I had a little bit of cancer at Christmas time. They say they got it all, but my dreams still worry.
In
last night's dream, my stitches were growing out of my chest and belly
like unruly old-man grey hairs. I was trying to tweeze them, but they
were thin and wiry and moving like seaweed under the waves.
At
the roots, where they crept through my skin, were tiny rivers of blood
and Jon was angry with me for making them fester. I tried to cover the
sites with bandages, but the stitches weaved their way up through the
gauze, along with tiny patches of blood.
The
thing is, it's been almost 4 months, but my stitches are really still
in there. They were supposed to dissolve, but my body always spits them
out for years after any incision. I know this because these last two
surgeries make 12 spots where they have cut at me. And when I run my
hand over the scars, they are lumpy and pokey and sore.
But
they really did say they got it all...at least for now. And I have been
living, really living as deeply and honestly and creatively and
thankfully as much as I possibly can.
My
mind moves slower, stays longer to meditate on the gifts that surround
me. Jasmine's cheek. I touch it with the back of my hand and it is still
as soft as when she was a baby.
Music is ridiculously soothing, seeping into every part of me and making me whole.
Fresh bread and butter and strawberry jam have changed my life.
And
oh how I wish you could see the rain falling on the purple pansies on
my porch right now, they're wiggling like happy puppies in a garden hose
as they drink in the water.
People
say, "it's the little things" and it's the truest of truths. It can be
that the little thing is the worst of all things, a little bit of
cancer. It could be the end of the world, and somewhere inside me, when I
try to sleep, my body likes to tell me that.
But
it's morning now, and joy comes in the morning. And I am awake now and
in charge of my thoughts. And for this moment, I am thinking of my warm
cup of coffee and my husband's silly morning hair and the rain outside
that our dry land so desperately needs.
