aufhebung

thoughts personal, public and everything in between

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

getting down to business

I returned to Pasadena late last night, so today marks the official beginning of my "living with cancer" experience. I kicked it off rather stupidly. Given a brief opportunity between the fast that ended after this morning's PET-scan and the one that began at noon in anticipation of tomorrow's colonoscopy, stuffing myself with all the eggs and pancakes I could force down my asophagus seemed like a good idea. I didn't know that at 3:00 I would be expected to guzzle an entire gallon of an awful concoction named--not without a bit of giggling, I'm sure--"Go-Lytely," whose function I won't describe, other than to say that I am composing today's journal entry roughly four minutes at a time. The battle against which you steel yourself in advance is seldom the one you actually have to fight.

What a gift to have been able to prepare myself with a week in Seattle and Lynden! The depth and breadth of friendships centered around Bethany Community Church--the ways these relationships interlock, the sacrifices we would make for one another, and the utter security of belonging to such a community--became much clearer to us in 2003, after we had moved away, than at any time during the seven years when we were right there in the middle of it. Our times with friends over the last week reminded us that we are still very much a part of this circle, however many miles may separate us.

Sunday, I explained my situation to the congregation at Bethany's morning services, and several members came forward to pray over me. I shared a few specific requests, which I think bear repeating:

For time and physical strength to do whatever work lies ahead of me. I'm quite committed to completing my dissertation, continuing in teaching responsibilities, and taking advantage of ministry opportunities as they arise. I feel relatively optimistic concerning stamina, motor skills and bodily capability over the next couple of years. I ask that God may grant me whatever I need to complete my tasks well.

For mental and emotional centeredness. The worst part of my previous experience with chemotherapy was the effect of the drugs on my mind and moods. Some afternoons, I felt utterly immobilized by a despondency, horror and repugnance toward everything around me that went beyond any rational response to my having cancer. After nineteen years, I still can't adequately describe the experience, but I'm convinced it was at least partly a chemical reaction to the medications I was receiving. I understand that chemotherapy has changed radically over the years, and I know, too, that I was receiving an unusually powerful dosage back in 1987-88, so I don't expect to experience quite the same thing this time around. But if my time is limited, I want to spend as little of it as possible lost inside myself.

For Karla. She's facing an entirely different battle than mine. I've been amazed at the personal resources that she has demonstrated over the last couple of weeks. I pray that God would daily renew her spirit and body, that he would give her joy to match her pain, and that he would continue to draw us together in this experience and to fill our home with laughter.

For wisdom and clarity as we think about our future. For the time being, our place seems to be here in Pasadena. I'm finishing school, Karla's a coach for Team in Training, the medical services I need are right here. But a year from now, who knows what path we'll take? If teaching opportunities arise in other parts of the country, we should probably look at them, but we will also have to examine carefully the advisability of moving far away from our current networks of support at such a critical time. We ask for wisdom and clarity as we seek to integrate responsible hope for the future with a realistic assessment of our limitations and needs.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

Scott,
Thank you for the specific requests, which I can certainly relate to. The "chemo brain" is a fairly recent memory for me, and I will pray especially that your brain might be bathed in lucidity and serenity during these days. You have important work to do, and I will also pray that you have more than enough time to finish it and finish well. As I write this, part of me is thinking -- he will have all the time in the world! I'm counting on us working together to revise ET501 as well, and co-author a book on something deep and profound -- you have much to do!

Murray and I have been praying especially for Karla. Murray has a particular burden on his heart for the spouses of those with cancer. He reflects upon his own experience of loneliness, isolation, powerlessness, etc. It is a different journey for those who stand by.

And I pray that in the midst of the uncertainty, discomfort, endless medical machinations, you both will know a joy that permeates the very air you breathe, and be aware daily of the incredible gift that is life.

With much solidarity and prayer,
Deb

30/11/06 10:18 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Scott, thanks for this. For your blog - for your thoughts, words, vulnerability, and most of all for sharing a part of your poetic soul. I miss you a lot (even though we are on the same coast, in the same time zone, it's not quite like having you in the next room) and while reading your blog actually makes me miss you more, it reminds me of how much I love you. I will be praying for you tomorrow as you start your chemo. Especially for the internal part...that you would still feel like yourself. Your "self" is so freakin beautiful!

30/11/06 11:40 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thanks for allowing so many of us the opportunity to hear your heart through your blog and for making the trip to Seattle. Time with the two of you is always time well-spent. Funny how you don't realize how much someone means to you until they come back to visit and you're reminded of the impact they have upon your life. It's tough to find a pastor when you're married to one. Thanks for being mine through some very difficult days. I love you both. Hug each other for me.
PS-wasn't it a lovely day for a marathon? Be glad you walked with your mom instead of your other crazy friends! -d2

30/11/06 1:14 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

My Name does not matter. I know your incredible Mom. How can I tell you how many times I have turned to her for advice and solace when being overcome with feelings of powerlessness and anger stemming from past sorrows? I understand the concept of taking anger and making it an ally. I told her that I would borrow an idea from a young man I saw on TV who advocates visulaizing whatever is diseased in our bodies and seeing it as a "RAGING BONFIRE". Many times I am visualizing your condition and if you ever feel slightly warm, I am thinking about you. I have quite a list, actually.
Another dear friend is "addressing" Parkinson's.
So you see, my anger is now so busy visualizing for you and others, that I don't have time to grovel in my own woes.
The other part of the visualization is to let the fire rage and then invite the condition to leave your body.
I try to use this technicue for myself, but I think it probably works a lot better when I do it for others.
Anytime you're having a "hot flash" ,know that your mother's grateful friend is praying for her beloved son.

20/12/06 11:55 AM  

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