good news, bad news, rollercoasters...
Apr. 2nd, 2006 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chelidonIt's been quite a couple of days.
I replaced the septic tank (main/settling and pumping tank) concrete covers on Thursday, due to my contractor's heavy equipment breaking both of them during the construction (and thank goodness I have a tractor with which to lift big heavy masses of reinforced concrete), then upon inspection discovered the tank was in immediate need of pumping out prior to masses of people being over here for the Feri weekend, got someone to come over on short notice Friday ($350+, ouch), worked with and talked to the septic tank guy for several hours while he worked, learned more about septic systems and their upkeep and repair than I ever knew before and had a great extended chat, and figured out 30 minutes after he left that he'd been hitting on me. lol. New England is so whacky sometimes, and I can be rather clueless, too. Huh, what? Ohhhh...
And I finished a cover article, got the piece back from edit along with some very positive comments (despite being late with the copy to the editor...sigh, but I had rather a compelling excuse), did some more mud season road repair with the tractor, cleaned all of the nails, screws, shingles and other construction debris out of the front yard, took a load of debris and recyclables to the transfer station, finalized arrangements for the electrician and plasterer to come in Monday and work on the house addition (the last major bits before I can install the floor and move in, w00t), arranged for the delivery of a cord of kiln-dried firewood Monday (the last bought wood this year, perhaps ever!), hooked the composting toilet in the barn back up, cleaned up the winter's mess from the barn and the paddock, walked the land and cleaned deadfall from streams and trails, checked out trees to see how they fared the winter, lay on a warm south-facing rock for hours and read the first half of Ben Law's excellent book on permaculture-based woodland management ("The Woodland Way"), turned over the veggie garden, and took my son and started building the labyrinth way up on the hill above where I'll be building the treehouse this summer, starting with mossy bricks we took with us from the "priestess point" of the labyrinth we had at our Maryland house for 10 years. And I got to chat a bit with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
yezida, far too briefly this time around. And I was appallingly antisocial and hermit-like all weekend with the house full of Feri folk, but honestly, aside from housemates and Thorn and a small handful of people I've taught with or known for years, I didn't feel much like chit-chat with anyone, and pretty much split my weekend between solitary house and land projects and helping support and be with Claudia. lylythe_strega helped out in many ways, including by bringing me lunch when I didn't even feel like socializing enough to quickly wade through the houseful of folks at mealtime. Introvert /hermit mode was definitely in full force...
I spent as much time as I could walking and hanging out with and helping support my partner, who grows stronger daily, but whose energy still comes in fits and starts (and who chafes at my pointing out that it's really okay to feel just a bit tired when you've had a major organ surgically removed not 4 days before ;>) She and I had a talk about our hope to grow old together, and we renewed our long-standing deal to do so ;> She did bibliomancy for me, and opened up to Psalm 26 from Angela Magara's profound and excellent "Earth Psalms" Tomorrow is my turn to pick one for her. Here's tonight's:
Psalm 26
Judge me.
I am unafraid from the ways I have walked.
Examine me, and know my whys.
For Love has adopted me into the family and I am home.
No longer do I rely on vanity as a shield,
Nor do I stand behind lies to protect me.
I have looked into my hands and seen their beauty.
Gratitude is my song.
The house of the living, this shape
that is the land of my inhabitation,
resonates with acceptance and imagination.
No longer will I need pain to feel my life.
Each day is a jewel of knowing, each moment a treasure.
Small ways hold everything.
Presence brings divinity.
I stand here.
Glad to be home.
*sigh* True, oh so true.
This morning I woke up, and looked over at my partner, and realized that not only do I love our lives, and her, more deeply than ever, but I am, for perhaps the fourth or fifth time in our 21 years together, in love with her. The giddiness, the constant thoughts, the racing heart and adrenaline rush, all of it. You can't live in that state, the human body can't take it long-term, in my experience, it lasts from a matter of months to maybe 2 years on the outside, and it's a huge, sometimes disorienting rush when it comes. Maybe the health crisis triggered it, maybe not, but either way, what a gift. It's quite rare enough to fall in love with someone once, but I've had multiples ;> Yum.
Life is legendary, or at its best should and could be -- if you've got only the once to live this one wild and precious life, to step through this particular rare Tale, why not make it an epic? Live boldly and passionately, dream broadly and with vision, risk much, have tremendous unbelievable successes and terrible, dreadful mistakes, and live an engaging, lusty story with enough bizarre plot twists and cliff-hangers to keep the most jaded participant glued to their seat, always wondering how the next chapter goes. Life's always too short to be bored, or boring ;> Seriously, if life's taught me anything, it's that you really owe it to yourself to drain every single last drop from all the cups you are given, bitter or sweet. No regrets. Or at least try not to have any more than absolutely necessary.
The surgeon called this morning -- it's never a great sign when the doctor calls your house on Sunday morning, even less so when he happens to be the head of surgery for an entire regional hospital that does in excess of 15,000 operations per year. C's lab results came in early. The good news is that the cancer is all the papillary variety, which is the most common, most treatable, least aggressive kind. The bad news is cancer in both sides of the thyroid, and in half of the lymph nodes they removed. The next step is I-131 (radioactive iodine) therapy, which, aside from becoming temporarily radioactive and having to isolate oneself for a few days or so, is not nearly as unpleasant as the part about being forced to go totally hypothyroid for a week or so prior to the therapy. Bleah. But it works, and we'll hope it works completely and permanently, no spreading of the cancer, no recurrances. I hold my dear love, and comfort, and give whatever strength I can, ease the pain, rub back and shoulders, neck (carefully!), forehead, hands and feet, encourage, kiss, nuzzle, share our passion and love, and even in those moments of otherwise total honestly, have to hold myself back from showing her the worst of how numbingly terrifying it is to even begin to contemplate losing her.
A week before her surgery, she had to treat a cancer patient, brain cancer, terminal, approx. 6 weeks to live. She was in her mid-40's, with two kids whom Claudia had to talk to at length about their mom's medical condition and prognosis. During the course of discussing it with the kids and the patient, it turns out that this patient 3 years ago had the exact same form of cancer my partner has now, and it metastitized to her brain. Statistically very unlikely, but, of course, statistics apply to groups of people, not individuals.
That same week, our son was taking his last afternon ski school lesson at our small neighborhood ski area, and the kid going up the lift with him on his last run was about a year older, they got talking about things, and the other kid said, "oh, my mom had cancer when I was five. She died." Needless to say, there was a long heartfelt talk with our son that night. For whatever reason (and this is me shaking my fist at the gods), none of us get to have any illusions, be comforted by platitudes, or do anything but face this all head-on, straight-up. Fuck.
And, through it all, life is still so very good, and each day with loved ones, surrounded by incredible beauty, putting the strength of heart and head and hands into creating a world in which I want to live and share with dear friends and loves and give to the generations which follow, is a rare gift, utterly beyond price.
I stand here.
Glad to be home.
I replaced the septic tank (main/settling and pumping tank) concrete covers on Thursday, due to my contractor's heavy equipment breaking both of them during the construction (and thank goodness I have a tractor with which to lift big heavy masses of reinforced concrete), then upon inspection discovered the tank was in immediate need of pumping out prior to masses of people being over here for the Feri weekend, got someone to come over on short notice Friday ($350+, ouch), worked with and talked to the septic tank guy for several hours while he worked, learned more about septic systems and their upkeep and repair than I ever knew before and had a great extended chat, and figured out 30 minutes after he left that he'd been hitting on me. lol. New England is so whacky sometimes, and I can be rather clueless, too. Huh, what? Ohhhh...
And I finished a cover article, got the piece back from edit along with some very positive comments (despite being late with the copy to the editor...sigh, but I had rather a compelling excuse), did some more mud season road repair with the tractor, cleaned all of the nails, screws, shingles and other construction debris out of the front yard, took a load of debris and recyclables to the transfer station, finalized arrangements for the electrician and plasterer to come in Monday and work on the house addition (the last major bits before I can install the floor and move in, w00t), arranged for the delivery of a cord of kiln-dried firewood Monday (the last bought wood this year, perhaps ever!), hooked the composting toilet in the barn back up, cleaned up the winter's mess from the barn and the paddock, walked the land and cleaned deadfall from streams and trails, checked out trees to see how they fared the winter, lay on a warm south-facing rock for hours and read the first half of Ben Law's excellent book on permaculture-based woodland management ("The Woodland Way"), turned over the veggie garden, and took my son and started building the labyrinth way up on the hill above where I'll be building the treehouse this summer, starting with mossy bricks we took with us from the "priestess point" of the labyrinth we had at our Maryland house for 10 years. And I got to chat a bit with
yezida, far too briefly this time around. And I was appallingly antisocial and hermit-like all weekend with the house full of Feri folk, but honestly, aside from housemates and Thorn and a small handful of people I've taught with or known for years, I didn't feel much like chit-chat with anyone, and pretty much split my weekend between solitary house and land projects and helping support and be with Claudia. lylythe_strega helped out in many ways, including by bringing me lunch when I didn't even feel like socializing enough to quickly wade through the houseful of folks at mealtime. Introvert /hermit mode was definitely in full force...I spent as much time as I could walking and hanging out with and helping support my partner, who grows stronger daily, but whose energy still comes in fits and starts (and who chafes at my pointing out that it's really okay to feel just a bit tired when you've had a major organ surgically removed not 4 days before ;>) She and I had a talk about our hope to grow old together, and we renewed our long-standing deal to do so ;> She did bibliomancy for me, and opened up to Psalm 26 from Angela Magara's profound and excellent "Earth Psalms" Tomorrow is my turn to pick one for her. Here's tonight's:
Psalm 26
Judge me.
I am unafraid from the ways I have walked.
Examine me, and know my whys.
For Love has adopted me into the family and I am home.
No longer do I rely on vanity as a shield,
Nor do I stand behind lies to protect me.
I have looked into my hands and seen their beauty.
Gratitude is my song.
The house of the living, this shape
that is the land of my inhabitation,
resonates with acceptance and imagination.
No longer will I need pain to feel my life.
Each day is a jewel of knowing, each moment a treasure.
Small ways hold everything.
Presence brings divinity.
I stand here.
Glad to be home.
*sigh* True, oh so true.
This morning I woke up, and looked over at my partner, and realized that not only do I love our lives, and her, more deeply than ever, but I am, for perhaps the fourth or fifth time in our 21 years together, in love with her. The giddiness, the constant thoughts, the racing heart and adrenaline rush, all of it. You can't live in that state, the human body can't take it long-term, in my experience, it lasts from a matter of months to maybe 2 years on the outside, and it's a huge, sometimes disorienting rush when it comes. Maybe the health crisis triggered it, maybe not, but either way, what a gift. It's quite rare enough to fall in love with someone once, but I've had multiples ;> Yum.
Life is legendary, or at its best should and could be -- if you've got only the once to live this one wild and precious life, to step through this particular rare Tale, why not make it an epic? Live boldly and passionately, dream broadly and with vision, risk much, have tremendous unbelievable successes and terrible, dreadful mistakes, and live an engaging, lusty story with enough bizarre plot twists and cliff-hangers to keep the most jaded participant glued to their seat, always wondering how the next chapter goes. Life's always too short to be bored, or boring ;> Seriously, if life's taught me anything, it's that you really owe it to yourself to drain every single last drop from all the cups you are given, bitter or sweet. No regrets. Or at least try not to have any more than absolutely necessary.
The surgeon called this morning -- it's never a great sign when the doctor calls your house on Sunday morning, even less so when he happens to be the head of surgery for an entire regional hospital that does in excess of 15,000 operations per year. C's lab results came in early. The good news is that the cancer is all the papillary variety, which is the most common, most treatable, least aggressive kind. The bad news is cancer in both sides of the thyroid, and in half of the lymph nodes they removed. The next step is I-131 (radioactive iodine) therapy, which, aside from becoming temporarily radioactive and having to isolate oneself for a few days or so, is not nearly as unpleasant as the part about being forced to go totally hypothyroid for a week or so prior to the therapy. Bleah. But it works, and we'll hope it works completely and permanently, no spreading of the cancer, no recurrances. I hold my dear love, and comfort, and give whatever strength I can, ease the pain, rub back and shoulders, neck (carefully!), forehead, hands and feet, encourage, kiss, nuzzle, share our passion and love, and even in those moments of otherwise total honestly, have to hold myself back from showing her the worst of how numbingly terrifying it is to even begin to contemplate losing her.
A week before her surgery, she had to treat a cancer patient, brain cancer, terminal, approx. 6 weeks to live. She was in her mid-40's, with two kids whom Claudia had to talk to at length about their mom's medical condition and prognosis. During the course of discussing it with the kids and the patient, it turns out that this patient 3 years ago had the exact same form of cancer my partner has now, and it metastitized to her brain. Statistically very unlikely, but, of course, statistics apply to groups of people, not individuals.
That same week, our son was taking his last afternon ski school lesson at our small neighborhood ski area, and the kid going up the lift with him on his last run was about a year older, they got talking about things, and the other kid said, "oh, my mom had cancer when I was five. She died." Needless to say, there was a long heartfelt talk with our son that night. For whatever reason (and this is me shaking my fist at the gods), none of us get to have any illusions, be comforted by platitudes, or do anything but face this all head-on, straight-up. Fuck.
And, through it all, life is still so very good, and each day with loved ones, surrounded by incredible beauty, putting the strength of heart and head and hands into creating a world in which I want to live and share with dear friends and loves and give to the generations which follow, is a rare gift, utterly beyond price.
I stand here.
Glad to be home.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 07:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 08:43 pm (UTC)Did we get another shipment of wood today? Remind me when I get home, and I'll drag some in.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 10:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 03:35 am (UTC)You're right - it is so easy to just coast through life, and not take notice of the power, joy and beauty it brings. We owe it to ourselves and each other to stop and listen and take part. Life doesn't offer dress rehearsals.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 07:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 04:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 11:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 12:27 pm (UTC)love you,
K
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 12:55 pm (UTC)To me it is clearly understandable why you would be in an antisocial mood. You have had to take in more information and change than is reasonable for any one person or family.
I'm glad you were able to garner some time to yourself.
Please take care,
Swan
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 04:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 02:02 pm (UTC)Sending love to you and Claudia and Forrest and wishing you all good healing. Please take good care of yourselves and know that I'm thinking of you.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 02:50 pm (UTC)We really do expect to beat this thing. And we're definitely not dwelling on the negative. It's more like what we keep getting forced to look at without flinching is the truth that all possibilities are on the table. That's always true, of course, for each of us, every moment of every day, but it seems that we're not being allowed to pretend it's not so, even for a moment. We hope, passionately, even desperately, but we're not allowed to hide behind hope. Or behind faith, statistics, or anything else. Whee.
I thought I knew gratitude before. Not even close.
And thank you for your kind wishes and thoughts, they do help, more than you might know.
no subject
Date: 2006-04-03 07:14 pm (UTC)My love to my Loves...and I'll be glad to be home tonight! :>
no subject
Date: 2006-04-04 04:26 pm (UTC)