Sunday, October 31, 2010

Spooky stuff


It's Halloween -- and "Reformation Day," for you Lutherans -- so here's hoping you have a good one! I've had my pumpkin for a couple of weeks now, sitting on the front porch, and so far (I haven't checked today) no one's stolen it or smashed it in the street, so yay for crime-free Ballwin, Mo.! I'll be carving it later today, and putting in the candle, and getting the candy ready for the evening's spooky visitors. (And pouring a glass of wine for me.)

Hopefully, we'll have more than the FIVE kids we had last year ... (In previous years, we've had as many as 80! But lately the houses around mine don't participate -- instead, they turn their lights -- and hearts -- off. Sigh. So I guess that doesn't draw too many kids.)

Anyway, this year I am MAKING the trick-or-treaters tell me a joke (heck, WE had to do it when I was growing up!), but I will refrain from being a mean old witch. Instead, if they don't have a joke I'm going to GIVE them one that they can use all night, and maybe even next year! Here's a sample: "Why did the ghost go to the bar?" Answer: "To get BOOOOOZE!" Cute, huh? Or maybe it's too crude for little kids. Don't worry, I've got others. "Do zombies eat popcorn with their fingers?" Answer: "No, they eat their fingers separately!"

OK, OK, I'll keep my day job.

In keeping with the spirit of Halloween, I've been reading this sort of spooky book: Visions, Trips, and Crowded Rooms -- Who and What You See Before You Die, by David Kessler, who actually worked with Elisabeth Kubler Ross (no relation), the dying/grief expert.

In the book, Kessler interviews lots of people -- medical professionals, such as doctors and nurses, as well as regular folks. All of them, however, have witnessed so-called "death-bed visions." That means they were in the room with a dying person who saw -- and conversed with -- a dead relative or friend. (Only the dying person can see and talk to this "vision." But those who have been there say this doesn't seem to be induced by drugs -- they were convinced the dying person actually saw one or more dead people. Right there. In the room.)

Often it's the dying person's deceased mother who comes to visit, and apparently accompany her child to heaven. After this experience, the dying person usually dies within hours or days. And they die happy because their dead loved one has reassured them that the afterlife is simply wonderful and death is nothing to fear. Wow.

Sometimes there's a whole roomful of dead people visiting. A friend told me that her dying grandmother saw her dead sister, mother, the friend's brother, and said "they brought the babies" -- this dying grandmother had lost three babies in infancy many years before. Whoa.

The author, Kessler, says he was in the room when his father was dying. His father had been depressed and sad about his situation until he had a visit from his dead wife -- Kessler's mother -- who transformed his demeanor "from a hopeless dying man with only death in front of him to a hopeful man who was going to be reunited with the love of his life." Kessler says these experiences challenge the idea that we die alone, and asks, "What if the journey at the end of life is not a lonely path into eternity, but rather an incredible reunion with those we have loved and lost?"

I'm really not obsessed with death. But I've gotta say, this book is a pretty fascinating look at life and death, and the things that are still a mystery to us.

Until next time ...
P

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Fraidy-cat


So, what is my problem? Every time I have a check-up with one of my cancer doctors, I get all nervous about it. Like, days ahead of time.

Maybe it's normal for someone who had Stage 3 cancer like me, to never quite feel like they're out of the woods. For good.

Or, maybe I'm just a weenie who remembers what it was like every time I came to the Siteman Center for my chemo. It really wasn't horrible, but it wasn't exactly fun, either. It was something I had to do in order to enjoy the cancer-free days I'm enjoying now. (OK, full disclosure: Sometimes it was fun!)

But, whenever anything reminds me of it, I get this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I guess that feeling was with me for an entire year while I was going through chemo and radiation, surgery, and more chemo. The feeling that I don't know what lies ahead.

My husband, Jim, made a music CD for me back when I was going through treatment. At the time, I enjoyed it a lot. The other day I tried to listen to it in my car and it brought back all of the angst I felt back then. Very unsettling. I had to take it out of the CD player. Don't know if I'll ever listen to it again.

Anyway, all of this is to say that today I had a check-up with Dr. K, my cancer maintenance guy. Everything is fine, truly, but boy was I nervous! It's just that I'm enjoying the heck out of being "normal." And I don't want to go back to being a "cancer patient."

I asked him about curing cancer in someone like me. Does he have other patients who've made it long-term? He smiled and said, "Lots of them. Colorectal cancer is very curable." Ahh. Just what I wanted to hear, doc.

Until next time ...
P

P.S. I decided to post a photo of the scar on my wrist, just because.