Random Writings on Relationship
Five friends and I use prompts to write for four minutes a quote. Using several quotes, we write for an hour a week. This was one quote from today:
When I stopped seeing my mother with the eyes of a child, I saw the woman who helped me give birth to myself. ~ Nancy Friday
For those who have read my book Breaking Through Concrete: The Gift of Having Mentally Ill Parents, they know my relationship with my mother was difficult, at best. Grieving that I could not connect with her bi-polar moods, I loved her. While her gift of helping me to birth myself started earlier than I, or anyone, could be ready, and though helping me give birth to myself was a terribly painful process, my mother did accomplish that, for sure. Through not-so-loving ways, my mother’s darkness sparked the need and desire for me to love and be loved.
And due to neglect, my mother granted me self-sufficiency. By the time I was ten years old living in suburbia, I knew the local bus system and traveled wherever I wanted. Before I was out of grade school, I learned I could go anywhere, make new friends, and find my way. That has helped throughout my life.
For a few examples of self-sufficiency, I moved 500 miles away to attend college and worked to pay for text books and personal my expenses. My first post-college career took me over 1,100 miles from my family and friends. In my twenties, I designed an eleven country itinerary and traveled through Europe alone for eight weeks. Now that my daughter is grown, she and I travel to Europe in self-directed adventures for two weeks each year. In Europe, unexpected obstacles can and have shown up. Familiar with challenges, I have dealt with them efficiently and effectively. My mother’s gifts have made me grateful both for the life lessons and for the fact that those early experiences are in the past. HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY to every mother. May we all honor our mother for helping us give birth to ourself.
“Sometimes you need to talk with a two-year old just so you can understand life again.” ~ Unknown
A Facebook friend posted this quote with a picture. It depicted a little girl with sand soaked, muddy legs, arms, and clothes. Her head is between her sand soaked hands and arms and her head is on the wet sandy, muddy ground. Most of her blond wavy hair is touching the wet sandy beach.
Maybe no two-year old child ever has the concept of mud, of dirty hair, or dirty legs or dirty clothes. Everything is superseded by the desire for, and love of, experience. Certainly the two-year old Inner Child within each of us fears no discomfort if there is fun to be had.
One does not have to be just two years old to have this mindset. You can be any age. You just have to be free and willing to value full out experience over comfort.
Awhile ago, I was at sitting by the river walk on the Cincinnati side of the Ohio River. In a pretty yellow flowered short frock, a little girl of about five-years old, was hand-in-hand walking a tall man, two baby steps ahead of him at all times.
Suddenly, she led this man to a puddle. “Look, Daddy,” she squealed. Surely, he saw what was coming. Feeling tightness in my body, I cringed thinking that she was going to get her dress dirty and then feel uncomfortable with the water splashing all over her. At the same moment, I was surprised at my internal reaction. Clearly, I was projecting.
Watching the external and internal action unfold, I fully expected to see the dad divert the child’s direction and attention. No such thing occurred. Splashing in the pool of liquid with such gusto and glee, the young one smiled broadly, spread her arms wide, and circled in a dance.
Her dad did not resist, nor pull her away. After dancing she appeared to embrace every droplet of water by stomping at first with alternate feet, and then jumping with both feet. When done stomping, she kicked water like a football player kicking a ball in that rather large body of water for her little frame. Finally, she pranced away soaked, and satisfied.
Did this father have to sit her in the car with her wet shoes and wet dress? If so, he appeared unconcerned. Nor did he seem nearly as amused as I was in what just happened. He must have been accustomed to this self-expression from this beautiful, happy child.
I was riveted. It has been a long time since I had seen such joy achieved so quickly and naturally. Furthermore, it was free of monetary cost. And, I am sure it happened all the time with this tiny girl.
Asking myself some questions, I started wondering just when it was that I got so careful. When did I start trading in pure fun for comfort and ease? When was it that I gave up spontaneity due to an insignificant price such as the momentary uneasiness of wet clothes and wet shoes? For the five year-old girl, there appeared to be no discomfort.
Why was I so emotionally distant from this sort of happiness? Hadn’t I allowed my daughter daily as a child to follow her own expression with messiness? Yet, when was the last time I allowed that for myself? It’s not that I don’t take risks. I published a book I thought would be rejected. I traveled through 11 countries in Europe for eight weeks alone when I was 25. All the careers I had, I had to learn by the seat of my pants. For the nine years that I have been traveling to Europe with my daughter, I travel without travel agencies and do all the research myself. I take chances on renting cars and hotels, while knowing only small amounts of the language of each country. Yet, I wonder: What are the areas of my life where I am too cautious?
You can join me in considering this self inquiry for yourself:
Where have I cut corners to make life easier and not questioned what I was missing in self-expression?
How can I choose another option for my creativity to let loose like this five year old?
What do my self-inflicted walls consist of?
What can I do to knock down some of the walls I’ve erected to protect myself from open freedom and unadulterated joy?
What could occur if I let myself out of the comfort and safety that limits me?
What would it be like to prance into satisfaction?
How would that be expressed through me?
What would it look like?
Today I had CT scans with and without contrast. Met with Dr. B who had good news and bad news.
The bad news is that the tumor grew.
The good news is that it was a normal growth for two years since the last CT kidney scan. Dr. B now says it is expected to grow 2 to 3 mm a year. The details of the exact difference in size were not in yet from the radiologist report. It will be coming soon.
Dr. B is still not recommending surgery because the tumor is considered small. It has a 1% chance of spreading. Due to the location of the tumor, surgery would mean loss of kidney, not partial loss. If I lose a kidney, my heart has 50% chance of being deleteriously affected.
The result was disappointing. It indicates that all that I am doing is not working as well as I had hoped. Back to the reinventing a new plan of action. First, I am going to do something fun.
Since I couldn’t break my popcorn eating habit, I decided it was time to break myself of my microwave popcorn habit. I prepared by getting my popcorn directions from my friend,
All the ingredients were assembled. Along with the three test kernels and the oil, I put the lid on the pan. Pop, pop, pop. The three kernels were perfect. Ah, all is well. I must be good at this, I concluded. Then all was ready for the rest of kernels. I closed the lid. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, I was listening intently for a break in the popping, so I would know it was done.
Uh oh! Smoke poured out and I smelled the pot burning. I knew what to do. Instinctively, I moved it to another burner, turned off the heat and opened the lid.
That last instinct wasn’t so good. The popcorn leaped all over my old-fashioned stove. Popcorn slid under the iron grill and multiplied out to all four burners.
Instinct came in again as I grabbed a potholder and moved the pan to the table. Not a good idea. The popcorn kept popping over the pan and onto the floor. Before I knew it, I had stepped on wayward popcorn. As I placed a hot pad under the pan and onto the table, popcorn spread all over the table, bouncing as it went. Burning oil laden kernels even jumped to my arms and hands. Rubbing my skin, I had no time to deal with my injury.
A major mess, I shook my head as I reassessed the damage. My skin was on fire and the pot was burnt. The kitchen looked like a disaster zone with oil and popcorn on the stove, the floor and the table. There was not the slightest payoff. The popcorn was ruined.
What went wrong? At first, I didn’t want to know. I was sure I had followed the directions.
Of course you, dear reader, know by now where I went astray. Finally, I figured it out. I did not turn off the heat after the 3 kernels popped. A rude lesson. Still, after scrubbing the pot for two days and cleaning up the stove, floor and table, I promised myself I’d make my next batch correctly on the stove and not go back to microwave.
Basically, my philosophy is that life is a celebration. That’s why in 1993, I started my business “Rising To The Occasion” and became a Celebrations Consultant.
Even in difficult times, there is something to celebrate. If that seems foreign, then you can develop the frame of mind that creates that attitude.
Often people ask me how do I celebrate. That question comes from thinking that celebration is all rah-rah. Sometimes, celebration is simply honoring something by giving thanks quietly within.
Celebration can take almost as many forms as the occasions to celebrate. Most of the time, we don’t acknowledge what there is to celebrate. Presently, I am connected to Your Hidden Advantage, a company that serves busy people. My consulting service is part of Family Advantage: Celebrations. http://www.yourhiddenadvantage.com/family-advantage/celebrations-modules
WHAT I LOVE ABOUT AUTUMN IS …
… the kaleidoscope of trees dressed in gorgeous shades of orange, yellow, and red. Evergreens give just enough green to accent the deciduous tree colors this time of year.
Change surrounds me and affects all my senses. I love the varied shaped leaves and how they fall. Some flip over and spin in a somersault fashion, some plummet straight down like an Olympic diver, some swing and sway in a zigzag pattern, and some fall gently with no particular pattern.
The freshness of the air rejuvenates my sense of smell after the sultry summer. The shapes and colors of the pumpkins, the gourds and the corn appeal to my visual sense. Their textures stimulate my tactile sense. The strong, tangy smell of apples waft around me.
As in any relationship there are some slight mixed feelings. Changes occur in the sunlight coming into the house at different angles and the earlier evenings. I feel the loss of light and warmth. When I come to terms with less light and earlier evenings, I find ways I can enjoy it. For one, there is more snuggle time.
Taste buds change from light meals to heavier fare. Squash comes into my recipes, along with chili on the chilly nights. Hardy thick stew replaces thin soup.
Sounds change. Leaf blowers swap out lawn mowers. Crickets are quiet. Flies no longer buzz. The crackling of dry leaves under my feet tingle my senses. I’m ready to make a pile of leaves and jump in the center. Now who will join me?
Since the last ultrasound, I have been enjoying life to the hilt. In April, Ed and I moved to a great home with trees and flowers all around us. A family of deer frolic through our woods. Never far away, rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks visit our patio often, even when we are relaxing by the fountain in the fish pond.
Last week I had an ultrasound on my kidneys. The bad news is that it is not smaller. The good news is that it is no bigger than it was. Today I went to see urologist Dr. B, my second opinion doctor. Now he is telling me that surgery could be in the future for me sometime.
The reason? My parents were long-lived and it’s possible I could live to be 90. While happily that is a number of decades from now, there are no statistics on the number of years a kidney tumor can be safely watched. According to Dr. B, it has not happened before.
In the past, doctors took out any kidney that had a tumor. Now they try to take only the tumor and leave much of the kidney. There’s no statistics or research information on what will happen over the years for someone who is expected to live as long as I am. In my situation, there are not a lot of people that have been watched over a long time. So I suggested that I would be the first. That’s a valuable contribution. Right?
“Your possible years left are a whole career for a doctor. Some young doctor will be following you and have to pass you off to yet another doctor. And no doctor wants to do that.” Dr. B conjectured this as if that was a bad thing. It is not for me.
Dr. B said I should think about surgery in a few years. I reminded him of his assertion a year ago that I could live with the tumor. He answered that he is giving me the other side of it now. Hmm.
Reminding him that a year ago he claimed that patients with kidney surgery can die a decade earlier than the national statistics, Dr. B responded that it is true when one whole kidney is extracted. Given that he thinks he can take out my tumor despite it’s delicate position near the blood supply, he downplayed the danger. We did not get into the problem of my lungs. I’m still thinking about this turn of attitude. For now, we agreed things will stay the same.
Meanwhile, I will continue to live fully. Enjoying every minute, I am not slowing down.
What a week! On Monday February 28, I went to my pulmonologist who told me good news about a mysterious spot on my lungs. I’ve been seeing her, and getting pulmonary CT scans every four months. Since there are many reasons the spot could be nothing, I never worried.
The newest scan showed the spot looking less like a tumor and more like a cyst. It Is about 5 or 6 mm (half inch). So, I don’t have to get another chest CT for a year. That means I don’t have to see the pulmonologist for a year. Yea.
At the urologist-oncologist on Friday, March 4, Dr. B. reiterated my risks of having surgery:
1) The tumor is too near the blood supply, so there would be little chance to save any part of my kidney.
2) Losing a kidney can shorten my life by ten years due to stress on my heart.
3) Due to my compromised lungs, I might not survive the three- hour operation.
Inquiring specifically about the risk of not taking out the kidney, I asked Dr. B.: “What is the percentage of people with a small kidney tumor that experience cancer spreading outside the kidney compared to those whose cancer does not spread?” Dr. B replied that only 1 to 2% experience the cancer spreading and 98 -99% do not experience any spreading. He reminded me that it would be natural for the tumor to grow by 1 or 2 mm a year without the growth being a problem.
While I was at the office, Dr. B could not tell if there’s a size difference from 5 months ago when comparing the CT scan and the ultrasound. The radiologist report wasn’t in yet, though the pictures from the ultrasound were.
At 8 AM this morning, Dr. B. called me to say that the tumor appears to have gotten somewhat smaller. So, though it is still there for now, it is shrinking.
In six months, I will get another ultrasound and see Dr. B. Good news! Everyday, I imagine that tumor disappearing to nothing.
Thank you all for your good thoughts for me.
The healthiest response to life is joy. ~Deepak Chopra♥
My friendships strengthen me all the time. Friends have contributed greatly to me, especially during the early part of this health crisis. There have been so many mental, emotional, physical and spiritual gifts, I hope I am not forgetting any.
Right after I told the first few people, dear friends gave me a variety of fresh, healthful spices, quinoa, and garlic from Findlay Market. Another friend gave me wheat grass supplements, while another gave me mullein root.
Many friends gave me useful books, workbooks, tapes, CDs and DVDs on a variety of alternative healing arts. All made a difference, and many I use regularly and share with others.
One friend gave me a three months supply of Pro-Pax vitamins that energized me. Other friends did healing energy work for me.
My Qigong friend and teacher called often directing me to the work of William Bengston. Right away, I began doing an exercise from the articles and excerpts from Bengston’s book. Another friend directed me to Chunyi Lin’s books and CDs on Spring Forest Qigong. Many others sent me web information.
Some friends gave me comfort gifts, such as frequent phone calls, greeting cards, e-mails, e-cards, and other fun things such as a figurine Healing Angel.
Many people put me their group Prayer List. It is such a privilege to be on anyone’s Prayer List, and it is even more amazing to be prayed for by whole groups of healers, church members, and others whom I have never met. While not surprised, I am humbled by the overwhelming generosity that has flowed from so many.
Whether openly expressed or not, the outpouring of love is the wind at my back. No matter what I have had to face, I felt the fear and moved forward with joy knowing I have so many loving people around me here, across the country and on other continents. I am grateful to every one of you.
On my kitchen table, I put a small Mylar balloon with the word “Party.” It makes me happy to see it. When I conducted Blog Radio interviews, I moved the balloon to my office just to remind myself to keep the interview light.
In September I chose to get another CT Scan, so I went to new urologist. Knowing it would also be a second opinion, I thought for sure Dr. B., the head of UC’s Urology Department, would tell me the same thing that Dr. K. told me, in a word “surgery.”
Seeing my previous CT Scans and reports, Dr. B said that what he could see did not look like a tumor. He was not sure what it was.
While afraid to be elated, I still hoped it was not a tumor. Sending me for a 3 Dimensional CT Scan, Dr. B. personally called me later in the week to say that it was indeed a tumor.
Back in his office, he said that there was a 25% chance that the tumor was benign. He suggested that I could have a biopsy to determine whether it is benign or malignant. While still pondering this shocking piece of news about the possibility that the tumor could be benign, Dr. B. mentioned that the results of a biopsy are not always accurate. It’s then that I told him I am sure I want no part of any biopsy.
What followed, I had to ask him twice if I heard correctly. Dr. B. informed me that I could live with the tumor, even if it is malignant. It will likely grow a millimeter a year. He felt sure that I had the tumor for a very long time. Dr. B suggested I come back in a few months and get an ultrasound. My appointment is March 4.
Realizing that the tumor could grow faster than Dr. B thinks and it could move to other organs, I knew that whatever door I choose the lion could devour me. It could go badly if I waited and it could go badly if had a nephrectomy, or even a biopsy. Whatever I choose is a risk.
Since Dr. B was not suggesting surgery or not pushing the biopsy button, I chose for now to continue eating healthfully, taking supplements, practicing spirituality, feeling peaceful, and celebrating friends.
Many layers of emotions were happening at the same time. Some things were getting very serious – grocery shopping, preparing food, cooking food, cleaning up. They were never fun for me in the past. Now on a limited diet, my eating choices looked bleak. I didn’t like the taste of the things I could eat and I did miss the things I could not eat.
To make things worse, I had agreed to blood tests to determine food allergies. As it turns out, I am allergic to thirty healthful foods that I like. So at that point, I was deep into deprivation.
Dr. P’s philosophy was that any allergy indicates inflammation. If my body is fighting inflammation, it is not able to fight cancer. So I gave them up, along with all dairy, all grains (bread, pasta, rice, crackers), and all sugar with only a little fruit allowed under certain conditions.
At first, I did not look forward to meals. My only snacks were vegetables, or a few almonds. Many times a day I had to monitor myself to avoid getting cranky.
Ilona began visiting more often, coming to my rescue. With her support of me and her love of cooking, I realized that I could do this. Without Ilona I think I might have starved to death, or wanted to. Forever I am grateful to her. Ilona bought new recipe books, and obtained healthful recipes on http:www.epicurious.com
Added to my food choices are dozens of delicious healthy foods that I did not appreciate before. For that I am grateful. The scale kept going down and weight was sliding off me.
Also, I use many substitutions. Instead of noodles, I use either spaghetti squash or shaved zucchini. Instead of potato chips, I make kale chips. Instead of cows’ milk, I use unsweetend almond milk.
One downside was that the range, the oven, and the floor would need cleaning when Ilona and I would get done. All that extra preparation and clean up consumes a great deal of time. It reminded me why I had cut corners on cooking. After all, I am an entrepreneur preparing and delivering my relationship coaching business. I didn’t have time for all this.
It would make sense for me to slow down. Yet, with this background of uncertainty about my health, with the ambiguity about different doctors’ perspectives, and with upsets around loss of free time, all this sent me into overdrive. I took on even more. This wasn’t the first time this pattern occurred.
Before the cancer diagnosis, my plan was to launch my second book Breaking Through Concrete: The Gift of Having Mentally Ill Parents. So in the summer of transforming my food choices, I increased my workload by creating and marketing a Blog Talk Radio Program called The Spiritual Journey of Mental Illness. That required finding, enrolling, scheduling, researching, reminding, interviewing, and completing with experts. For each program, I educated myself on the particular topic within the mental illness field that each expert wanted to discuss. That was not all I needed to learn. I taught myself how to interview people, and how to use the technology.
The Blog Talk Radio Program was an effort to get a more compassionate understanding about mental illness out to the world before publishing my upcoming book. While the first interview went quite well, my friend Sheila told me that I didn’t even mention my book. We laughed together. It was fine. My book was not the main message I wanted people to get.