one you want speaking on your behalf in a crisis earlier thoughts of doubt about Thomas decisions abandoned.

Bleeding into her tummy could mean one of several things ranging from manageable to euthanasia.  My Lina was very sick and here I thought she was mad about getting a bath that day.  Think about how courageous this little girl was getting a bath while bleeding internally.  My heart breaks for her courage.  I’ll spare the rest of the gruesome conversation but suffice to say we had a plan (and an estimate of cost) to proceed with sonograms and ex-rays and confirmations of a mass in the spleen and pre-op underway.  Phone calls made and friends by my side (which I normally don’t do but I’m learning) and we go in to see her before the procedure where she is laying on the table as if she were about to have her picture taken.  She was so brave, not something she is known for, no crying no shaking just patient on the verge of serene…uncanny but I was grateful and at the same time frightened to death of the uncharacteristic demeanor is if it meant she already had one foot on the other side.

Muriel and I waited as only we could, in comfortable silence infused with fits of laughter and snippets of stories and waiting room nostalgia.  It was hours, it was cold, and it was mind wandering madness.

God love that little girl she came through, which Martina (tucked at home praying in her just-like-her-grandmother-taught-her way) knew all along. Lina was so generous in recovery to open her eyes and raise her head at the sound of my voice that I felt like she would be alright at the very least out of danger for the moment. Thank you little one.

So Muriel took me home, in the pouring rain, to a glass of wine and Lina’s sister Toto who had never been without her.  Toto was mad at me to begin with for having her nails clipped and her haircut but to come home without her sister just might be unforgivable.  She wouldn’t come up on the bed; she did her business quickly and went right back to sit in my chair where she would return over and over after each imposition of eating or walking.  She is in pain without her sister but she too is being brave. I think I’m being brave too but I was happy enough to just stay in my pajamas and withdraw with Toto all day on Saturday.

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There have been tiny steady improvements over the last two days, she walked a few steps to see me for a few minutes Saturday morning which both thrilled me and broke my heart.  She pooped, she ate some breakfast, her blood count improved which would mean avoiding a transfusion, and her heartbeat is more regulated.  There are, however, the ever present biopsy results to await.  BENIGN would be good God…OK? For both Lina and Toto’s sake.  We hope to bring her home tomorrow.  Stay tuned…

The Spaces and Systems of…..Creativity?

Creativity

I didn’t think the creative process came naturally to me, I was wrong.  Just because you’re not bohemian doesn’t mean you’re not creative.  I am creative, I am an artist, I am creative, I am a process improver, I am creative, I am a cook, I am creative, I am a photographer.  There I said it.

Turns out spaces and systems are my trappings.  My creative physical space has recently been transformed through the generosity of a friend and the rearranging of furniture.  It has proven to be one of the single best boosts I’ve given my brain, my morale, my creativity in quite some time.  The funny thing is I didn’t really think any of those things were lacking until I realized…they were.  Jeff Goins said, “But if all you ever do is work in a mess, don’t be surprised if you feel unprepared for the Muse when she shows up. And don’t be surprised if she doesn’t come at all. She’s waiting for you to get your act together…”   To create your space you must ruthlessly delete, use what you have, supplies must be at the ready, rearrange the furniture, let the sun shine in and be very particular about your office mates.

SpaceSupplies at the Ready

Office Mates

The down side to this space is I never want to leave it.  Dangerous…

And my systems, once delegated to a non-creative point of view, proved themselves and came into full play in my kitchen.  Thanksgiving can be a daunting meal to prepare, even for those you love, and they love you.  To create a wonderful meal without the stress and anxiety you must, embrace the “night before”, start with an empty dishwasher, mise en place, clean as you go and be very particular about who you let in your kitchen. I don’t let anyone in my kitchen and bless the day I moved to a kitchen with a pass through.  Just sayin.  The long standing advice is usually not to try anything new on Thanksgiving, nothing that’s not familiar, tried and true.  Oh stop it, summon your inner chef and go for it. As long as it fits into your system of food prep what the hell do you have to lose?  Food prep in itself is a system, I long ago gave up the Norman Rockwell presentation for a turkey cut into eight pieces and roasted in an hour and a half instead of the usual 3-4 hours, table set and stock prep the night before, turkey in-sides prepped, turkey out-sides in.

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The downside to this system…there isn’t one.  You have all the food on the table at the same time and you enjoy your company, truly priceless.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays; it involves friends, family, food and gratitude.  Mine was perfect as usual, for this I am eternally grateful. Hope yours was the same, if not, just come here next year there’s plenty of room.

 

 

Willkommen

Cabaret (2)

Metaphorically, a “blue moon” is a rare event, as in the expression “once in a blue moon”. But there we were living a once in a blue moon day. Naturally, what would turn out to be a whirlwind, keep your eyes wide open, or it will all be a blur weekend, started the day before with a trek out of Buffalo by detour of the huge snow storm that dropped 6 feet, yes feet, of snow in the south towns. They would drive most of the day and part of the night to arrive on my doorstep around ten pm.  You would think that retiring would be in order after such a long day but once the first words came out the rest simply had to follow.  I had the good fortune to see my Summer Sister, Kyle, just the week before but Kate, my dear Kate, and I hadn’t had a face to face good chat in dare I say…a couple of years.  Oh we mustn’t go that long again.  And so it began, with wine, and soup and stories and laughter and tears and sharing and Averna…to be elaborated on at a later date.

My girls, Toto and Lina, and I retired to my newly rearrange, updated, fabulous office for the night while the other girls took the master.  It was a bit of a struggle trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements with two dogs that didn’t understand why there was a gate involved and the pillow-top mattress wasn’t under their butts.  We made it work.

Cabaret (1)

The reason we were all together was to go into the city to see Cabaret. Kyle would be doing a production early next year and there was “research” to be done.  My good fortune was two-fold, I got to see Cabaret but I got to see Cabaret with the two people who had taught me the most about theater.  There’s a part of me that used to think that one shouldn’t have to be taught about theater but oh the glory of knowing the intricacy and the rationale and the history and the roles and the ability to discuss the performance intelligently with such studied lovers of the venue is priceless.  There is an assurance that what you’re feeling, and oh the feeling evoked in this performance, was carefully and lovingly thought out entirely for your benefit.  In a good performance you are transported through the acting-the set-the music-the lighting as if it were only one entity.  The lighting was amazing.  The end of a performance is surely its greatest measure of success, have you been entertained, have you been moved, have you been fulfilled. Yes, yes and yes.  Frankly I was a mess, moved to breathless.  We all needed to process and share and rejoice in the magnificence that was Cabaret led masterfully by Alan Cumming.

Luckily we had a lovely walk back to our car which had been strategically parked just far enough away from the theater to allow for this process and provide a wonderfully easy escape route back to Jersey where we would have dinner together with my dear friend Sandra. Dinner was at a favorite restaurant, Andiamo, where they know my name and care deeply about what they do also.  We three hadn’t been back to Andiamo since Kate graduated from grad school and it was about time to put this restaurant into a more deserved memory status.  Suffice to say we accomplished that this time around with good food, good wine and very good very supportive conversation.  I adore these women and don’t think I can ever do enough for them, that Kyle felt this was exactly what she needed after the week of one thing after another stresses was a little victory we all shared.  I’m pretty sure one of us said amen.

Back to Stowe Lane and we find ourselves all seated comfortably in my fabulous office just barely holding on as exhaustion and the wine begin to set in.  The girls and I figure out a better way to make sleeping in the office work and my little Lina begins to relax a bit.  She isn’t the change warrior her sister, Toto, is so after all the disruption she wasn’t really herself evidenced in the note left by Uncle Pete about her having a bit of the “slows” when he came to walk and feed them.  She’s much better today.

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Next morning over coffee we still couldn’t keep the conversation down; we just so enjoy each other and have so much to say. Kate summed it up perfectly; we had a once in a blue moon day.  But with a long ride ahead two of my favorite people would be on their way.  I am in awe of them, I am rejuvenated by them and I am so grateful to have spent this time with them. I have been humming Willkommen all day and strangely it sounds much like a gramophone in my mind.

Leave your troubles outside.

So life is disappointing, forget it!

In here life is beautiful.

A Friend of the Family

DSC_0317What greater thing is there for human souls than to feel that they are joined for life – to be with each other in silent unspeakable memories. – George Eliot

One of the legacy links that I talk about all the time is to be that person.  And believe me I understand that you can be that person by being some form of “that guy” too, it isn’t always a positive thing.  Urban Dictionary defines family friend:  A person whom your parents know, from that job they had back in the day, whom they’ve never quite been able to shake off. This person will continually reappear at social gatherings involving other family friends, who all seem to just orbit around the periphery of your parents’ lives for years and years, like a fly buzzing around your head that simply won’t die.

So you’ve probably guessed I’m not talking about that family friend.  I’m talking about a family friend like Jeanette.  You’ve heard me talk about her for the last five years and I will continue to talk about her my whole life, she was that person.  So very much the mentor without ever even knowing it, I know we gravitated toward her like the magnet she was, I hope she knew the affection we had for her.

I’ve been trying to take that on myself, become a character and you can define that in whatever way you know me best.  I’ve been just trying to make my way in the world with the intention of living my life the way I want my story told.  I may never know what people think of me, I’ve convinced myself that what people say about me is none of my business.

But there is sometimes a magical moment when you get to find out what “family friend” means to a family.  When you have the distinct honor of being introduced as “our family friend” and the mere mention of those two words brings their arm around your shoulder.  The exhilaration is intoxicating.  And over whelming.

When I love you is said with such ease, when the care taken in choosing your seat was so important, when the way you are treated has been firmly established before you enter the room, when you enter the room and the people are genuinely excited to see you and were just a bit worried that you had gotten lost they exhaled.

These are the true indications that you are indeed a cherished family friend.  I don’t take this lightly, I am honored and will work tirelessly to insure that I will always have a wonderful story with these incredibly valuable people. Dare I say that I might be their Jeanette?

I attended this long overdue, bless that man who came along to become a husband, happily ever after function on my own, something I’m used to doing, but never once did I feel alone.  I had a lively conversation with the young man and his wife to my left, a heartwarming conversation with the beautiful new mother to my right, I danced with the best man and he might just tell the story of how he learned the hustle from me.

I was in awe of the bride and how simply stunning she was, how her brother walked her down the aisle, standing in for their beloved father who is no longer with us, and how her sister courageously walked down the aisle alone as the maid of honor. She, too, was incredibly beautiful. The mother of the bride was beaming and reassured that all would be right with her family. I was unable to be at the church and in some ways I’m relieved as just the vision of these three siblings supporting each other with such love brings a lump to my throat.  My friend would have been incredibly delighted of this evening.

The glory of friendship is not the outstretched hand, not the kindly smile, nor the joy of companionship; it is the spiritual inspiration that comes to one when you discover that someone else believes in you and is willing to trust you with a friendship. – Ralph Waldo Emerson