Care Bear Stare

People are always asking me what they can do to help right now. It seems to be on people’s minds. Occasionally, I’ll get a casserole or some cookies. Well, people are starting to catch on to my aversion to sweets, so I’m not getting as many cookies these days. One of the most beautiful gifts I’ve been given since the new year has been getting to see new people, some from a long time ago in my life and some from very recently, rise to the challenge of helping me step back slowly into the world while continuing to take on my healing. I’ve eaten out, I’ve traveled on buses, looked at fine art, gone dancing. It’s been a while since I’ve partied this much. It feels good. I’m getting better at asking for help, much better. And maintaining my pace and center. In fact, there’s a part of me that’s really secretly enjoying it. Loving it. People’s kindness amazes me, their generosity and support and willingness to walk at my pace with me, without judgment. So in the spirit of this transformation, I wanted to ask something of you.

Yesterday, I started my fourth round of chemo. There was a certain routine-ness about it all: the same visit to the same clinic I’ve been going to every week for six months. The same routine checks of my vital stats and weight. I waited in the same room to talk to my doctor. But Birgitta had some news for me. “We can’t promise you anything 100% just yet,” she smiled, “but we’re fairly certain we want to shift you from six rounds to four rounds.” My heart leapt. I know it’s not that long, and I know it’s chemo I’m familiar with, but goddamn it, it would be nice not to have to do it for six more months. What’s funny is that there was this recognition that took place when she told me the good news. It was as if I wanted to say to her “I know! I’m making it happen.” I’ve started relating to myself in a way I haven’t for the majority of my treatment, as though I am fundamentally in the driver’s seat. I have learned how to sit with this foreign vessel in my body, I have negotiated with it and submitted to it, but I am starting to realize more and more that my mind and body and spirit have a strength and resiliency that is close to unstoppable. It’s pretty sweet.

So here’s the request, as heart-felt as I can make it. I’d like to ask you, sometime during the next month, to set aside ten minutes, find someplace peaceful, and focus all your energy into believing that I am healed. I understand you each have different ways of focusing your energy. Call it a prayer, meditation, perfect powder, perfect wave. I don’t need to know. In fact, I’d rather not know. Those moments are pretty personal, I understand. Ten minutes, I am healed. Here’s one for you overachievers. We are healed.

On March 6th I meet with my doctors again. If we’re going to change protocol, that will be the time to discuss it. Believe, interact with it like it’s already true. (Because it is.) Here’s the catch. No fear, please. I kind of just sort of need your full belief. I don’t need to know about it. But you have my gratitude, deepest and most sincere.