As another winter storm envelops the Midwest I descend to the kitchen well after midnight, unable to fall back asleep. The pattern has become, sadly, not uncommon. I even sigh peacefully, and light a candle in the way our pre-electricity ancestors might have when awakening between first and second sleeps. It helps to substitute this alternate view of sleep as normal, rather than aberrant. At a time when health gurus are emphasizing the importance of a solid eight hours of sleep (which honestly makes me more anxious about sleep) there remains the truth of the ancient two sleeps that went on for centuries, if not millennia.
I won’t argue the pros and cons. I must adapt to reality. This will not be a treatise of complaints, though I will gently set the stage for a philosophy of overcoming adversity by mentioning a few of them.
The seventh decade of my life has begun as the most challenging yet. Though I had an unlikely thyroid cancer in my teens (very successfully treated), cancer visited again just before my sixtieth birthday. Chemotherapy, radiation, difficult oral medication therapy and a bilateral mastectomy are now past. Disabling spinal stenosis continues to be dealt with while recovering from a rough hiatal hernia surgery just four weeks ago. And the latest is that next week a basal cell carcinoma must be removed by Mohs Surgery from my face. Believe me, I’m trying to adopt a warrior mentality to this third cancer, facial scar and all. It feels as though I need to adopt it for life.
As a younger person I was so very active. Anyone who knows me personally, likely does so from softball teams, horseback riding, golf, skiing, hiking, running, farming, scuba-diving…you get the point! As ability after ability disappeared like mist into the past, I railed and grieved and adapted. Truthfully, I’ll probably rail and grieve and adapt for the rest of my life, but I am determined to keep moving forward and not give in. Perhaps that is the benefit of an active, sports-filled life. You keep playing even when you think you are beat. In one of my very favorite movies, Galaxy Quest, the protagonist’s rallying call is, “Never give up–never surrender!” In a quieter, lilting and hopeful quote, Dori in Finding Nemo repeats, “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming; what do we do?–we swim, swim, swim!”
My husband Bruce lives through my philosophy-formation and knows that it is not a smooth process. At times it is quite hard and I’m emotionally and physically laid out flat on my back for a while. It can’t be easy for him. I’ve written about caretaking before. Guilt comes easily to me and I have to fight it in regard to the impact my health and moods have had on his life. All I can say is that he is remarkable and steadfast. His love is strong and limitless. And I am so blessed.
Bruce’s love, and the support from family and friends ultimately come from God. I am thankful. I know very well that many people, if not most of the world, have equal to far-greater struggles. Maladies and tragedies can divide and isolate, but they don’t have to. We really are in this together. We’re connected in a spiritual sense; I envision it sort of like trees and flora are connected by a mycorrhizal network below-ground, unseen. Perhaps more accurately, we exist in a world of quantum entanglement. It is how I like to think of the power of prayer. Our thoughts and intentions hold great power, and potential effects.
Please do me a favor and “send some good vibes” and prayers. While you do, extend them to all who are suffering around the world. Every one of us needs strength and support. I’m grateful for a chance at a seventh decade. One of the cancer diagnoses portends a questionable achievement of that. I choose to take a day at a time, a step at a time, and “just keep swimming!”
Blessings to you!
Suzy Cornflakes 