Living Gently

Lately I have been thinking a lot about “living gently.” A few days ago a friend of mine posted this quote attributed to Buddha, “In the end, only three things matter: how much you loved, how gently you lived, and how gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”  I had shared this quote on Facebook prefaced by the comment, “The last two are hard for me.  Living gently and letting go are not my strong suits.

By contrast I have always completely identified with the individuals described in the opening lines in Marge Piercy’s poem, To Be of Use:

The people I love the best

jump into work head first

without dallying in the shallows

and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.

They seem to become natives of that element,

the black sleek heads of seals

bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,

who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,

who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,

who do what has to be done, again and again.

There is no question in my mind that Marge would have loved me. 

But these days I am trying pause before diving head first into anything.  I am trying to learn to dally in the shallows. 

It has been six weeks since my last, and what turned out to be my final, chemotherapy treatment.  Since that time I have been through two more cycles of Herceptin, the targeted biological therapy that is used on HER2+ breast cancer patients.  If my heart function improves, or at least does not diminish, I will continue with the Herceptin (delivered via Violet, my trusty purple power port) through April 2014.  Next week, I will most likely begin Anastrozole, which is the hormone therapy used to treat breast cancer that is estrogen positive.  More drugs, more side effects.  Insert big sigh.

At this time, things not meant for me, include the image of myself as someone who never even remembers to take vitamins let alone other medications, who is willing and able to go anywhere as long as I have my passport and my credit card, and who can dive in, work all day like a horse and get any job done that I think needs to get done. 

Next week includes beginning of the year workshops and meetings at school.  First year students arrive over Labor Day weekend and classes begin on the third of September.  And, yes, I am going back to work on a full-time basis.

My syllabi are far from finished, and I am moving more slowly than my usual breakneck pace, but on a much deeper level I am ready to go back.  While I am trying to live more gently, and gracefully let go of things not meant for me it is not yet time for me to let go of my role as a teacher.  And for that, I am extremely grateful.

 

Matters of the Heart

On Thursday, August 1, I arrived at the Andreas Cancer Center as physically and psychologically prepared as I could possibly be for my sixth and final chemotherapy treatment.  However, it was not to be.  When I had met with my oncologist prior to my fifth treatment, I had asked him when they would be repeating my “MUGA” test since I felt my heart was needing to work harder than usual in recent days.  I realized I had spent a great deal of the past three months lying on the couch post chemo so I knew my cardiovascular endurance was way down, but I was concerned it was more than just that. 

Before beginning Herceptin, patients are routinely given a MUGA test to get a baseline as to how well their heart is functioning.  Normal heart function falls within a score of 50 – 70 and mine was a healthy 64.  Last Friday my MUGA test was repeated and I had dropped to score of 51.  This still fell within the range of “normal” - but just barely.  My oncologist wanted me to see a cardiologist immediately, and the cardiologist wanted me to have an MRI of my heart immediately and the upshot of all of that was my oncologist’s decision that I was done with chemotherapy.   

However, I did receive my normal dose of Herceptin and the assurance that my heart function would be monitored very closely.  On one hand I was relieved not to have to go through any more chemotherapy.  On the other hand, having the word “mild” precede the words “heart failure,” does not do much the mitigate the impact when the discussion is centered on the current state of my very own heart. 

My oncologist seemed to affirm the point of view stated on the breastcancer.org website that “Women who experience mild or more serious heart damage can stop taking Herceptin and start taking heart-strengthening medications.  This often brings heart function back to normal. “

The cardiologist I saw told me while this is usually the case, it is not always the case and I cannot count on my heart function returning to normal.  Which leads me to believe I will once again be weighing the risks versus the benefits of continuing on this course of treatment. 

With no additional information to base future decisions, I am doing the only thing I know how to do.  I am continuing to try to move forward.  Saturday morning I very slowly walked the five or six blocks to the yoga studio in town, and carefully participating in my first yoga class in six months.  I knew that Judy, one of my first yoga teachers and someone I respect and trust completely, would be teaching class.  There were a few moments when I thought I would be overwhelmed by the emotion of simply being back in the studio but I managed to stay present and continue.  I discovered, not surprisingly, that months of lying on the couch have taken a toll on the strength in my upper back.  But overall it went okay.  The walk home was even slower than the walk there but that too was okay. 

Last summer when I was at Aldermarsh on Whidbey Island, I was introduced to Rune Stones.  Just inside the door to the retreat center was a drawstring bag containing smoothly polished rocks each marked with a symbol attributed to ancient Nordic Tribes dating back around 200 BCE.  The Book of Runes helps decipher these symbols.  At the end of each day I would reach into the bag, pull out a stone and look up the symbol.  It always gave me something to think about and, at times, was exactly what I needed to process. 

Perhaps I was looking for an antidote to this world of high tech medicine but about a month ago I found myself searching, finding and buying myself a set of Rune stones.  The week before my last scheduled chemo, I reached into the bag for the first time and pulled out a stone.  It contained the symbol fehu.  Here is what the Book of Runes says about fehu.

Fehu is the Rune of fulfillment: ambition satisfied, love shared, rewards received.  It promises nourishment from the most worldly to the sacred and the Divine.  For if the ancient principle “ As above so below” hold true, then we are also here to nourish God.

This Rune calls for a deep probing of the meaning of profit and gain in your life.  Look with care to know whether it is wealth and possessions you require for your well-being, or rather self-rule and the growth of a will.

Another concern of Fehu is to conserve what has already been gained.  This Rune urges vigilance and continual mindfulness, especially in times of good fortune, for it is then you are likely to collapse yourself into your success on the one hand, or behave recklessly on the other.  Enjoy your good fortune and remember to share it, for the mark of the well-nourished self is the ability and willingness to nourish others.

The night before I was scheduled for that last chemo, I once again reached into the bag.  I felt through all the smooth stones, let most slip from my hand and pulled out the single stone remaining in my hand.  Fehu.  I had drawn the same stone. 

There is comfort in the promise of nourishment, as I whole-heartedly face the days ahead.