In the depths...

Before my treatment the end of May, I read about recovery from radiation.  There would be a period of three days when I would be a danger to children, pets, pregnant women, and probably more folks because of being highly radioactive.  After that, there were other possible and/or likely after-effects.  These included nausea, diarrhea, headaches, appetite and weight loss, and the most likely of all, fatigue. Anyone having radiation treatments needs caretaker support for some weeks until they regain energy and a clear mind.

For an independent person, used to being self-sufficient and self-directed, being cared for is difficult.  Especially if it‘s family and close friends doing the caretaking.  They are not being paid, so you can’t boss them around.  They are doing it from love.  Part of me wanted to minimize my need for care so they could go about their normal lives and not have to be burdened by responsibility for helping me.  Truth be told, that is not the full picture.  At a deeper level, there was a part of me that was uncomfortable with all the evidence of love, which I wasn’t quite sure I deserved.  I came to see, as time went on, that an aspect of this journey was to accept and celebrate the goodness of others and let it heal my body and soul.

After the first days with few symptoms and a feeling of invulnerability, the fatigue hit.  Profound fatigue.  There were more than two weeks when I slept for 18-20 hours a day.  I’d get up, have breakfast, start to read, and fall asleep until lunch time.  And the same pattern until dinner.  Afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, I tried to stay awake.  Unsuccessfully.  No problem sleeping at night, however, except for the peculiar middle of the night episodes.  Many times, I would awaken near midnight, alert, and my mind would fix on something I seemed to need to remember.  For three nights in a row, it was the full name of the President of Turkey.  I could remember the last name, Erdogan, but could not bring up the first and middle names.  There was no logical reason why I should be concerned with his name, but it bothered me that I couldn’t recall it.  By the third night, I was so annoyed that I got up, opened the computer, and wrote it down so I could let go of that preoccupation.  (It’s Recep Tayyip Erdogan.)  I don’t really understand what that was all about.

During the entire month of June, I left the house only a few times, to give blood, go to church, and attend one meeting of the Grandparent Ambassadors.  At one point, experiencing “cabin fever” and feeling close to despair about the slow recovery process, I called a close friend to ask her to send an extra prayer for me.  She was on her way to take her daughter to camp, but she stopped and prayed with me over the phone, a prayer for healing and hope.  It reminded me that many were already praying, and that I was blessed to have so much support. By early July, the fatigue finally began to lift.  I was committed to healing so I could enjoy a family vacation at Ghost Ranch scheduled for the last week of July.  There were 24 of us traveling to New Mexico, 10 adults and 14 children including 3 babies.   Thanks to all that sleep and so much love, I was able to go.  We had a wonderful time enjoying nature and activities. Family rocks!

Resources that helped during this phase included mainly music and meditation.  Reading was difficult because of falling asleep all the time, although I read some prayers and scriptures which were familiar.  I especially reflected on this re-worded version of the 23^rd Psalm:

God is my constant companion.  There is no need that God cannot fulfill.

Whether God’s course for me points to the mountaintops of glorious ecstasy

or to the valleys of human suffering, God is by my side.  God is ever present with me.

God is close beside me when I tread the dark streets of danger,

And even when I flirt with death itself, God will not leave me.

When the pain is severe, God is near to comfort.

When the burden is heavy, God is there to lean upon.

When depression darkens my soul, God touches me with eternal joy.

When I feel empty and alone, God fills the aching vacuum with God’s power.

My security is in God’s promise to be near to me always,

and in the knowledge that God will never let me go.

Among the songs I listened to, Leonard Cohen was a favorite, especially “Sister of Mercy” and “Anthem”.  Another was Sara Thompsen’s “May the Longtime Sun”.  

Finally, I rediscovered a song by Pat Humphries I used to listen to, “Swimming to the Other Side.”  The lyrics are below.

We are living ‘neath the Great Big Dipper
We are washed by the very same rain
We are swimming in the stream together, some in power and some in pain
We can worship this ground we walk on, cherishing the beings that we live beside
Loving spirits will live forever, we're all swimming to the other side
I am alone and I am searching
hungering for answers in my time
I am balanced at the brink of wisdom
I'm impatient to receive a sign
I move forward with my senses open
Imperfection it be my crime
In humanity I will listen
We're all swimming to the other side

My longtime best friend/sister of the heart sent me an Apache blessing:
May the sun

bring you new energy by day.
May the moon

softly restore you by night.                                                                                                                     
May the rain

wash away your worries.
May the breeze

blow new strength into your being.
May you walk                                                                                                                              

gently through the world

and know its beauty all the days of your life.