That's the Stuff!

That's the stuff is a slang term which lately seems to have been replaced by "that's the s*#t". I never cared much for this vulgarization of pleasant things. It can be used to refer to a great meal (eew!), a beer, great sex, or what ever seems to float your boat at the time. I am not apt to use the term, however, I recently had my own experience, where it seems appropriate (literally!)

Last week I got a stomach bug. Nothing big, just the run of the mill bug that most of us have experienced from time to time. It came with the cramping, aching and fever and of course diarrhea that such bugs carry. I was completely immersed in being sick for a few days, when it hit me, I hadn't once thought of cancer in that time. Odd that illness can take your mind off of well....illness, but it can. It actually became a welcome relief. No, I can't say that I was actually enjoying getting up every 45 minutes or so to run to the bathroom, but it was a break from my past nine months where everything out of the ordinary must in some way be related to cancer. And for the most part it is because almost everything is. I still suffer from exhaustion, a common side effect of chemo and radiation. The swelling and inflammation which is a side effect related to having my lymph nodes removed and radiated. Lack of appetite, etc. Almost everyday brings with it some cancer related gift.

In survival and recovery it is important to move beyond the illness. Our thoughts must be aligned with health and wellness in order to bring about the desired result. So this little bug brought with it a gift. I got to be a normal person for a week! No cancer, just frequent trips to the restroom. What a great trade off. Yes my butt hurt, but nothing like surgery. I was whiney and week and wanted to be waited on, but never once thought of my partner Ken as my caretaker. He was once again just my partner having to put up with me acting like a baby (yes, I am a typical guy when I get sick. I want my mommy, a nurse and maybe a hand full of old movies thrown in). There was no education I had to involve myself in. I already knew how to handle this. Plenty of rest, fluids and little food. Of course Ken kept telling me that I brought this on myself by not washing my vegetables properly, but I just tuned him out and was content with my illness. By the time the thing had run it's course a week had flown by. A week of no cancer. Just being a typical guy! Now if that isn't the shit, I don't know what is!

What a World

One of the best parts of visiting my Dad is the drive both to and from the airport. It's one of the rare times I get him all to my self. In spite of the fact that he isn't usually much of a talker there is rarely silence on our drives. We discuss politics, our family and one of my favorites, my dads stories of growing up in New Mexico. This weeks trip was no different. As we drove past a horse farm and I made the observation that on of the horses was on its side and wondered out loud if it was dead, dad assured me that for some reason in Texas this was common. He wasn't sure if it was the breed of the horse or what, but it was a common sighting even in winter. This of course brought up the conversation of the horses he had as a child on the farm. He mentioned that some of their horses were used as a team to pull a wagon. I listened but wondered in my head if my dad as a child ever imaged that he would be driving his own son to the airport to fly several hundred miles back home? As a child did he know that his world was about to make a major change? His world has probably made the most changes of any generation in recent memory. Once the industrial revolution hit, there was no stopping the change. His family farm would soon be sold so that they could move into town. His parents would open a restaurant, eventually close that and move to California. He lived through the great depression and served in the Korean War.

That's a lot of change especially when I compare my world to his and yet I see history repeating. We are currently in a depression yet noting like the one that grabbed and shook my fathers generation. Our revolution was technological. I have read about people protesting the power poles being strung across the nation the way people have protested nuclear energy. Amazing is all of this is the vast majority of people have not lost their faith. Most believe in God. And yes we struggle with it diagnose it, subject it to science and yet come out of all of that believing in God. I watched a show on the cosmos and listened as one of the most brilliant minds of our time, Stephen Hawking, proclaim that because there was no time prior to the big bang, there could be no God. My first thought wasn't wow, I guess that there is no God, it was that Stephen Hawking does not understand the nature of God. The other amazing thing is that I doubt if Mr. Hawking's findings  would change anyone's mind who believes in God. For those who have been  touched and changed that is the one thing we most likely won't give up.

I am not speaking of religion, but in our own personal spirituality. As a gay man, I have pushed back against much of organized religion in my life. They had rejected me so I would reject them. In spite of that in just about every place in the world I have visited my first stops were to Cathedrals and Temples. I can tell you I have a great love of architecture, but this was always something more. I find peace in the house of God. I commune with the Divine in the house of God. I find it shocking that so many people visit a church and manage to find hate. To reject their fellow humans. Yet this behavior has been going on for centuries. The belief that one religion is superior to another. That one country is superior to another. That piece of the earth is holier than another.  While I was in Texas, my Dad's Presybeterian minister spoke about the miracle of the loaves and the fishes. He used the metaphysical explanation that it was not a miracle where Jesus actually turned the meal for five into a meal for five thousand, it was a story about sharing. Because of a willingness to give what little he and the disciples had, it started a ground swell of sharing among the crowd. I was brought to tears thinking what a world: A christian and be a metaphysician! To take it farther we do live in an amazing world at an amazing time. A world where people who have done bad things can also do amazing good. A world where there is so much going on, that it should be a crime for anyone to become bored. A beautiful world, where people care about each other and the environment. A world where I can walk into a machine and fly several hundred miles and get to spend four hours in another machine driving down paved roads listening to stories told by the man responsible for my existence! What a World indeed!

The Search

It seems to me that we are all searching for something. Some of us have figured out what that something is while others of us have not. I have lived the vast majority of my life feeling like I was on the outside looking in. An observer if you will, and a willing one at that. While for some outsiders, there is a sense of longing to get to the inside, I have been content to hold my position, nose pressed to the window and wait. The problem is that I never knew what I was waiting for. Some people think that this may be a sad way to live, but it has served me well. During my career as an apparel buyer, it was because of my being an outsider, that I could so clearly see what people wanted next and stay ahead of the trends. In my career as a manager it has enabled me to read people quickly, and make good hiring choices.

Since being diagnosed, I have realized that my life is not about my career, however. I no longer receive my identity, by what I do, and rather by who I am. This shift has been subtle and yet a quick one. One of the gifts of the shift is an amazing increase in self confidence. Being my job, I was never good enough, never "ahead" enough. Being me, I am strong and can take on anything that life throws at me. I can also relax more now. Before, if I had a day off, I couldn't really enjoy it because I knew something somewhere was about to go wrong. I'd call work just to check in. I look back and see a man who didn't trust himself and therefore could not trust the world. Today, I trust that God has it all handled, so I don't have to. That in itself is a relaxing thought.

Yesterday I returned home from seeing my Dad in Texas for the second time in a month. This time I was able to stay longer which was a good thing. It feels like I have a lot of years to make up for. Just sitting around and talking, I became painfully aware of what I've missed over the years. I look back and think how many times I couldn't go back to see him because I was "blocked" during the holidays or had a set up that prevented me spending early spring with him. On and on... I listened to my Dad and Doris talking about holidays past, visits and vacations that I was not a part of. I realized with a bit of shock that I did not have cherished memories of the times I spent at work while they were gathered at the Thanksgiving table. What was it that I was searching for back then. I clearly didn't want to "fit in". I didn't want to be a family. Now I realize that I am part of a family, we all are. Sure we can choose to reject it, but that doesn't make it go away. Those people are all still there, building memories. Going home to see my Dad, it surprises me just how easy it is to be part of a family. You just have to show up. Being willing to share makes the experience even richer. Listening makes it even more so.

We search and search only to find sometimes, that we are enough, just being who we are. Home is not a destination, it is a place in our hearts. Granted sometimes that place in our hearts has a destination attached to it. For some it has a time line attached to it. Yet it seems, once again by observation, that for the truly free there are no strings attached.

Cancer: A Love Story

That's an odd title, none the less it is the title of my story. Through this journey I have learned to love myself, but that is not what I am writing about today. Today, the love that I am talking about is my love for my partner, Ken. Prior to my diagnosis I used to question our relationship...a lot! Could we make it? Would we make it? We argue and bicker so often. I make him crazy, then he makes me crazy. If it's not the finances, it's the way I put the dishes into the dishwasher. In thinking about it now, it sounds a awful lot like marriage. During my ordeal with cancer, those things revealed themselves to be petty. In fact I came to understand my doubts about our relationship were completely unfounded. Ken in short has been a rock.

While I was dealing with the physical aspects of the disease he was busy arming himself with education to ensure us both a long life. He has studied nutrition, psychology and God only knows what else about cancer to make sure that I am here and so is he. Early on, prior to my surgery, there was a day that I came to trust in us. I had always trusted God and myself. I knew that I would beat cancer, but this was the day that I knew I wouldn't have to do it alone. I've written about it before, so I apologise if I am repeating myself. I was at UCLA Medical Center oncology division of the dental center. I was told that I needed to have four teeth removed to protect me in the future. Being rather vain, that is the last thing I wanted. I even remember writing on Facebook that I pity the fool that wants to pull my teeth. At listing to the reasoning Ken pleaded with me to listen to the dentist and have the procedure done. At first I was shocked and felt betrayed. How could he act like this when he knew how important it was to me to keep my teeth? I listened as he broke it all down into bitchy cliff notes. "If you don't", he said, "and your teeth become infected, they can't pull them because you won't have sufficient blood supply in your jaw. Then infection sets in and the only thing left to do will be remove it and replace it using a bone from your leg! Is that what you want"? It felt like I was 5 and being yelled at. I caved. I gave in to logic. I got mad and blurted out "Fine, pull them". I was told that I may have to come back. I informed the dentist that if he wanted the teeth, he would need to do it now, I wouldn't be coming back! And that is what happened. I walked into the lobby, my jaw still numb from the procedure, holding bloody gauze in my mouth to see Ken slumped in the corner of the lobby with his head down. When I approached him, he raised his head and I saw the tears for the first time since I had been diagnosed. "Thank you for doing all of this to stay with me" The words were simple and quite. But they were powerful!
I understood in an instant that he had believed in us all along. He yelled about the way I put dishes into the dishwasher because he wanted us to have clean dishes. He wanted there to be an us and some of my beliefs in self healing were terrifying to him in terms of our future. Maybe I could heal myself, but he wanted to make sure I was healed what ever it took! For us. Because he saw a future for us. So bring on the chemo and radiation. Get the cancer out of my body! I became far more compliant that day, and in his own way so did he. To this day he is receiving acupuncture for his insomnia and I'm happy to say it is working. We are both learning how it give in to each others beliefs.

While my cancer was being removed, there was another battle occurring in our state. The battle for same sex marriage. I never really planned on being married. I did feel that if someone wanted it they should have the legal right, to it, however. But now, I am bothered by the ruling, not because I want to be married so badly, but when I look at Ken, I see this amazing man, who has not been just a great mate, but a care taker. If there was ever someone in this world who deserved a marriage proposal it is him. And yes, we could move to a state that has made it legal, but is that really the point? And yes, we are Registered Domestic Partners but it's not the same. We have a certificate from the state that sounds like we have gone into a housekeeping business together. He has been a model husband and even if he turns me down, I want him to have the right of me asking for his legal hand in marriage. I have never been much of an activist, but surviving cancer certainly changes things. One thing is certain to me, no matter what the law says love will endure.

The Quiet

I love the quiet, especially of the early morning. It is said that early morning is the best time to meditate and I believe it, everything feels so gentle, so calm. Walking along the morning dew clings to your skin like a kiss that holds the promise for a sacred day. It's amazing how the world feels before everyone wakes up. Living in California, I can never take this time for granted. The noise will begin as the first neighbors wake up around 5:30 and begin their day, cars start to roll and just in the distance the freeway comes alive. But now before the dawn it's like being at home when the electricity goes out and you suddenly realize how much noise the refrigerator makes.

I love quiet places. This brought about my love for New Orleans. By reputation you would expect there to be twenty four hour noise, but get just a few blocks away from the tourists and the quite of the neighborhoods engulf you. I have never figured out if the acoustics of the city were brought about by the architecture or the heavy moisture in the air or what, but for me it is one of my quite places. When there I love walking along the banks of the Mississippi River. I've always said that my body lives in California, but my soul lives there. But in really thinking about it I tend to thrive in any quite place and yet I love living in a city. I don't know what that says about me.

I love driving in the quiet. I remember sneaking out as a teenager and riding my motorcycle around the quiet city. Today, I drive with my radio and music off when I am alone. Just listening to the sound of my tires on the road, humming a quite song.

The quiet seems to intensify our connection to the divine. My life feels like a prayer in the early morning. Each action is a communication with God, that isn't the same later in the day even if the actions are exactly the same. Even doing on the dishes takes on a different spirit before the sun comes up. And the way that we are gentle with ourselves in the morning is sublime. Speaking in a whisper to the dogs even if no one else is at home. I worked for Starbucks Coffee Company as a manager for years and always felt lucky to open my store. I hated it when corporate mandates insisted that managers only work 9-5 slots. I fell out of the habit of waking up at 3:30 am and I have to say that I have missed it. Of course there is more than me in my house to take into consideration when it comes to being up at this hour so I will cherish my alone time this morning, knowing that it rarely happens around here.

Hello Old Friend!

Last night I was visited in my dreams by a familiar young man, it wasn't until I awoke around seven am and curled up to the dogs going over the dream in my head that I realized who he was. It was me around 14. It took awhile to realize that the sad eyes and skin made red by acne were mine, but there he was in my dream begging to be noticed. I suspect it was even more than that. You see that little guy went through alot.  He moved in with his dad and new step mother to find his world turned upside down. His fathers new wife smelled the weakness and effeminate behavior and turned her sights into if not straighting him out, at least making him appear to fit in. And fit in in Texas no less. This was a far cry from fitting in California, where it seemed easy to disappear. The spotlight of a new school and being the new kid had the same intensity as the Texas sun.

He had received lessons in how to walk, was forbidden to join choir or drama class and shoved into a pair of Wranglers for his first day of school, where no matter what he did he did not fit in but who cared because he did not fit in at home either. That little guy just dug deeper and deeper into his books, looking for a way out. I admire him because other teens may have considered another more permanent way out. He assumed that one day all of this would end. He faced verbal and mental abuse by his step mother and his father said nothing. She spied on him and finally forced him out of the closet. His father said nothing. This little guy had so many hopes and dreams for his life, this was surly a mistake, but it went on until he was abandoned by his father in a rent by the week apartment. In fairness to his dad (who is also mine), the original plan was that they were to move out together, but his father ended up trying to reconcile with his wife one last time and he apparently did not fit into that plan. He struggled with working and school, where he was failing miserably, and finally gave up. He called his mom and within 24 hours was on a plane headed for home.

Still no direction and no great ideas, he launched a plan. To become someone else entirely. Fueled by the anger at his father he decided much like any actor would to take on a new name. A stage name of sorts, but this was for a grander stage. The worlds stage. That is where this plucky little guy surrendered his life and mine began. I entered the Navy using my new name (which then became legal) and vowed never to look back. I didn't for quite awhile. Two years into my stint, I was reconciled with my father thanks to my new step mother, Doris. Still I tended not to look back. I had forgiven my dad and hoped that he had forgiven me (hey I was far from perfect). I then began the process of stumbling through this life. Oddly enough, and with much help of many of the amazing people who entered my life, I came to like myself. Then I came to love myself. I came to understand my spiritual side. I also forgot about loving myself and forgot about my spiritual side at some point.

Thanks to cancer I was reacquainted with both. Maybe the dream was brought on by the fact that friends from my past have been popping up lately. My old boss, Donn, My old assistant Lupita and most importantly to me my dear friend Blake.  And while I haven't actually seen or spoken to any of them just having them in my on line life is a comfort and a bit hope for me. But back to my younger self. Somehow I came to love myself, but never did love him. Perhaps he believed that he didn't deserve it. That maybe he wasn't lovable. What I was left with upon waking up this morning is that he is here and very much alive within me. He is also lonely and broken and in need of love. Some 30 years after his giving up his life for mine I finally am realizing that that is just not the way it works. His wounds are my wounds and in spite of the fact that I have come to love myself, I am realizing that I have not come to love all of myself. I suppose that some of this will start off with some forgiveness. In many ways he gave me a clean slate for the future and I have to look at what I have done with it and take responsibility for it, both the good and the bad. And most importantly I need to be grateful that this little guy was so remarkably strong. In spite of the sadness and wounds there was still a smile behind his eyes that carried on into my life. I also need to merge both lives and realize that what I am today is because of him. It strikes me as ironic that I was never confronted by him until after I faced cancer and learned that I was strong enough to face anything. Maybe the lesson here is that I am as strong as he is and always was.

Never Forget

While discussing diet, I am frequently reminded by my partner Ken that statistically I am at a greater risk of repeat cancer and need to eat correctly. I hate statistics and sometimes I just want a donut. But like it or not I am tasked with never forgetting my personal past with cancer. Every day I continue to feel better. I am exercising more and feel strong enough to return to work, and yet I am warned by my doctor that I am still anemic from the radiation and should just let things progress in their own time. I listen to him and in the back of my mind think, I'm gonna do what I want to anyway. Of course Ken was at that appointment and ALWAYS has something to say about it. So I am not returning to work. I am trying to stay busy at home.

Did I ever mention that I hate housework? Well I do. It wasn't until I was at my dad's spotless house that my own home even felt dirty. OK in the grand scheme of things I wouldn't qualify for some reality show on dirty homes, but after seeing near perfection, I have to admit that I was a little jealous. So now I vacuum more, scrub the bathroom more and appreciate my clean home more. I also see more and more dust and dust bunnies under things that I would have never noticed before. It's like my mind is taking out all of it's frustration with my situation on the house. Loose cords bother me, spider webs bother me and suddenly there is just not enough hours in the day to tackle it all. The bottom line here is that I need to go back to work or I might crack up and become OCD, that or open my own maid service.

Maybe I just need to find a distraction, yet I am reminded not to get too distracted. Don't forget to eat correctly and take my vitamins. In some ways it is like being 14 all over again (except for the cleaning). I feel like it is time to move forward but am being held back by the tether that is or rather was my cancer. And no I don't want a repeat performance, but it would be nice to feel like I could kick up my heals now and again. I guess the bottom line is this: everything in moderation. That seems to work in every situation and hopefully it will work in mine. Now while Ken is not home I have a some rugs to vacuum and a donut with my name on it to eat.