August 16th: Succumbed...

Some sort of bug has been working away at giving my innards a good washing out.  The only blessing so far is that nothing has come or is coming out my ears or mouth.  If I had fluids coming out of every single one of the orifices of my body, I'm not sure I could stand it.  

And then, there's the indecision:  Do I eat now?  Or wait and see?  should I drink More?  Must stay hydrated, must stay hydrated, must stay hydrated.  However, the 32 ounces of

Pedialyte went through my system faster than anything else I'd put down it.  One really sleepless night: up every hour beginning at 2 and ending at around 7; the next night I made it through until 4, and then 5.  Last night, I made it through until 6, and then laid back down until 8.  It does seem to be getting better.  Today, only my tears and the occasional nose-blow have been leaking, with my gut seeming to vacillate between moving profusely and not moving at all.  And then there's the question: is this related to the lymphoma?  Maybe one of the tumors has grown and now it's obstructing something - and only letting water and small particles through?  Or what about the Alleve I was taking for my sprained anterior tibialis injury?  Is it a side affect of that?    

Now, this poor, tired, worn out body is limping, and on red alert to run to the bathroom if needed, craving some food, and hesitant to put anything into itself for fear of what will happen.  So I drink water with frankincense (it's supposed to be a good essential oil for cancer), and I cross my fingers and hope for the best.  That's all we can do sometimes, yes?  Hope for the best?

In a better moment, I concentrate and meditate and hope that everything that is coming out of my body holds the hate and fear that is in Missouri.  I use H'o'oponopono: I am sorry.  Please forgive me.  I love you (see July 23rd post).  Thank you for showing me this…that lasts for a couple minutes, and sometimes a little longer.  Then I'm back to 

simply letting my body do what it needs to do, and me rolling my eyes at myself as I try to turn something that is physically revolting and smelly into a "spiritual occurrence."  Really, Deborah?  Is the cancer in your brain, too?  Wait…don't EVEN GO there!

And I did not not stop my life.  Couldn't if I wanted to.  Saw some excellent friends and walked their land.  They didn't care if I was spilling the interior of my guts.  They didn't

blink an eye at the laundry I needed to wash out and hang on their shower railing.  Walking through their woods with them was glorious.  I took myself out to a really good restaurant for supper.  I bravely ate something that spoke to me, and ate the rest of it for lunch today.  So far, so good.  I stuffed toilet paper into all of the places that were most likely to need it, and attended a Village Harmony choral concert,

where teenagers from across the country were sharing the music they had learned during a week where they sang all day, and then cooked, ate, and kept house a little in between the singing.  It was amazing.  My concert companion said, "At one point, I didn't 

know if it was me or the bench I was sitting on that was vibrating."  During that same piece, the music reached in and pulled at me so strongly that I literally had to put my hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.  Instead, I sat there and sobbed with my hand over my mouth.  Even as I describe it, I am once again feeling those feelings.  Pure, utter, glorious, joy.  I'm not sure that the music has released me yet.  The power of music will always hold me in its grip.

Today, I've been moving very slowly…took my daughter shopping for needed clothing; pulled my things to be unpacked into my room so that they would not be obvious to her guests that have come over for a fire and S'mores and company.  And I'm aware that I need to make something for tomorrow's farewell potluck for one of my Quaker friends - and there's no time to do that tomorrow morning.  It must be done tonight.  Not sure what it will be.  Some sort of kale-pasta-garlic creation is dropping into my mind.  And I'm

aware that I am getting very close to beginning a list.  Stop.   Raise your hands, and step away---from the list.   



And - I am dreaming of having a live-in cook.  Someone who would plan and cook at least 5 dinners a week, with some left overs to have for lunch.  I wonder if someone would consider living in my house for free, and cooking 5 dinners a 

night.  I'd buy the food.  They could eat the dinners, too.  They'd only need to get their own food for breakfast and lunches and weekends.  Would that be a good deal?  It would sooooo make my life easier.  Well.  The intention has been stated.  

And I'm feeling some sort of satisfying evil about choosing the "Trebuchet" font.  There is something about using a font that has the same name as a medieval weapon that appeals to me.  Take that, Church Lady.  



I am feeling as if I should be writing some sort of mind-blowing, wise, well-thought-out something or other, but since I am letting go of "should's," what I've written is what I get.  I've checked in with myself, and 

….even when it's not.

Right now, though, we can go with the "well thing."

Images

bug:  http://nolanwebdev.com/nwdimages/bug.jpg

indecision: http://cdn-6.livelighter.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/i-dont-know.jpg
fingers crossed:  http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WO0qcp2Ts6E/U71K7HPo7fI/AAAAAAAAC1I/NYf4Fxpu-AI/s1600/fingers-crossed1.png
church lady: http://lavandearomatherapy.files.wordpress.com/2013/11/church-lady.jpg
love my friends: http://www.printedclothing.com/shack/contents/media/l_pc2021%20i%20love%20my%20friends.jpg
toilet paper: http://static2.consumerreportscdn.org/content/dam/cro/products/toilet_paper/buying_lg_toilet_paper.jpg
music head: http://boosterland.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Small.jpg
no list: http://www.timedebtevent.com/images/no_more_lists.jpg
cook: http://cdn.theatlantic.com/static/mt/assets/hua_hsu/gordon_blais_post.jpg
trebuchet: http://transformerstrebuchet.pbworks.com/f/1268691491/20080907155223!Trebuchet_Scheme.png
all is well: http://rlv.zcache.co.uk/all_is_well_quote_postcards-re73ec6cb3fe2492d8f0f438f9b941cac_vgbaq_8byvr_324.jpg