Tuesday, August 24, 2010
I burnt down a small forest - version 2
Saturday, August 21, 2010
For Lo
I can offer excuses, I suppose. I can tell you the truth: that the Gemzar #2 session yesterday was a little more difficult than the first. I had a bad reaction at the end of the session: started by realizing that I was suddenly very, very tired, then weird sensations in the roof of my mouth, running up through my head, waves of nausea, chills. Quite unpleasant. And it was the end of the day - luckily two nurses, the pharmacist and my oncologist were still around. It worked out, they worked it out. It's ok.
But I was scared. And cried. And was embarrassed. And reminded how utterly powerless I am in this situation. They say, over and over, how strong I am. I do not feel strong. I feel weak and broken and afraid that the already existing damage to my body, the cancer damage, the chemo damage, the damage that my liver must have undergone even in the last two non-chemo years from the support medications, that all this will make it impossible for me to tolerate the chemo that I need to survive.
So, I'm afraid. But what happens, what actually happens, one day at a time, is that I do not fail, I tend to flourish. This makes no sense to me, but it's true.
I've been in bed for the last thirty-some hours, recuperating, gaining strength, trying to get nourishment past my mouth which, for some reason is in a ridiculous amount of pain, even though The Doctor was not impressed with the appearance. And I have been enjoying myself for some of that time. Michael made smoothies. Lauren brought the first disc of the Nova Earth series. Lulu is utterly, utterly happy that she can just lie next to me on the bed, belly-up, sometimes between me and Lolo, for god's sake! I mean what could be better than that?
AND, she got to go squirreling with Lo today. And in my notebook, on 7/15/10 there is a note, "Hunter says that I said: 'Any day I take Lu squirreling is a successful day.'" Yes, I did say that, and going out with Lo counts.
And then, on top of this entirely successful day, complete with a dinner of chicken and baked potato and broccoli provided by, enjoyed with and cleaned up by my most kind, generous and loyal friend. I mean besides all that and stupid jokes and chocolate and coffee ice cream and clean laundry - I mean good lord! - besides all that, I read some of my poems since the diagnosis to Lo, and she picked two to put in tonight's blog and I picked one, and that's what I'm going to do. And, then, tomorrow, I'll resume that bird book. I promise. So, here goes:
I.
could you believe his
Monday, August 16, 2010
Too tired to title
There's too much noise and it's mostly mine
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Thank you for waiting
Thursday, August 12, 2010
This might have happened
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
For Carolin's morning
Monday, August 9, 2010
Here at the edge
Here at the edge of the
Where we sang
"Look at the birds
Look at the birds"
Lord, it's been a day
hasn't it?
There's not a dark-eyed
junco in sight
But how these fly
one two three
four or five
Keep counting
scattering upward
to the top of the
Eucalyptus
What are they
Flashes of white
Lord if we don't watch
it, it will be night
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Bleak middle part
vi.
I want to go
to my empty room
want to?
give us a hand up
oh sweet life
when I was dying
some said this
some said that
some said look at
the tops of the trees
when I'm dying
I'm tired
cry me a river
when I'm living
it's only a street
some say this
some say that
but oh sweet life
are we coming or going
some say this:
are we coming or going?
some say that
we are
Friday, August 6, 2010
extra added attraction
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Resuming Our Book of Birds
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Henry's birthday
For Henry
Oh, Henry!
If I am watching people passing
and you are swimming
and just beside me
that man reads a
book of conifers
for no good reason
and you left but lately
I can see you
glitter in the water
swimming for your birthday
sparkling for your decade
in a pool in
Santa Monica
one palm soft zephyr
blowing
Happy birthday, Henry.
Yesterday, August 3, I not only failed to print a poem here, I also forgot to acknowledge Henry's birthday, so I am interrupting the bird cycle to wish Henry, my youngest grandson, a happy birthday again! Not a decade here, but Sweet Sixteen! Happy, happy, Henry.
So, I'm interrupting the bird cycle to post a recycle! Hmmm. So be it. It makes me happy to think about these people, Henry and Nick, and their siblings Sam and Nora, whose lives have so unexpectedly, so fortuitously intertwined with, been part of, mine. I'm so happy that I got to be your grandmother, you guys, or, as three-year old Henry joyfully announced to a stranger one day when he was identifying me, "She's Mennie!, She's my STEP-grandmother!," that "step" clearly an honorific, a title of great esteem. One of my proudest moments.
Today was chemo day and I'm feeling it. Just Herceptin today, since we stopped the Xeloda, still I couldn't have done it without Lauren's kind and patient help. Tomorrow I call The Doctor and talk about what's next. Tonight I'm tired and scared, if I think about it, so I'm really grateful to have this blog and you guys to not think about it.
I hope you all have sweet sleep.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Sweet terra finch
I am not asking
(you for) much
just all or nothing
just your devisement
give me a flick
a promise
a gristle or profile
and take off
we like it here
when you've just left
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Sunday night
ii.
because they're light and dark
and inconsequential
and it's the right version
but not today
dan at the end of the world
and alison too
she's just baggy
and the way she feels
what a lot of rebar
it's nice at the
end of the world
pink keds
white dog
small face
look back at the pale day moon
what a lot of rebar
land of concrete chunks
land of the end of the world
flit
one woman scurrying
into the scree
scramble over scrabble
what black thing flew
across the path
I like it here
at the end of the world
Just enjoy this for tonight, if you can. It was written many months ago. The end of the world here is, of course, the wonderful Albany Bulb.
Tonight I am tired and discouraged and I'm thinking about people who aren't here.