July 14th: OK! I'm Listening! Geez!

Well.  Hmmm.  Blog #1.  What to say.  Starting out with "I have cancer" seems a little melodramatic - especially coming from the perception that I've had of myself and my health thus far in my life.  I'm the oldest of six - and I have the least gray hair of all of us.  Although I'm probably not as fit as my brother with the "mini-gym" in his spare bedroom, I have been known to portage a 16 foot canoe by myself over rough terrain {ok, I had a little bit of help getting it onto my shoulders, but after it was there, I carried it}.  A couple of years ago, I spent four weeks camping - didn't sleep indoors once. A part of that trip was a week in the wilderness with a group of "Wild Canadian Women" who were old enough to be my mom, and then a week of backpacking with a friend and her daughter on one of the roughest trails I've ever been on.  It kicked our asses, but I walked over my age in miles that week.  Although I will be 59 in just ten more days, you can get the "picture" that I'm no sloucher.  So, when I feel the words "I have cancer" about ready to come out of my mouth - or, in this case, my keyboard - I also think of one of my favorite comediennes, Tig Nataro: No Moleste.  Nope.  Not tonight.  Try a couple doors down. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwqPeVkiDR4)  All to no avail, however.

Sitting in a doctor's office, getting the news, was an instant game changer.  The static went away.  Time began to take on a new meaning, as in "there's not enough of it to do what I want, and too much of it spent doing things that I don't want."  I was at a metaphorical railroad crossing: Stop. Look. Listen. 

I don't know how you feel about God, but I know that I've had a personal relationship with the Divine since I was little.  It was very clear to me that God didn't live in the church building.  I'm not a big fan of any religion, organized or otherwise.  I was somewhat of a "church whore" (thanks to Lee Greenler's Grandmother for this term) for many years after I left my Catholic-rooted home, hopping churches to be with the congregation and/or pastor that fit most easily with this "connection to God" that I felt.  Presently I most align with the Society of Friends.  If there were a Quaker monthly meeting in my town, I would apply for membership.  All of that is really beside the point, except for this: Quakers believe that there is that of God in everyone, and that each of us can have a very up-close-and-personal relationship with the Divine.  In addition, they believe that if we sit in silence, and wait, God will "lead" us, and Spirit's voice can speak through us.  HOW GREAT IS THAT!?!?!?!   I've been hearing God's voice my whole life, so you can imagine how at home I felt among a group of people who didn't think I was crazy, because God talked to them, too.  So, referring back to the previous paragraph for a moment, a metaphorical Quaker Crossing sign might read "Stop.  Wait.  Listen."

So now - with that little piece of context, you may understand me better when I say this:  God is taking a metaphorical 2 x 4 with the word "lymphoma" on its side, and whacking me upside of the head with it.  I didn't hear the more polite "Yooooooo-hoooooooo….. Deeeboraaaaaaaaahhhhhh…."  Dang.  Thanks, Dad, for the "hard-head" gene - a good thing to have in many cases, but not so good in this one.  But I think I'm getting it now.