Despite the month of March giving us a good whack of winter weather, here we are at the end of the month, already into spring. It's a clouded rainy day, just the kind to burrow into the comforts of home with a good book or movie. As I sit here looking out at the rain, I can't help but wonder where the birds and squirrels have cuddled up in an effort to stay warm and dry. Really though, where do they go, all together, all at once? Are they huddled together playing cards or layered one on top of the other snoozing the day away? Each morning it's great fun to watch the young rodents racing up and down trees chasing one another, climbing up then scampering across a branch only to take a flying leap to the next tree with great ease. In recent weeks we've had one visitor stretch itself out on the railing of the deck as though sunning on a tropical beach, soaking up the warm sunshine. It's soothing to have such mundane things to ponder.
A six month visit to the oncologist provided a little comic relief as the doc walked in, gave me a great big hug (for the first time), sat down shaking her head. She uttered something like 'the chemo has worked geniusly excellent' to have me looking and feeling so well. I'm not sure what they expected nor did I inquire. Given the recent scans and positive results, we all agreed to simply continue to live every day to the fullest. A follow up in two months will hopefully surprise them as well. Should anything untoward surface, the next step will be to do a blood test to gauge the 'tumour marker', CA125.
Welcome to life of managing a chronic, yet life threatening illness. Can we consider booking a trip in October to visit Barcelona, Lourdes and Rome? Can you go in the summer? No, it's a guided tour. Well then, make sure you take out insurance. Ok. No further explanation required. None given.
Treatment will be considered to improve quality of life. Is life better or worse with treatment?
We go through the motions of many words left unsaid, niggling questions unspoken. We all know the rules of the game and the score. All is well until it's not. It's anyone's guess when things might change and how. While the progression of my particular disease is fairly predictable, my particular case has been anything but typical and hence not predictable. As I've said so many times before, an adventure to be sure. One that challenges your thoughts, beliefs and values right to the core. Having said that, the sense of calm and peace is growing, with acceptance fertilizing the soil to which we all must return some day.
As the relentless war on my imagination continues, I asked Mike his views on how I might slay the dragons of my mind. His answer surprised me. When he was a child, he, like all of us, had monsters hiding under his bed. Of course only at night. To this day I can't entertain sleeping with an arm or leg dangling perilously over the edge of the safety of my mattress. What did he do?! My Archangel Michael? As a little kid, he stared his fear in the face and called the monsters out! He actually dared them to show themselves despite the dark shadows of his bedroom. Apparently it worked for him. They didn't. He dispelled the monsters, never having to deal with them again. In a sort of weird way I understand his strategy and may well attempt a similar tactic. Not without my imaginary suit of armour of course.
It's best of course to carry on like everyone else, content with daily routines, saying yes when I feel like it and no more often. After all, for so many years it was automatically yes whether I was interested in doing something or not. This whole turning 60 thing has me feeling liberated while shedding layers of anxiety like a snake wriggling out of its old skin. By simplifying the recesses of my mind, it's no longer whirling like that little multi coloured circle on my computer when it doesn't know what to do.
Over the past few weeks, especially during Lent, I've signed up for the Alpha course (again) to help nurture the relationship I already have with God. It's very helpful to get together as a small group to discuss messages presented in the videos and trying to figure out what they mean and how they affect each of us. As the weeks pass, trust grows and sharing intensifies among the members, maybe like hikers on a wilderness journey relying on one another to make it through. I've also attended a couple of workshops on Ignatian Spirituality which left me with more than a couple of aha moments. I likened it to working on a puzzle and having pieces fall into place in a way I never anticipated.
I've been wrestling with the notion of temptation, sin and whether it's a sin to simply think something without acting on that thought. It's written somewhere even by thinking or longing for something you shouldn't, you've sinned. That's a pretty big burden and one requiring discussion and explanation from Fr. Leo who has become my spiritual director. First of all, he reassured me thought without acting upon it is just thought. We took it a little further to talk about temptation and how difficult it seems sometimes to suppress it. Too often we can rationalize just about anything, including acting on temptation. Recently one of the homilies at mass on the topic of temptation was like a bright white light shining right into the darkness of those recesses of our souls. Instead of trying to suppress temptation, we can be vigilant when it shows itself, and use it as a signal to turn our attention to God. Whatever brand of temptation we may be offered, the response must be the same. We can and must depend on His guidance completely. Taking this message to heart, I felt cleansed of the negative emotions that often accompany periods of temptation and happily turn them over to the only One who can truly dispel them. For me it was one of those times when I say "You don't get it until you get it." If none of this makes sense, I'll leave you with the saying that Fr. Leo used to start, and end, the sermon.
"I didn't know God was all I needed, until God was all I had."
With that I will leave you with your own thoughts and wish you the best as we move toward Easter in just a couple of weeks.
Take care and God Bless,
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
'Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive.'
Friday, 31 March 2017
Wednesday, 15 March 2017
Giving, and Taking, the World as it is......
As we watch the days creep ever closer to spring, do you sometimes wonder how the weather can change so quickly and so profoundly? We had our 'regular' Tuesday snowstorm this week, thankful for yet another 'snow day' not having to be declared given the kids are home or away for March break. I can't help but contemplate how people's lives can be changed in an instant such as the major pileup on the 401 east of Kingston during blinding snow. Not one of those drivers or passengers had a conscious or deliberate thought they were going to be faced with a real life, dangerous version of bumper cars like we used to ride at the amusement park as children. No, they planned their days like the rest of us, headed out, then without notice or warning, Bang! Then, exposure to a toxic spill requiring decontamination and medical clearance at KGH. Yet here we are today enjoying bright sunshine and, for most of us, vague recall of the events two days earlier. It's times like these to be grateful for what we have not experienced and, by the grace of God, safe and sound in our own lives. It's times like these to be thankful we cannot see too far ahead of what's in store for us. It's a good example of why we must be true to living in the moment.
The subject of living in the moment seems to gain clarity during periods of relatively stable health. Without any major setback, without doctor's appointments or tests being scheduled, there's time to contemplate life as a chronically 'ill' person. I get up every day - yay, I got up without help - shuffle off to the bathroom - yay - I can still relieve myself on my own, get dressed by myself - oh yes I can, and head down the stairs which I'm still able to navigate - you got it, on my own. When I take the most basic parts of routine apart, examine them carefully, I realize how blessed I am even before boiling water for tea. Without going through the rest of the day in such detail, you get the picture.
The point I'm trying to make is how mobile and capable I remain despite fairly significant physical setbacks over the past few years. Friends also gently remind me how time continues to march on, challenging us to keep up the pace, or at least to maintain the beat! Oh how true.
Over the past week, time was set aside to pay some attention to one of my three main priorities for the year. In this case reviewing my estate plans and will. Before getting into too many details, it was important to confirm some of the basics. It all started with a call to the cemetery to inquire about how my name was on the 'condo' marker. I reference 'condo' as the niche that will eventually hold my earthly remains upon cremation. Its full description is the 'condo in the country', being out of town, north of Kingston to Glenburnie. The phone call turned into an invitation to do a file review as last contact was 2003. I wasn't surprised. After all, when we moved and sent out address changes, the cemetery wasn't high on the list. In fact it wasn't on the list at all.
Mike and I spent a good chunk of our day reviewing my file, creating one for Mike and getting caught up in the details of dealing with our remains when the time comes. I've long wondered what frame of mind people are in when they engage in discussion for real about the logistics of death and dying. How do they start the conversation? How do they deal with emotions? We both felt quite comfortable and in agreement that it seems to be one of those life events you know when it's the right time without having to push it. That is, if you like to take care of such things while still independent and can think clearly.
Having dealt with the loss of a loved one both ways; once with no plans in place; once with all plans in place, it's so much easier not trying to guess what they may have wanted. As I've often said, 'No matter how prepared you might be for the loss of a loved one, you're never really ready.' To remove the burden from our family is a greater gift than they may ever realize. On a somewhat deeper level, dealing with such sensitive issues during Lent is true service to others, those closest to us.
A suggestion made by a local charity is to give away 40 things during the 40 days of Lent, and even provided a garbage bag to hold the items. I'm not really sure why but that particular offer, gave me deep pause for thought. Ask anyone close to me and they'll either roll their eyes or shake their head in how deep and complicated I can make anything, including a garbage bag! Here's my thinking.
If we are truly concerned with those with less, those who are poor, those who are discarded, like garbage, then why, oh why, would we fill a garbage bag with items to give to them? It resonates right down to my gut. I've done it many times myself. After all, the bags are clean, convenient and hold a large number of clothes or other items to be passed along in an efficient manner. And what about those seven garbage bags of children's and men's clothing sitting in our loft room, awaiting delivery to the charity of our choice? To gauge my own reaction, I went through every item of clothing, folding and sorting, checking for wear and tear that might render it unwearable. It really wasn't a surprise to see how clean and in what great condition most items were. We filled several extra laundry baskets we had along with a few open boxes to deliver to St. Vincent de Paul. I called ahead to learn they are always in need of men's clothing in particular. What a joyful experience it turned into, offering laundry baskets of clean, folded and sorted clothing. A small point? Perhaps but one I leave for you to ponder.
Over the next couple of weeks, I will explore deeply how God and Holy Spirit ask me to spend my time, and hopefully be able to share some of those experiences. For now, take care and,
God Bless,
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."
The subject of living in the moment seems to gain clarity during periods of relatively stable health. Without any major setback, without doctor's appointments or tests being scheduled, there's time to contemplate life as a chronically 'ill' person. I get up every day - yay, I got up without help - shuffle off to the bathroom - yay - I can still relieve myself on my own, get dressed by myself - oh yes I can, and head down the stairs which I'm still able to navigate - you got it, on my own. When I take the most basic parts of routine apart, examine them carefully, I realize how blessed I am even before boiling water for tea. Without going through the rest of the day in such detail, you get the picture.
The point I'm trying to make is how mobile and capable I remain despite fairly significant physical setbacks over the past few years. Friends also gently remind me how time continues to march on, challenging us to keep up the pace, or at least to maintain the beat! Oh how true.
Over the past week, time was set aside to pay some attention to one of my three main priorities for the year. In this case reviewing my estate plans and will. Before getting into too many details, it was important to confirm some of the basics. It all started with a call to the cemetery to inquire about how my name was on the 'condo' marker. I reference 'condo' as the niche that will eventually hold my earthly remains upon cremation. Its full description is the 'condo in the country', being out of town, north of Kingston to Glenburnie. The phone call turned into an invitation to do a file review as last contact was 2003. I wasn't surprised. After all, when we moved and sent out address changes, the cemetery wasn't high on the list. In fact it wasn't on the list at all.
Mike and I spent a good chunk of our day reviewing my file, creating one for Mike and getting caught up in the details of dealing with our remains when the time comes. I've long wondered what frame of mind people are in when they engage in discussion for real about the logistics of death and dying. How do they start the conversation? How do they deal with emotions? We both felt quite comfortable and in agreement that it seems to be one of those life events you know when it's the right time without having to push it. That is, if you like to take care of such things while still independent and can think clearly.
Having dealt with the loss of a loved one both ways; once with no plans in place; once with all plans in place, it's so much easier not trying to guess what they may have wanted. As I've often said, 'No matter how prepared you might be for the loss of a loved one, you're never really ready.' To remove the burden from our family is a greater gift than they may ever realize. On a somewhat deeper level, dealing with such sensitive issues during Lent is true service to others, those closest to us.
A suggestion made by a local charity is to give away 40 things during the 40 days of Lent, and even provided a garbage bag to hold the items. I'm not really sure why but that particular offer, gave me deep pause for thought. Ask anyone close to me and they'll either roll their eyes or shake their head in how deep and complicated I can make anything, including a garbage bag! Here's my thinking.
If we are truly concerned with those with less, those who are poor, those who are discarded, like garbage, then why, oh why, would we fill a garbage bag with items to give to them? It resonates right down to my gut. I've done it many times myself. After all, the bags are clean, convenient and hold a large number of clothes or other items to be passed along in an efficient manner. And what about those seven garbage bags of children's and men's clothing sitting in our loft room, awaiting delivery to the charity of our choice? To gauge my own reaction, I went through every item of clothing, folding and sorting, checking for wear and tear that might render it unwearable. It really wasn't a surprise to see how clean and in what great condition most items were. We filled several extra laundry baskets we had along with a few open boxes to deliver to St. Vincent de Paul. I called ahead to learn they are always in need of men's clothing in particular. What a joyful experience it turned into, offering laundry baskets of clean, folded and sorted clothing. A small point? Perhaps but one I leave for you to ponder.
Over the next couple of weeks, I will explore deeply how God and Holy Spirit ask me to spend my time, and hopefully be able to share some of those experiences. For now, take care and,
God Bless,
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."
Wednesday, 1 March 2017
Stable Health Topped with Tiny Miracles
I got up this morning fully prepared to attend mass, meet with Father Leo for bi-monthly spiritual counselling then home to write today's post. Ah, but as they say, 'If you want to make God laugh, just make plans.' True enough today, once home from church I was sidelined by phone calls and visits, leaving my highest priority to the end of the day! It's perhaps one of the downfalls of retirement, not having a structured daily routine to help channel my energy and focus. Of late, I find myself starting any number of activities, only to set them aside midway to start yet another great idea or interesting task.
My overall health remains relatively stable, to the point someone commented in a caring way a couple of days ago, how well I've been 'fighting the battle', asking if I was in remission. They were surprised by my response when I said I choose not to go into battle as I really hate conflict and don't want to fight.
First of all, no I'm not in remission, and in fact am deemed 'medically incurable'. Second, I've accepted the cancer cells as having declared squatter's rights in my liver. I'm grateful they have not overtaken the life giving functions it performs on a daily basis. They have been cooperative since last May, and will, God willing, remain docile. For a long while I wondered, if there was a mass of 10 x 15 cm x 9 cm., in my abdomen, why I couldn't feel anything. Perhaps, and the only answer I could come up with was it was buried in the massive weight gain.
Lately many people have remarked on how well I look now that I've lost 52 of the 80 pounds of medical weight gain. It's a year since coming off the medication giving my body a chance to regain some of its former identity. Aha, but now when I lay in bed, and gently prod my midsection, there is a distinct difference from anything I've felt before. Sure enough, the doctor confirmed as much last month after the ultrasound confirmed no progression of disease. There is a sense of pressure on various organs such as my stomach, lungs, spleen and maybe others I can't even think of, along with any number of veins and nerves. One may question why the doctors can't just go in and remove the mass, well it's just not that simple and the cons can outweigh the pros of considering such a procedure. Without going into details, I've accepted surgery is not an option and am prepared to consider alternatives to managing my health.
Last week included a follow up mammogram after the routine exam in August revealed a 9 mm suspicious looking something or other. Given the literal dimensions of my other medical issues, I decided my precious energy was not going to be spent on a 9 mm, 'we're not sure what'. As it turned out, the phone call came yesterday giving the all clear to go back to regular two year testing. I tucked the news into my 'daily miracle folder' which is growing in relation to my faith and trust along with willingness to see God in all things.
Given the pace by which my life has slowed down, I have the time and space to observe some of the little things that, in the past, simply flashed by in a blur of activity. Noticing these things is almost like watching a flower bloom in slow motion, gently opening up of its own accord, or a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly without need of prying hands to help it along. Can it be that 'Little Miss Force It' (one of Mike's nicknames for me) is actually transforming into 'Little Miss Wonder' at how life can unfold so easily by simply being open and available to help coming our way?
Here are a few examples of how simple it gets and yet, how much joy comes to my heart from God's tiny daily miracles.
Last April, yes almost a year ago, I took photos of an 'ancient' nun - that's how they often refer to themselves and promised to send them to her. Just recently, prints in hand, ready to mail but alas, her name escaped me. Aha, a simple phone call to my dear friend Sister P.A. will rescue me from embarrassment. I walked in the door after mass to hear Mike on the phone, only to say it was none other than Sister P.A. checking in and checking up. Name obtained. Thank You God.
Over the last while a couple of issues have come up with my CPAP gear; that's the equipment I use to keep me breathing at night. Mental note made to call and make an appointment. In the midst of 'clutter puttering', crossing off cryptic notes on GOOS paper (good on one side), I turned it over to find a flyer from the CPAP folks with their phone number in my hand. Call and appointment made. Thank You God.
At a new weekly program at church small groups were colour coded. Being a 'matchy matchy' person by nature, and host of the yellow group meant I needed to find a yellow top. Ya, ya, cheesy but fun for me. As Mike and I were waltzing the aisles of Costco, a regular stop in the ladies clothing section revealed - you got it, a yellow top. Too funny. And yes, many fun comments were made about the top matching the tablecloths, flowers, napkins and candy. Thank You God.
Yesterday on our way out the door to Ash Wednesday Mass, Mike mentioned he wanted to stop at the funeral home. No problem, we both know this couple. A wonderful book highlighting the life of the deceased, was reviewed for us by our friend. As he turned the pages, it occurred to me, this is exactly what I've had in mind in terms of photo books for family members. No wonder it hadn't come together before now despite numerous attempts and failures. Feeling compelled to acknowledge her gift of creating the memorial for her Dad, she responded by excitedly offering to get together to work on books together. Now this is a true prayer answered. Thank You God.
The photo books are one of three major projects or goals I'd like to accomplish while my health remains stable. The others, while also works in progress, are somehow less pressing than creating a family history as complete as possible, to pass on. This stage of life and health brings into much sharper focus the importance of family and consideration of how we will leave stories told rather than untold, lives lived and challenges overcome. To leave for future generations, a glimmer of where and who they came from.
As we enter the season of Lent as Christians, it is a time of reflection to honour God through actions and acts of selfless service to others. As a younger person, I remember feeling extremely self conscious to spend the day with ashes smeared on my forehead without truly understanding the symbolism. Yesterday was very different, especially given today's global state of affairs. The response was surprisingly supportive as we commented that, in this country, we get to walk around with ashes on our forehead. As I make the effort to spend the next 40 days in prayer, fasting and giving to others, it's a time to consider my own relationship with God and how it plays out in my daily life.
The last while has been a time of relative calm, living life to the fullest and enjoying time with family and friends. I look forward to many more such times......
Take care and God Bless,
Hugs
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."
My overall health remains relatively stable, to the point someone commented in a caring way a couple of days ago, how well I've been 'fighting the battle', asking if I was in remission. They were surprised by my response when I said I choose not to go into battle as I really hate conflict and don't want to fight.
First of all, no I'm not in remission, and in fact am deemed 'medically incurable'. Second, I've accepted the cancer cells as having declared squatter's rights in my liver. I'm grateful they have not overtaken the life giving functions it performs on a daily basis. They have been cooperative since last May, and will, God willing, remain docile. For a long while I wondered, if there was a mass of 10 x 15 cm x 9 cm., in my abdomen, why I couldn't feel anything. Perhaps, and the only answer I could come up with was it was buried in the massive weight gain.
Lately many people have remarked on how well I look now that I've lost 52 of the 80 pounds of medical weight gain. It's a year since coming off the medication giving my body a chance to regain some of its former identity. Aha, but now when I lay in bed, and gently prod my midsection, there is a distinct difference from anything I've felt before. Sure enough, the doctor confirmed as much last month after the ultrasound confirmed no progression of disease. There is a sense of pressure on various organs such as my stomach, lungs, spleen and maybe others I can't even think of, along with any number of veins and nerves. One may question why the doctors can't just go in and remove the mass, well it's just not that simple and the cons can outweigh the pros of considering such a procedure. Without going into details, I've accepted surgery is not an option and am prepared to consider alternatives to managing my health.
Last week included a follow up mammogram after the routine exam in August revealed a 9 mm suspicious looking something or other. Given the literal dimensions of my other medical issues, I decided my precious energy was not going to be spent on a 9 mm, 'we're not sure what'. As it turned out, the phone call came yesterday giving the all clear to go back to regular two year testing. I tucked the news into my 'daily miracle folder' which is growing in relation to my faith and trust along with willingness to see God in all things.
Given the pace by which my life has slowed down, I have the time and space to observe some of the little things that, in the past, simply flashed by in a blur of activity. Noticing these things is almost like watching a flower bloom in slow motion, gently opening up of its own accord, or a caterpillar transforming into a butterfly without need of prying hands to help it along. Can it be that 'Little Miss Force It' (one of Mike's nicknames for me) is actually transforming into 'Little Miss Wonder' at how life can unfold so easily by simply being open and available to help coming our way?
Here are a few examples of how simple it gets and yet, how much joy comes to my heart from God's tiny daily miracles.
Last April, yes almost a year ago, I took photos of an 'ancient' nun - that's how they often refer to themselves and promised to send them to her. Just recently, prints in hand, ready to mail but alas, her name escaped me. Aha, a simple phone call to my dear friend Sister P.A. will rescue me from embarrassment. I walked in the door after mass to hear Mike on the phone, only to say it was none other than Sister P.A. checking in and checking up. Name obtained. Thank You God.
Over the last while a couple of issues have come up with my CPAP gear; that's the equipment I use to keep me breathing at night. Mental note made to call and make an appointment. In the midst of 'clutter puttering', crossing off cryptic notes on GOOS paper (good on one side), I turned it over to find a flyer from the CPAP folks with their phone number in my hand. Call and appointment made. Thank You God.
At a new weekly program at church small groups were colour coded. Being a 'matchy matchy' person by nature, and host of the yellow group meant I needed to find a yellow top. Ya, ya, cheesy but fun for me. As Mike and I were waltzing the aisles of Costco, a regular stop in the ladies clothing section revealed - you got it, a yellow top. Too funny. And yes, many fun comments were made about the top matching the tablecloths, flowers, napkins and candy. Thank You God.
Yesterday on our way out the door to Ash Wednesday Mass, Mike mentioned he wanted to stop at the funeral home. No problem, we both know this couple. A wonderful book highlighting the life of the deceased, was reviewed for us by our friend. As he turned the pages, it occurred to me, this is exactly what I've had in mind in terms of photo books for family members. No wonder it hadn't come together before now despite numerous attempts and failures. Feeling compelled to acknowledge her gift of creating the memorial for her Dad, she responded by excitedly offering to get together to work on books together. Now this is a true prayer answered. Thank You God.
The photo books are one of three major projects or goals I'd like to accomplish while my health remains stable. The others, while also works in progress, are somehow less pressing than creating a family history as complete as possible, to pass on. This stage of life and health brings into much sharper focus the importance of family and consideration of how we will leave stories told rather than untold, lives lived and challenges overcome. To leave for future generations, a glimmer of where and who they came from.
As we enter the season of Lent as Christians, it is a time of reflection to honour God through actions and acts of selfless service to others. As a younger person, I remember feeling extremely self conscious to spend the day with ashes smeared on my forehead without truly understanding the symbolism. Yesterday was very different, especially given today's global state of affairs. The response was surprisingly supportive as we commented that, in this country, we get to walk around with ashes on our forehead. As I make the effort to spend the next 40 days in prayer, fasting and giving to others, it's a time to consider my own relationship with God and how it plays out in my daily life.
The last while has been a time of relative calm, living life to the fullest and enjoying time with family and friends. I look forward to many more such times......
Take care and God Bless,
Hugs
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."
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