I’m afraid. Not that it’s a good sign for anyone but ascites isn’t a good sign for me – it’s my internal alarm system letting me know my cancer is badly misbehaving. My stress load had gone up and skyrocketed for reasons I don’t yet fully understand. My physical “self” sent a flair up to alert me that I had to make some dramatic changes. I knew. But what‘s holding me back and why had I allowed it to continue for so long? I’m not sure I need to define what the “it” is, but it is definitely the 11th hour and I could feel it. Change or die.
On and off I’d been in the hospital since thanksgiving 2018. Roughly the same time as last year once I’d returned from the Commonweal Cancer Help Program. Looking back in that period with the clarity of hindsight, my need to feel loved and approved of by my partner upon returning from the CHP, and by wanting to transform him and his depression, then going into year three. At Commonweal, in the loving-care of people who needed no invitations to a hug, I’d neglected myself again. How the hell did I do that this time and at what level of self exploration did I need to sink into to find the answer to that mystery is as unknown as a good Agatha Christie Poirot mystery.
I suppose to show him somehow he could do it too, he could find clarity within an almost unbearable situation and even find answers to fundamental human questions plaguing him all his life. I’m a firebrand of calmness. Oxymoronic yet I’m so excited to share everything. My excitement caused him to draw further away for the last time. I’d never really see him again after that. Perhaps he’d lost me and not vice versa. But we could have gone together to the program, and I know if he’d tried we’d be a vastly different couple than we are. But here I find myself: sick, alone, afraid, and as all cancer patients eventually find themselves unable to financially support myself.
In all I’d learned I’d still not fully understood that unless I helped myself to health, I’d not live to see my own gifts fully realized. (Protected gifts by the light around me and had been given as a mandate that I did not carry forward as I was gently blessed and nudged towards about three years ago – more in a later chapter on this story.)
I asked him a serious question around 2:00 am December 15th one day out of Stanford hospital and a first round of Taxol:
Are you in this with me?
I mean changes have to be made – I must or my life hangs in the balance.
It always does (snidely) just nock it off please.
Craig I’m serious this is serious.
No it’s not “whatever,” it’s my life.
Oh, just shut up.
No I won’t shut up and you mustn’t speak to me that way.
I won’t speak to you then.
That’s not what I meant and you know it.
As you wish.
As you wish.
I wish you were in this with me it could help you, too.
Just go to sleep.
The word whatever should be struck from every dictionary of human language as it evokes apathy and strips bare the spirits of its joy or at the least enjoyment. I’m not talking, “which sushi restaurant?” “Oh, whatever is on your way home honey.” That’s a perfectly acceptable answer. I hope my need to explain myself to the level of granularity of a tight shot in a David Lynch movie as my own self esteem begins to heal as so often his characters do not. There’s no great redemption in over explication, which simply takes a conversation and mangles a cogent discussion creating an active diversion and leaving one scratching their head over how they wound up in an unrecognizable blathering. Of course it’s easy then to say “whatever.”
Something had just snapped in me and I know if I throw myself into the world something will happen. I will die here in every possible way, but out there I can be saved. I believe that now more than ever. After I woke up yet again to an empty bed, even I can see the required ingredients to form the semblance of a relationship are probably unavailable.
It’s myself – not him – who’s keeping me in this carcinogenic hell where I live on Carrington circle (circle! The irony had escaped me until that moment). I can make a choice to carry on with optimizing my mind, body, and spirit for LIVING or I will die running around a circle of things that never change.
I began reading “Anti-Cancer.” Just having read a paragraph regarding ascites in mice and the case of a Mighty Mouse had pulled my brain out of a fog. It scared me to the point of nausea. I’m going to have to find love, patience, nutrition, a living situation, and give for the sake of my life. The gift was mine to throw away or get busy saving.
Now this is clear as anything had been before. It was time to reload my arsenal and wake up.