Waves of Pleasure

There’s a scene from a movie that I’ve loved for too long, alas, in secret. It’s from the musical “Annie,” perhaps the reason my love remains a secret. Annie’s being shown around Daddy Warbucks’ pimped crib when suddenly the staff, not knowing a better way to clarify daily household tasks, bursts into song and dance, showering Annie with endless luxury as she bats her eyes, sighing, “I think I’m gonna like it here.” C’mon, who doesn’t like to indulge? Who doesn’t quietly purr at the taste of warm tollhouse cookies? I always have, but then usually remind myself afterward to add an extra ab crunch to my workout the next morning. My pleasure has only been acceptable when it has been accompanied by a decent amount of guilt. I’ve always resisted indulgence. Everything in moderation, right?

And then cancer. And that rule went right out the window when I woke up at 6:30am desperate for a burrito, fettuccini alfredo, French fries, two chocolate shakes and three snickers bars. It’s called survival, the body balancing one extreme force moving through it with another extreme force, trans fat. I spent my first year of chemo approaching this “over” indulgence with the enthusiasm of an amoeba. “I guess I’ll let myself take a third nap today” or “I suppose a massage wouldn’t kill me in the middle of chemo.”

But in Hawaii, indulgence is a finely crafted art. Excess is noticeable. It walks around with a sunburnt face the color of a lobster, drunkenly vomiting its six maitais. But those who have refined the experience know how to surf pleasure’s blissful waves impeccably. So as my Hawaiian ohana has stepped forward with their healing offerings, each has brought a wave more pleasurable than the last. A bowl of fresh fruit left on my table, perfectly shaped by an artist’s eye. A spontaneous haircut—from a celeb stylist—that launches a discourse on cosmic attraction. Laundry cleaned. Coconuts hacked. Body rubbed. Each gesture nearly belts “we know you’re gonna like it here!” I could snub the generosity, true. In a parallel life where I hadn’t learned to cling so desperately to even small pleasures to survive, I would. But right now, allowing myself to continuously connect to the world’s unending supply of generosity—without guilt or shame—is not only important, it is essential to healing. So I suppose that means I have something to tell you. I like Annie. A lot.

OK. I feel better.

How We Roll

Operation Chemo is really beginning to take off, leaving a trail of (if you can believe this) mournful Kalani folk wishing they could come along to Honolulu for the celebration. And what a celebration it’s become. But what else did you expect? This sh*t’s too much fun not to share with everybody, right? Vincenzo came back along as my official chemo chauffer, along with another Kalani friend Sara, a whole foods health specialist. Those of you who remember my adventures into all things raw late last year can appreciate what a heaven-send someone with her expertise, practical sensibility and tongue-in-cheek humor about dieting is for me. Sara came along for moral support, but also to get a better sense of how I’m nutritionally balancing out the side effects of chemo. Back home at Kalani, she’s been helping me create menus and increase natural supplements my body may be lacking right now. Having the pair along, representing my growing Hawaiian support system, made the experience a thousand times easier. Vincenzo works in Europe as a high-end tour guide, so he took special pleasure this time around in arranging everything from our chemo accommodations at a beautiful boutique hotel in Waikiki to a few special dinners with choice friends both from this island and our home island. Lenore, the sweetest guest services assistant any hotel could ask for, presented me with a beautiful lei when I arrived (Vincenzo forewarned them, so I ranked at celebrity status by the time I showed up) and she seemed shocked to see me, tan, strong and with a full head of hair. “You don’t look sick!” She exclaimed and, jokingly, began taking back the lei. I responded, “it’s the new face of chemo. Little more glamorous.”

Her laugh and hearty embrace afterwards reminded me of Hawaii’s seductive character. There is a different way of interacting with people here than anywhere in the United States—perhaps even the world. Every smile, every sensation of warmth is an invitation to enjoy immense pleasure. It comes almost every day here, every hour: a chance to revel in a glistening rainbow—or three, the momentary breaching of a whale that you’d miss if you blinked, the company of new friends while you enjoy a sunset. Life shouts at you. Why survive death if afterwards you don’t enjoy life?! People who seem most comfortable here understand that life just isn’t worth it if you don’t stop and appreciate the beauty right in front of you. Sure, it’s understandable when that beauty so obviously surrounds us here on all sides. But the real secret to this place is that the more you enjoy the beauty around you, the more you realize that this beauty is a direct correlation to the beauty you are allowing yourself to enjoy within. Party on.