Here's how it happens

Running across the playground the other day, has turned out to be really important. I keep thinking about it, over and over. Partially because my legs still hurt, but also because it felt really good, strong, fast (for such a slow jog). My hubby suggested I should keep going: tomorrow run to that tree, then the next day run to that one. "Eventually you'll run a marathon," he said............ heavy pause in my chest followed by sudden elation................. I could run a marathon. I could do that. Wouldn't that be crazy. Could I do that? Yeah, I could do that... mentally anyway. Huh.... could I do it in one year? Well... let's say two? Yeah, let's "try" I say to myself, knowing full well I'm going to give it my all...

Running log:

1. (3/29/07) 25 yds, slow jog across the playground
   
2. (3/31/07) 50 yds, to the tree, slow trot, laughing out loud like a lunatic, almost ran back as well, but immediately thought the better of it when I stopped to turn around (legs were cramping and so were my cheeks). Hey doubled my distance already!
   

My first run

I began to slow, drift, then decided to just keep going...

bounce, bounce, bounce, foot, foot, foot...

This had started as an urgent "rescue" of my daughter from a large bush at the edge of the playground (yesterday afternoon). But I could see her now, and she was fine.

bounce, bounce, bounce, I just kept going,

slow, like a morning jogger out for a little warm-up...

bounce, bounce, bounce...

not out of breath, dizzy, or crying,

just bouncing along, grinning like a fool.

bounce, bounce, bounce...

We're talking 25 yds, possibly 30, to the bush, yet my legs screamed like the final mile of the marathon still laid ahead, feet moved on memory alone...

bounce, bounce, bounce, grin, grin, grin...

Immediately afterwards my entire lower half filled with jelly, then burned. 25 yards, slow bouncy jog, and I'm toast. Wow.

.... and this is good... couldn't have done that on meds! Whoo Hooo! Touch Down Baby!!!! Yeah! Momma's Coming Back!!

To not forget

I remember the pain,
that twisted my back, hands, face,
that pushed down,
deepened the pit.

I remember the weakness,
that furrowed my brow,
thickened the air,
emptied my spirit.

I remember the steps,
that reached too far,
the laughter that hurt,
the sounds that tore, crashed, burned.

I remember the tears.

And I want to remember,
to not forget,
the pain, the weakness, those steps,
of long ago,
to see the difference,
recognize the miles,
and celebrate.

"The Headache" B' minor

I think that was "The Headache".... in minor form.... with less med intrusion.... better hormonal balance.... stronger constitution.... definitely easier, sort of. The calendar confirms my suspicions (proof may come in a few days, we'll see). It still sucked, especially at night, but still better than usual.... Well, here's to hope...

Bitch, bitch, moan

My head hurts,
all day today,
and I seem to have lost the ability to multi task.
Maybe it's a skill and not just a talent I thought I had.
Maybe I'll have to work it back into place.
I can plan the steps, the timing (that returned about a week ago), but I lose my place.... walk away with the bagel in the toaster, wet clothes sit in the wash...
and the visuals are still here. Hit me once while packing, then again at the festival. I was hungry both times (but not tired).
Wonder if that will go away.
Man my head hurts.

New growth spotted

At the river,
tiny spikes covered my arms,
1 mm tall, giants,
holding back the water.
New growth,
strong and straight,
poked past,
little that remains
of hallow curls,
burnt scrags,
(like my head?)
remnants
to be replaced.

What a day 3

morning sun
coffee
cereal
gentle mosey
by the bands
dancing daughter
port-a-potties
money spent
flowy skirts
fancy shirt
lemonaid
french toast
scrambled eggs
eye candy...
still dancing
more music
River stop
cold and sandy
more eye candy
better bands
root beer float
veggie sandwich
leaning daughter
warm and sleepy
new stage
best band yet
CD signed
hummus avocado
then pizza
setting sun
blankets, chairs
hammocks, hammocks everywhere
easy new friends
over and over
play and play
walking back
hand in hand
daughter and I
dark and noisy
campfires glowing
tie-die flags
jamming clusters
talk of day
on and on
brushing teeth
dusty feet
zipping tent
read aloud
flashlight out
cheering crowds
big stage sounds
drifting through for hours

Ample returns

Best festival, best times: Suwannee Springfest (hands down)

Best band I saw: the everbodyfields (favorite line: 1/2 way dead, but still mostly strong) *CD signed

Best food: Chef Allen, curry sweet potato something, on rice, with black beans and crunchy cabbage

Best mid-drift: too many to decide

Best stage presence: Scythian (hot.... so hot)

Best company: my daughter

Best blues: Roy Book Binder *CD signed

Best band I missed: The Avett Brothers

Music Festival

off I go...

What am I doing... pulling out the tent, airing out the sleeping bags, dusting off the back pack... am I crazy.... to go camping so soon? In another life, I went every weekend, long ago it seems, big trips, burly girl, loads of fun, here I come. But I'm scared now, a little, what if it hurts too much, like before with the meds. What if I can't make it to the camp site.... and have to sit.... or cry again. What if the band stages are too far apart, and it's too hot.... and I cry again (in front of strangers, whisper, whisper).

I've got till tomorrow, noon, to plan, decide, escape. We'll stay till Sunday, noon, then free, easy, home.
Can I do it?
I can do it.
Can I?
Yes.
Really?
Sure.... just repeat after me:
I will say "NO" to heavy stuff.
I will keep to the edges till I find my stride.
I will spend all day at the river if necessary (screw the bands).
I will not rush, expect speed, or stress about time.
I will look for the ice cream vendor (there has to be one, right?).
I will make the best of it and observe the difference. There will be a difference, I know, between now, then, and tomorrow. That's good, all right, manageable, expected, right?

All the difference

between now and then (18 days free):

longer steps
straighter back
cleaner hair
higher eyebrows
fewer tears
tanner skin
faster movements
brighter eyes
bigger smiles
better conversations
cleaner floors
watered plants
a longer grocery list
with more ice cream (I've got to get a handle on that one...)
a silent watch
a better life

Solid sleep

Woke this morning from a solid sleep.
First in a very long, long, long time.
Dreamt of strawberries. I knew they weren't "the answer", but they tasted good enough.

Saturday morning inclusion

Daughter gave me the morning drill: eggs for breakfast, and cereal, then put the leotard on under her clothes. She reminds me twice NOT to yell "bravo" across the gymnasium when she does something particularly great and no flash photography. Got it. 8:45 am, arrived early enough for the tour. Here's her cubby, the locker room, the water fountain. That's her coach. We sit here till they call the class. Stretches are first (her least favorite part). Hopefully they will do the trampoline today. They did.

Such an early morning start up for a Saturday, yet here I am... Catching up.... on what my daughter has been doing for the last three months. She waves and smiles a lot. I watch from the edge of my seat, through flashing eyes and swirling vision, but that's ok, more water and a safe seat, I pull it off nicely. An hour later, she's back at her cubby, grabbing shoes and saying goodbye to friends. She glows.

Then on to my parent's house for a visit and a drop off (for a one night sleep over). I'm exhausted.
2nd non-post-injection Saturday.
Still tired.
Still recovering.
Still happy to go home, sit for awhile, stare at the grass, watch the wind.

Afternoon

Like a bigger purse,
my time gets filled,
more steps followed,
taken, cluttered,
without awareness or observation,
until I reach for my keys,
struggle, curse,
or feel the weight,
cut shoulders deep,
and pause,
reshuffle,
clean out,
go light,
remember.

Morning

The sound of horses,
I want to say,
is here,
coming,
on their way,
to join me.
To feel them,
I can,
arms reaching,
breath breathing,
hold still,
to see.

Power watching

Put my watch back on today. Had been missing the convenience, the color, the tool, the ritual of checking the day's name and date to jot down in my journal, top right, corner first, then the page can be filled. 10 days since I took it off, turned it off, put it away. I didn't want it anymore and now I do.

And then, less than an hour later, as we were walking towards the charred oak, my daughter called out "Wait! You're walking faster than I am!"....... we both paused..... stared at each other with mixed confusion..... such familiar words..... have I heard them before..... distant lands..... "What did you say?" I asked.... Whoo Hoo! We hugged, jumped, danced, and squealed. "That's the first time that's happened since treatment started!" I shouted. "I know!" she yelled.

Are they connected?

(Surprise) Last night, I

.... was given a surprise party. Felt like a rock star. My hubby did it, organized it all (my hubby!). Hosted by my awesome friends, with the perfect backyard spread, complete with warm spring breezes and clear evening skies. All my favorite people were there in person or in spirit. A night of names and stories, tossed around, lobbed back and forth, thick banter, pure and free, laughter flowed in circles, deep crescendos, peeking and crashing, again and again...

.... and all knowing about the hep C... there to celebrate my completed task, to cheer me on, slap my back, to ask uncertain questions, to have fun... to be wild... Must have been, what... 30, 40 people there? Counting the kids, yeah, at least, felt like it anyway. There were tablecloths with yellow flower center pieces, crowds of friends, good friends who hadn't seen each other in years, piles of food and the cake... had some for breakfast (having just written that line, I had to stop and have another... and another... now it's gone). And there was this big bouncy, blow-up, castle shaped, fair size, play thing in the corner yard. All night long, the kids (8, 9 of them?) jumped non-stop, rolled, flipped, flew apart to smash together, group games morphed at light speed. Amazing. The best kids, all of them, my favorite on the planet. My daughter's favorite mates.

And my parents were there..... and my mother in law and her sister visiting from South Dakota, my father in law, and the sister's husband..... even my brother in law, wife, niece and nephew came, and my friends.......... friends of 10 years, 15 years, and friends of new, friends from out of town, friends from in, all there yelling "Surprise!"

I almost passed out. Who knew it was going to be such a big deal. No one saw that coming did they. I thought I was simply going to a small intimate dinner party. They thought....? Well, my heart raced for nearly an hour. Couldn't catch my breath, or even look around for the first few minutes. Stumbled in shock towards my mom and drank water till my legs settled and my eyes focused. Then man.... what a good time! I can't believe the intimate conversations I had. One by one, clear and present, open and free, I remember them all...

Then my hubby tink tink tinked his glass and spoke, with teary eyes, words I will forever replay... about me....... I was riveted to my seat, unable, unwilling to look away. Take it in Ample, I said.... take it all in, this is real...... So I did, everything, the whole night, wonderful. I swear, I even enjoyed my trips to the bathroom, just so on the way back, I could chance a pause, hold invisible for a quiet moment, to watch, from the outside, the mass as a whole. So colorful.... Textures buzzed in random streams. Leaning heads bobbed while bodies stood open, sat relaxed... hmmmmm.........

And I kept it good till the very last moment, then stopped right on time. Felt the line approaching, the pumpkin spell breaking, the spark leaving my eyes, and trusted it. Even asked for help and got it fast, close friends jumped to, made it happen, gathered lost items and efficiently wrapped up the goodbyes. They practically kicked me out of the door (thank you, I mean it).

And the ride home, sweet, warm, safe to randomly replay visions of the wonder, to laugh out loud a few more times. On to sleep, heavy with light.... the whole night.... what a surprise. everything... still in shock....


and PS. to my blogging buddies: You were there, too. Your names are known to my close friends here. Your sites are visited regularly. Your stories mingle with mine. Can you believe it? I love it. I had no idea.

And thank you to everybody who came, what a surprise. Thank you. I mean it. We are so good.

Night wonders

Dreamt my house was falling in, rain was pouring through the ceilings. It's alright, I said. I love this house (and I meant it), will fix it later, as soon as you all leave. And my skin kept tearing, tissue thin, bleeding. Is there virus there, I wondered?

Anemic rampage

In spurts and sputters,
I have pushed and pulled,
At the clutter, the filth, the junk unfiled,
Buildups of the year 'on leave'.
Little headway,
All else suffers,
Done for awhile.

Well, I'm not crazy

Surprise call from the doctor this morning, "You're still feeling tired aren't you."
"Yeah", I whimpered pathetically, tears immediately beginning to well (gezz).
My red blood cells are still a little low (yesterday's labs, 10.3), she explained, everything else is good, thyroid functioning, liver enzymes, yata, yata, but the red ones. I knew it! So I'm not crazy (or a wimp, which I was beginning to secretly suspect)! Whoo hoo! Instant relief..... whew....

Back in one month to retest. Till then, "Patience" she said.

Post treatment warning label

should read: don't expect the moon, instant recoveries, or patient children.

Still tired, easily lit on fire, and my head still hurts..... searching to find the improvements (I know it's only been 4 days), have come up with two: no more pulse-pace swooshing in my head (I know I've already mentioned this one, but it's a biggie, deserves repeat), and no more visual disturbances, flashing lights, or spotty blackouts (not since last Friday). So that's good.

But when will I get an energetic day? That's what my daughter would like to know. I've explained the uncertain logistics, but honestly I'm struggling with impatience as well. Typical. More of my perpetual drill: stay realistic, stay realistic, stay realistic...

Still better than treatment! Oh Yeah! Way better! Hands down! No contest! Just still kind of the same though....

ps. (7 hours later) scratch the "no more visual disturbances" off the list, got some doozies in the store today. I was tired, hungry, all the usual lead-ins, then hello.... damn.... lower my expectations, lower my expectations, lower my expectations....

Two days free

Two days free and there's already a little pep in my step. My head is killing me, but the swooshing sound disappeared yesterday afternoon. I'm still a bit tired, to be expected, but I'm stronger, more steady, and I'm smiling a lot. Last night's fire celebration was great, but I got a bit spooked towards the end, a sudden cold chill and bam, I was packing it in... woooooo woooo wooooooo. It was fun though. Yeah... this is nice, being done with treatment... already much easier, I can feel it. I imagine these meds draining out of me, nature taking back its land, and my muscles turning strong as trees.

Just me and my fire, my journal, my doll, my sand:

I see my place, my talent, my line.
I choose to accept Hep C as a present full of wonder.
I am a unique grain of sand.
I know the meaning of effort and victory.
I make wise choices for when to let go.
I have the intuition to understand and the will to carry through.
I am the artist in the middle.

The Last Minute

6:30pm Watch chimes during the drive home. I let it go, listen, grin, lingering over the button before I press.

7:11 Groceries are put away. Shot is warming beside me. Potty break.

7:18 All washed up. Slapping way.

7:27 Finally kicked my hubby out, all personal crisis about work stuff. Hello! I'm having a moment here! He's gone now. Back to slapping.

7:29 I need something to drink.

7:30 Back to slapping.

7:31 Prepping the needle. Slap, slap, slap.

7:32 This is it... slap, slap, slap.

7:35 Pinch, point, pace around.

7:36 Starting to cry. Breathe, breathe, slap, slap, slap.

7:38 Done... 48 shots, all done. I'm done. I did it! I finished treatment!!! Heavy crying, blind heaving, wall clinging.

7:46 Calm. Surprisingly calm. Taller I think, too.

Brilliant, beautiful, new

Woke to the last day at midnight.
Heavy storms drove us down stairs for a short while.
Then this morning, sun breaking through, everything wet, scoured, bright.
Daughter cheering the end of treatment with her first breath.
Presents declaring "completion" drive me to tears.
I've made it.
Coffee time and I must shield myself from wasteful conversation.
No negativity today from yesterday about tomorrow, quiet, I'm channeling this moment.
Then watch time chimes for my last three pills.
I watch the box.
I hold them.
Then in my mouth, I caress them and swallow.
One more shot tonight, the final.
But for me, the end has already begun, brilliant, beautiful, new.

The first goodbye

Thursday evening, going to bed, agreeing to say goodbye to the last before the last of 48 weeks.

Tomorrow will be the final.

I am here.

The end,

from the beginning,

is here.

Patience

But of course this is hard,
I'm a lioness on fire,
To be still and grounded,
When so full of desire.

Wanting to sprint it,
Race the last course,
Break from the pack,
Leap with full force.

Of course this is hard,
Such movement's still pain,
Held back by limitations,
Speed never gained.

Must allow myself patience,
Direct strength free of sorrow,
The end will come sooner,
If I float through tomorrow.