Digesting

One of my favorite books is The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupéry, which, in 11th grade French class, we read as Le Petit Prince.

I love that it explores childhood wonder and creativity and looks for sense in a grown-up world.

The story begins with a child's art story:

"Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal....[with a drawing].

"In the book it said: 'Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion.'

"I pondered deeply, then, over the adventures of the jungle. And after some work with a colored pencil I succeeded in making my first drawing. My Drawing Number One. [with a drawing]

"I showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups, and asked them whether the drawing frightened them.

"But they answered: 'Frighten? Why should any one be frightened by a hat?'

"My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. But since the grown-ups were not able to understand it, I made another drawing: I drew the inside of a boa constrictor, so that the grown-ups could see it clearly....."

(Check out this site The Little Prince for the drawings and more of the story.)


I think I have been digesting.

But what do I want to write/publish in a blog with an elephant still in my throat?

I appreciate your kind comments added to this blog site. I also sometimes wonder what balance of tone to use, and if I need to wait until my insides sound "better". I may be a bit like the boa constrictor, with things still in process. The nature of a blog is that it is not a work of art with everything settled perfectly in place. I am in process, and do not necessarily always look "ok". If I am anxious one day or not feeling well sometime, I do not want anyone else to worry. Oh well.

Time for a bit of catching up.

Wednesday
Wednesday was Chemo # 2 Day. Thank you for prayers. It was a good day. I get to sit in a room, with a variety of drugs flowing into my arm to make me better. And the anti-nausea drugs still appear mostly to be working. I have much to be thankful for in that experience.

Thursday
Thursday night, a package arrived from a long-time friend from school-days, Janey, who is a nurse in Grand Rapids. It included fun green socks for my St. Patrick's Day (yes, I wore them) and some note papers and a book: Prayers and Promises: when facing a life-threatening illness by Ed Dobson, along with a three-page hand-written letter.

I was not sure I wanted to read about "life-threatening illness". But the letter said that Janey's husband, who had a kidney transplant 2 1/2 years ago had found it encouraging, and that it had been written by a now-retired pastor of a large church in Grand Rapids (which I have visited) who now has ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease). Another connection (that Janey did not know) is that Rev. Dobson's daughter and my daughter were both in the Grand Rapids Youth Sympathy their senior year of high school, and further, both played in the same woodwind quartet together that year. They even performed together at Carrie's graduation open house in our home.

So I opened the book, and started reading. It is set up as 30 days of morning and evening reflections. The first day includes, "I'm not afraid of being dead. I'm afraid of getting dead." Hmm... Sounds honest. And later... "You are indispensable until your life on earth is done."

As I write, I remember another book that I read many years ago, To Live Until We Say Good-bye by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and Mal Warshaw, that made the point that the consciousness of death can help make the moments of anyone's life more purposeful and in perspective.

Friday
Friday was more a day of high anxiety for me. A visit to the doctor. I had not had to experience the famous multi-hour waits before, as new-patient and then as a post-op patient. But that kicked in this week. I was anxious, because it was my first meeting with him since learning the results of the cytology report (that cancer cells were found outside of the original site). I was not totally surprised, and in fact, he had already started me on the chemo regimen for that result. But, of course, anyone's hope would be that cancer would be confined to the site of origin. Controlled. Then I had looked online for more information, and that made me more stressed. But as my cousin and a friend live out, we are not statistics; we are people.

Perhaps I have never appreciated my husband more than in that waiting time.

Besides my Neulasta shot (white blood cell booster) and my doctor's exam, I had a list of questions. Some version of the classic cancer question came up, "How long do I have?" And you know what? The answer was the same as it has always been: no one knows.

There is a certain comfort in that.

I pushed a bit further (with what I hoped would be a simpler question): How about this summer? Yes, barring any big thing, I should plan on being here this summer. Ok. Then let's move along...

I felt much lighter after seeing him. More peace.

So why am I just now writing on Tuesday? (I did start on Monday.)

I may go between wanting to just flow with the plan and allow drugs to do their work, and wondering what else I should be doing, and getting distracted by side-effects... One that I have not balanced out is that it seems like all the medicines cause constipation. There is medicine for that. I add a varying amount of prune juice to that (and sometimes Milk of Magnesia)... and I never realized how complicated that all gets...

Anyway, I am feeling better today, a little more balanced.

Oh, and a bit of fun. I have still been looking for movies that would actually make me laugh. I looked up "comedy films" in the online library card catalog, and found "Frank Capra's You Can't Take It With You" about a family of "free-spirits" and their one "stable" family member who falls in love with the rich Jimmy Stewart character. It actually did make me laugh.

From the Dobson book:
"Never will I leave you;
never will I forsake you."

So we say with confidence,
"The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid.
What can man do to me?"
Hebrews 13:5-6