The One in Which I Talk About Rainbows & Unicorns (That's a Lie.)

I'm kind of speechless that this image even exists...Google rocks!
http://jess4921.deviantart.com/art/Behold-A-Rainbow-Unicorn-Ninja-89652879

This post has nothing to do with Rainbows or Unicorns. It's actually a pretty serious post about life & death. But when I googled "rainbows and unicorns", this is what came up, so I had to share it with you. You're welcome.

I've mentioned I've been struggling lately - emotionally - and I reached out a hand to this organization called cancer CAREpoint. [One again, I have to say that if  you are a cancer warrior or caregiver in the San Jose/Bay Area, they have so much to offer! Don't wait like I did to connect with them!]

So, I had an appointment this week with one of their professional volunteers - people who have private practices and donate their time to this organization to benefit cancer patients/survivors. I don't want to say that much about the nature of my appointment, (not 'cause I'm embarrassed, but because I want to respect her anonymity). It was the our first time meeting together one-on-one, so we talked about my experiences so far and what I needed from her.

At one point, she tentatively dipped our toes in the water and asked me, "Have you thought about your own death?" These people deal with patients with terminal diagnoses all of the time, so she said it much more delicately and expertly. But that's the first time anyone has so directly asked me that since my diagnosis. Let's just say that it's not the kind of thing you would bring up at a dinner party with someone who had a terminal illness. [Imagining drunken idiot slurring out, "So, how does it feel to know you're probably gonna die soon?"] Actually, with all the other well-meaning, but insensitive things that I have heard, it's kind of surprising that I haven't heard that one yet.]

But it was a relief to have someone ask me - and I could tell she sensed that right away. [I told you she was a Professional!] I realized that in some ways I was still very much in denial about my diagnosis, partly because my loved ones don't want to even think, let alone talk about the possibility of my death. Completely natural. But I'm in that place now. It you read my previous post, we're in that gray area now with my treatment - like, the doctors don't have any real answers about what to do next. In a lot of ways, it's all like a crap-shoot and pure Dumb Luck. Hence, my recent transition from 'I got this!" to "I ain't go this!"

Since you're not a Professional (or a drunken idiot, as far as I know) and wouldn't ask,.. The answer is: Yes, of course I've thought/think about my death.FYI: I'm not afraid of my own death, in the sense that I worry about what's going to happen. I didn't have a classic Judeo-Christian upbringing , so I don't think I'm going anywhere - no heaven, no hell. [I was going to say, "I hope I don't offend anyone out there," but you know what? My beliefs are just as valid as yours, so almost-apology rescinded. I am proud of my spiritual beliefs. I think they make me a better person and isn't that what it's all about?]

Just in case you missed it, if we go way, way back [in the Way Back Machine - DUH!], somewhere I said here in this blog that I believe that God is in all of us, not a man or separate entity, disconnected "above" us. The sum of  Goodness of us all is what I call God. I try to live my life with integrity, tapping into the Goodness within myself and spreading it around through my thoughts and actions. The more we do that - as a collective group - the more GOD shines through in our lives. I have never felt God so strongly as I have in these past months, with so many of you thinking about me and praying for me. I feel it, and it's a beautiful thing.

But it's difficult - especially for our closest loved ones - to think about our deaths. And there is even a superstitious quality to it, like if I start to think about it that I'm "giving up" or "bidding death to come".

Let's set the record straight: I do not want die any time soon. But I realized in that relief I felt with this woman's question that it's been in my mind...I would be crazy not to be thinking about it in my current situation...and I needed need to talk about it. She said something that hit the nail on the head with this analogy - Kiddies, I'm giving credit to her, although she may have picked this up from someone else or a book herself (She is a cancer survivor.) - Once a person has been told "You have cancer", it's like you've been handed a boarding pass. Of course, all of us think about death and know it's coming sometime in their future. But I have a boarding pass. Some people have boarding passes for journeys that are imminent. I'm grateful that I am just on "standby" at the moment, shall we say?Someone can say, "Yea, but we're all gonna die sometime!" But do you have a boarding pass?

So, it's like the OPPOSITE of Southwest - You DON'T want to be in that first boarding group, A. And no one is jockeying for position to get that extra leg room. [Okay, I think I've officially exhausted this analogy, so let's move on...]

This does not betray or negate all my efforts to be the Outlier and the Ninja Warrior who is going to continue to fight like hell to be a Long Term Survivor and have as much time as possible here with my family. No one knows when it will take my life. And I will continue to do the same things I've been doing - everything I can to delay my death. But if I were a bettin' man, I would say someday in my future, eventually, this GBM will guarantee me a seat.

Back to my conversation with The Professional:  I responded, "Of course, I think about my death sometimes. But no one really wants to talk about it." And that, my lovelies, is why I've been struggling lately. [cue tears]

Once I voiced this aloud to this woman, it was a game changer. It's taboo to talk about it in public. It makes people uncomfortable. Some of you are considering bailing on this particular blog post already because it makes you cry or protest. I can see you through your web cam. (Not really. but I freaked you out for second, didn't I? Busted!) But I will persist. This is my truth. I will not censor it to avoid offending anybody. We each must deal with what we've been given in our own way. In other words: don't tell me how to handle my terminal illness diagnosis, please. And I'll respect your desire to turn a blind eye if you must. Thanks. [Plus, I have a #cancercard and a #boardingpass now! neener-neener-neener!]

So, what do I think about my own death? As I said, I'm not afraid of what comes next for me. What makes me sad is thinking of my children, and grandchildren (Autumn and those to come),

Gratuitous picture of my granddaughter in her Disney Princess outfit Grandpa Steven picked out for her.

...and of course, my best friend, Steven. Just last night, we celebrated our "baby" Sara's 21st birthday. I am so proud of my children and the family Steven and I have made together. I think about missing birthdays, and Christmases, and Steven's Beloved Thanksgivings, births and weddings...I will be missing but not "missing" it, if you get my drift? What makes me sad is for my family having "that moment" where they reflect upon me not being there...and -  miss me.

But if you look back on my belief system, I think I WILL be there. In the heart and souls of everyone who is thinking about me. My hope is to leave a legacy that people remember - for it's Goodness. When people say that, "I know my father is here with us, looking down on me proudly, " I always thought it was a little creepy, like ghosts, watching over us. To me, our loved ones that have passed away are not over us or below us or among us...they are IN us, all the time. It's the legacy we leave.

The Professional and I spent a lot of time talking about the yin & yang of life & death, how they are connected naturally. She encouraged me - not to dwell on death - but begin to turn my head and look at it. Not avert my eyes in denial, which causes much more stress and anxiety. Instead, start to look at how death is inevitably connected with life.

The other day, Steven and I were on one of our notorious walks up The Hill. In case you haven't heard, it's dry here in California. I know that's hard to some of you to imagine, given the onslaught of rain you've had, but it's bone dry.

The hill is completely filled with wild grass,, and the landscapers are trying to get a handle on it because it's a huge wildfire hazard, but they can't seem to weed wack it down fast enough. This one day, we had a little breeze going through in the late afternoon which had pulled several of the shoots out of their "socket" and they were swirling in front of us in a loose circle. We stopped to watch with fascination, and Steven said, "We should video tape this." (which if you know Steven, is NOT his usual M.O.) But it was so cool, it was almost like magic. We could have fumbled with our cell phones, but  I said that it would never capture the magic of the moment. So, we just stood there and watched the dried grasses dance together, eventually settling on the other side of the path.

I was thinking about this moment on my walk yesterday and realizing that's a perfect analogy to what I'm trying to say about my death. The dancing, dried grass stalks are dead, and yet they contain hundreds...thousands? of seeds that will pop up next season. I hope I'm there to see them. In fact, I'm putting that on my Goal board: walk The Hill with Steven and watch the young buds start to pop up out of the ground. But if I'm not around anymore, and a magical swirl of dried grass "dancers" appears in front of Steven, I'm guessing that he will probably think of me. And in that way, yes, I will be there with him - but not in a creepy, ghosty kind of way - more of Good/Godly kind of way.