Fire and Water

What a time this has been! Who ever could imagine all the twists and turns this year would take. You'd think a year ending in 7, a number with an almost right angle would not have so many twists and turns. One sharp left, maybe...but this has been more like a crazy 8.

This year began with nearly losing a kitty to an infection and a lost filling just before boarding a plane to visit Ma in England. I thought that was all the excitement 2017 had to offer. I thought I was done with major life events for the year.

Little did I know.

Then the diagnosis of Leukemia. Cue the screeching breaks.
I did a little reading and decided, somehow, we'd be done by summer and back to real life by fall.
Nope.
He needs a transplant.
I just kept doing math. Every setback was a new calculation. We'll be done by.....Christmas at least?
The final setback is really a set forward. We were scheduled for transplant in October, with a woman who is A positive blood group. We were so disappointed to find out our transplant nurse was over-zealous, and the Doctor hadn't settled yet; the woman hadn't even yet agreed!  He found a young man who he felt was a better match, and worthy of pursuing, worthy of another round of chemo to get all the ducks in a row. It was agonizing to watch the days slip away, to know Dom would be going through more chemo, to know our ideas of being done by 2018 were up in flames like tissue floating in the wind.

Up in flames.

Another twist in our journey. How does one manage cancer and evacuation? How does one come to grips with a parent losing everything in a fire whilst tending to an even more insidious fire, one called cancer that would seek to devour the whole body if left unchecked.

I spent last week bouncing all over the place, sifting through ashes for any sign of the things I'd lost. I've lost a year of my life, why not lose some odd antiques, my childhood stuffed animals, a pair of my grandfather's pajamas and my dad's favorite Miami Vice shirt? I'm sentimental that way. Those things represented something about the men that you would never even guess. Pajamas? Why pajamas? Because my Grandfather hung them on a red velvet rocking chair every morning, methodically, and they waited for him all day to change into them again at night. I don't know why, but it's one of my most vivid memories. And they're memories the fire cannot take away. I also lost all my journals through college. I'm thinking perhaps, as I pulled up just a spiral hinting at what once was, that those babies are probably better laid to rest. I cried when I pulled up bits of a vase I always admired that belonged to my mother. Most everything had disintegrated, but I could still see the painting on this vase. It was what I had hoped to find, and though it was broken, I could still identify it, and that was all I needed.

The fires were still making us nervous, even as most of them had been put out. There were trees still smoldering in the treeline behind our home. We had to call the fire station twice the week before we came back to the hospital, as we could see flames in the evening. Even as the fire was considered 99%-100% contained, those trees gave us pause.

And so we returned to the hospital for round seven a little beat up. A little worn out. A little emotional. (What is the reverse of hyperbole?)

On day one of this visit, we were given 3 possible dates put forward to the donor. And even those three dates were not a guarantee. There was a possibility none of the dates would work, and in that case, we'd need to continue rounds of chemo until a donation was possible. As many of you readers and followers know, the young man donor has come forward and agreed to the soonest possible date put forward for Dom's bone marrow transplant. We're beyond thrilled.

I had run out to move the car and explore for an hour or two. I was just grabbing bananas for Dom when he called and told me our transplant nurse wanted to meet. I hopped in the car actually peevish because we've been yanked around so much. What could she possibly have to say? She arrived to our room shortly after I did, and shared with us the wonderful news that we are scheduled for transplant. And she laughed because the donor let her know at the very end of a Friday, and there's so much work to do to prepare and it's Friday, so everyone was closing up shop, and there is so. much. to. do.

Dom's already had heart scans and EKG's just since 3:00 yesterday afternoon! They've told us all along that once we get scheduled, things will move fast, and they were not kidding!

When Katie left, Dom and I laughed and cried and hugged and I let everyone on social media know the good news. I had made a commitment to have dinner with our dear friend Edie who'd housed us during the evacuation, so I gave her a ring telling her I'd be just a few minutes late. (equals an hour)
I made sure Dominic was okay being left alone after such momentous news.

I got in my car and headed toward Edie's filled with joy, excitement and to be honest, apprehension. And then. And then. It rained.
The thing we'd been waiting for since the beginning of the fires. The thing we'd been waiting for since the beginning of our cancer journey, our personal ravaging fire. The thing that would bring relief. It rained on us yesterday people. It rained in every way possible.

And I? I'm latching on to that symbolism like a kid with a lolly pop.

There are things the fires cannot take from us. There are gifts the rains bring.
Holding it all in my heart, which is the only place to hold things tight.

The Not Bucket List

Have you ever thought about having a bucket list? Maybe you have already started one. Maybe you've checked everything off your list. I've been toying with the idea of a bucket list the past couple weeks. I don't know why, but it popped into my head recently that I ought to have one, and I've resisted the idea all at the same time. I've been trying to tease out my resistance, when part of the answer struck me. Via Facebook, naturally.
A friend of mine announced she'd been able to check something off her list. My first reaction to her choice was that it was certainly not on my list of things to do. But that's okay, that's why we all have our own bucket list. I'm glad she got to do one of the things she really wanted to do, even if it's not something I would make an effort to do. At the same time, given the same opportunity, I would take it, even if it's not one I would chase.
This is where my thoughts started to really percolate. If I had made a bucket list ten or twenty years ago, would I really care about the things I checked off my list that I had accomplished? Am I resistant to the list because I don't want to expend energy chasing something that won't matter in a decade? There are plenty of things I thought I wanted, and in retrospect, that is not me.
And, all of a sudden, the bucket list feels like life; and I begin to touch on my resistance. Life is nothing like I thought it would be as I imagined it 20 years ago. Not. a. single. thing. (I know, the period after every word to make a point is so tired right now, but I like it.) Part of my process as a spiritual being is to be able to embrace what is happening, and to let go of disappointment and expectation. It's useless anyway. I'm kind of glad I don't have a list of things I haven't done staring me in the face. Not to mention that I've done a lot of things I never thought I would. A thirty day challenge of Bikram Yoga would not have been on the list because I didn't even know about it even 5 years ago, and yet, I could put a check mark next to it. Calming down a gigantic angry horse also would not have been on the list, but I feel like a badass because I've done that. (My apologies to my more genteel readers, but I could not find any other word.) And, speaking of horses, riding a horse into the hills at the base of Petra in Jordan with a man who may or may not have had intentions of making me his tenth wife, also not on the list, but worthy of a check mark.
I like the idea of a bucket list. I like the idea that if we visualize goals, they are more likely to come about. I also like the idea that life is unfolding, and though it's not like I would have scripted it, it's been an adventure I wouldn't trade. I still may sit down and think about what I'd like to accomplish or see or do. It's a delicate balance: chasing dreams and living with hands and heart open wide. I haven't totally released the idea of a bucket list; perhaps, if I had one, it would contain only one item. For now I'm appreciating the free form life I'm living and tending my wide open heart. Where are you?