THE SCENIC ROUTE

     The route I take to the Cleveland Clinic is via the freeway.  For some reason, I love where it takes me. First to Chester, and then to Euclid instead of going through the pretty parts of Shaker Hts. Chester starts off a little scary and then before I know it, I am at the Clinic.  I always wonder what the people are like that live on this street.  Some of the buildings and houses are very old and some are brand new and I wonder who lives there.  I see many people waiting for buses and some are in wheelchairs.  In my short time in a wheelchair, I never had to take the bus.  I had rides wherever I went until I bought a car with hand controls.  Even when I got in a swim class, it was scheduled right in between the time my brother was going to work and my mother was coming home.  It was on their way to and from.  And then I bought a car with hand controls giving me so much independence.  I find it fascinating that one part of the city is so beautiful and then you turn a corner and you see some very poverty stricken areas.  The Clinic has a beautiful fountain in front of their main building on Euclid and then in other areas, some lovely gardens.  They also have an open air market with fresh vegetables.  I spend money to get valet parking because I am just too tired to walk from the garage.  I wonder if there are people like myself with a disability who can’t afford the ten dollars for valet.  I used to go to Metro Health on West 25^th and the area was not so beautiful.  When I waited for my meds, I had to take a ticket and then wait to see my name on a screen and then stand in line.  At times it took an hour.  Sometimes it was longer.  So many people there were on Medicaid.  Some people looked like they had issues that could have been treated earlier, but probably had no health care.  I had a little and probably had more money than these people, but at Metro they rate you according to what you make and you pay what you can afford.  I saw a man with tumors all over his legs and another man with part of his face gone.  I talked to some of the people while I waited.  There were lots of young single mothers.  I thought I would feel so fortunate, but I didn’t.  I just felt bad for everyone.  On Tuesday, I took a drive to go to the park and take a walk.  I made a different turn and ended up at the Polo Field not far from where I now live.  I told my friend Barbara that I would call her when I started walking.  When I pulled in, there was hardly anyone there. The field was empty and I walked on the bridle path.  It was so beautiful.  The sky was blue and had no clouds. The red and gold leaves hit it and literally sparkled.  As I talked to Barbara and walked, I couldn’t stop talking about the beauty surrounding me.  Whenever I take a walk, it is usually in the park and the paths are very enclosed.  But here the polo field was so big, and so vast and open.  It made me want to set up camp and live there.  I don’t know how I got so lucky to move to one of the prettiest areas in town and have the best hospital in the world treat me.  But I am grateful.

I LOVE TO SINGA

     When my nephews were very small, my brother told me about a video he rented of cartoons.  One was about an owl that wanted to be a jazz singer and his parents wanted him to be a classical musician.  It was an old cartoon and I love those so much.  My brother did the whole cartoon for me and every time his son, the youngest was crying, he'd start singing from the video.  "I love to singa.."  After I saw the video a bunch of times, I sang it with him when little Harry started crying.  Now, every time I think of this, I start laughing.  Mostly, the thought of my brother singing and dancing the whole cartoon makes me laugh.  He imitates the father with his German accent and then at the end the whole family at the end dancing and singing with the little owl.  My brother can imitate dancers in such a way that is priceless.  He knows enough to do a little dancing, and then he just fakes it.  The day we buried my mother, he was so mad at my dad that he kept imitating him saying, "Forgive me."  They had had an argument and then my father said, "Forgive me.", and I guess too many times.  My brother kept dancing around the room imitating my dad.  His favorite ending is to moon whoever he is mad at.  My father was in the next room and couldn't hear us or see us, so my brother mooned him. It's a beautiful thing.
     Hit the link below....
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I Love To Singa

LAST TREATMENT

   It’s over.  I am done.  After your last radiation treatment, there is a bell you can ring that is in the waiting room.  I told the valet's and one man that had been guiding patients wherever they needed to go that this was my last day.  He is a "redcoat" and we got to know one another over the course of six weeks.  His name is John and he said he would come down for the bell ringing.  After treatment, I got dressed and the two wonderful technicians that did most of my treatments came out.  Lisa and Dan.  They are so young and yet so aware of how delicate the situation is. John came down.  They gave me this to read aloud. 

       Surrounded here by family and friends,

       One Journey has ended, another begins,

       I ring this bell for treatments ended,

       I ring this bell for wounds now mended.

       For those who listen, my story I tell,

       I celebrate life by ringing this bell.

  I banged that sucker hard. 

   So many friends have taken me to appointments to see doctors and Paul, my housemate/landlord took me to two radiation treatments as well as different doctor appointments.  I had many offers from people to take me, but I was doing so well, I didn’t think I needed anyone around. I forgot about the emotional part.  If I were to do this again, I would have asked someone to come with me for this last day.  I could not hold back the tears.  Lisa cried as well.  I didn't imagine it would be so hard.  I truly missed my mother at that moment, and sort of felt the bell ringing was a shout out for both my parents who died of cancer.  Once again, letting them know I’d be ok.  I had to see the doctor afterwards.  The doctor is in a different building but easy to get to.  He checked the skin and I am burned, but I am fine.  A little sunburn is expected.  Some people have much more severe side effects.  They say I got away easy.  The elevators were not working, so I took the stairs, came out a different door, and walked a block to get my car.  It was so beautiful outside.  A delicious breeze and the sun was out.  I gave as many valets that I saw, a small tip to say thank you for all they have done.  They were so gracious.  They wished me luck and with that, I left.

 

TWO MORE

    I would think I’d be happy about no more radiation treatments.  I thought I would be thrilled.  But I’m not.  I am depressed.  I will miss my friends at the Cleveland Clinic.  Not only the professionals, but the redcoats that guide you wherever you need to go.  And the people I met while in the waiting room.  One couple is from England.  The wife is so sweet and she looks so scared.  And of course, the valet parking men.  I feel like I will just go back to my old ways.  The old eating habits, the old “not always exercising” habits.  And the worst, not looking for work in a more proactive way.  I do work when I can, but I have made a mess of things that way.  The jobs I have gotten in the last several years have taken it out of me physically or emotionally, and I either get fired or I quit.   I never took the real risks to get the “stuff” I want.  Too scared.  I am ashamed to be so old and so immature.  There are some real health issues that I deal with on a day to day basis, and I’m not talking about cancer.  And that makes working very difficult.  When I was diagnosed in December with cancer, I called a friend and through my sobbing I said, “I just need a break!”  She said, “You got a break Chris!  You got to walk after being paralyzed!”  I know she’s right, but today I don’t feel very good about me or my life.  One more treatment after today. Wish me luck.

STUFF

   Before I moved, I took two years and purged so many things.  My friend Linda helped a great deal.  (I also paid her to clean and do laundry)   First, she took things to a women's shelter.  Then later, she met a lady that sold whatever she found out of her van to make money.  The lady was young and on disability and this was a little supplement money.  Linda said she met her when she saw her waiting on the side of the road and needed gas for her van.  And Linda being Linda, stopped and helped her.  So much of what I gave away went to this woman.  I am sure I could have made a few bucks had I sold things, but I was too tired to worry about that.  It's good to know someone is being helped by my recycling.  Since my energy is so limited, I don't want more "stuff" to clean or think about.  It's easier for me.  But it does something else.  It frees up my mind.  It calms me down.  When my friend Angie was helping me pack, she looked down at a box of glasses and suggested I ask myself if I really wanted them.  I didn't.  If I had my druthers, I would have even less. Linda kept saying, "You're making room for something new."  I did.  A new home.  After I gave Linda the last of everything I could, I realized I gave something away that my mother gave me and I wanted it back.  Linda suggested to call this young lady.  I didn't.  I was heartbroken for a few hours, and then it simply passed.  When I gave Linda my mother's spaghetti bowl, I cried about that too.  It wasn't the original one from when I was a kid, but I still cried.  Then the crying just stopped and I felt fine.  I don't need kitchen utensils at this new place.  So many things were sold or given away to cousins after my mother and father died. Everyone was so appreciative of it all and wanted something to remind them of my mother.  They loved their Aunt Eva.  My friend Lona took a huge and cumbersome hall tree to our friend Jan.  Jan had the perfect place for it.  I got scared that one of my brothers wanted it.  They didn't.  In fact my brother Joe said, "Oh how great someone you know gets it and can use it!"I still have things from my parents. Things with great meaning.  Last week, my cousin Joyce asked if I wanted the love seat and chair that was once my mother's.  It never ends. 

JOE

     I am more than halfway through my treatments.  It was so much easier this week than last week.   Maybe I am just used to it, who knows.  I made it to yoga this week.  The doctor says the lightheaded feeling I get has nothing to do with the radiation.  He said that maybe I am just nervous.  Could be.  I am nervous.  I am nervous and excited about it being over. The young people doing my treatments are so kind.  I keep doing my silent affirmation.  "Every hand that touches me is a healing hand."  I am however, falling in love with the men that park my car.  I have conversations with Joe alot.  He is from the Philippines.  He has only been in this country for three years.  He is fifty, but looks thirty.  He told me he loves this country, and his wife is a nurse at the Cleveland Clinic.  While he talks, he pays very close attention at the people coming and going.  He runs everywhere.  Yesterday, he ran to help a woman who was on the ground.  She was getting into the passenger side of a car, and got out of her wheelchair and fell.  Joe ran to help as well as others.  They finally got her in.  One man, another valet, talks to me and asks how my treatment went.  When I give him a tiny tip for bringing my car to me, he is so gracious in accepting it.  Like I gave him a fifty.  One man talks about the weather and said yesterday, "I am complaining now, but in January, I will miss this heat."  Cleveland weather.  It's either winter or summer.  Joe told me that he sends money to his grandmother in the Philippines every month.  He said he understands we have healthcare issues in this country and financial issues, but it is so much better here than in his country.  He told me he has four children.  "I told my wife.  I will work any job to support my family."  I see so many patients come and go and I asked Joe about all he sees.  I see some people bald from chemo and some unable to hold their heads up while being wheeled to and from their cars.  I see so much.  I am so lucky that all I am having is a two minute session and I am done.  I'm not throwing up.  I'm not exhausted.  I walk out.  I eat my graham crackers to stay grounded, and I go home.  Easy.  My heart hurts for others.  Whenever Joe talks to me he touches my arm very lightly.  "Every hand that touches me is a healing hand."  That includes the valet.

THANK YOU

      I had a dream this morning right before I woke up that my old landlord found so many things in my apartment that were not cleaned or thrown out.  There was a potato that grew to be about eight pounds! It looked like a baby.  I was so happy to wake up in my double bed in my new home.  I never had a double bed my whole life.  My last place was quaint and cute and in the beginning, it was fine.  Plus, the added bonus of my cousin living downstairs, who I adore.  But as time went on, the rent got higher, my cousin moved out, and the place was sold a few times. This last landlord, who has owned the place for nine years, refused to do much, such as paint it.  Or change the carpeting that looked like it had been there since the seventies.  My favorite experience with him was when an outlet piece was coming out of the wall, and I told him.  So, he wadded up a paper towel, and wedged it between the outlet and the wall to keep it secure.  That was it.  That's how he fixed it.  When I showed him last year an area in the living room where the plaster was falling out of the wall, he said, "I'll get to that this summer."  So far, nothing.  A few years ago, he came into my bathroom when I wasn't home and there was water on the bathroom floor.  Not a lot.  Just a small amount from when I stepped out of the tub that morning.  He was so upset and said I must be leaving the bathtub running, and walk away letting the tub overflow.  I don't know what he was talking about.  The floor in the kitchen was crumbling and I do mean crumbling. Pieces were breaking off especially around the refrigerator. When I woke up this morning, I had such gratitude that I was out of there.  I giggle with delight when I see my living room with a new couch that people left here.  I marveled at the a kitchen, complete with a a built in oven, when I made banana bread the other night.  Yesterday, my landlord/roommate said, "Next week we'll get a board made to put under your mattress to make it firmer."  What I'm saying is, he GAVE me this beautiful bed and since I sink into the mattress, he's fixing it to make it firmer for me. The feeling I have is gratitude.  It's the same gratitude I had when I came home from the hospital, and knew I would walk again.  It's freedom.  I sat on the deck this morning thinking what a perfect place this is to heal.  When I drive out of his beautiful driveway and see his neighborhood, I look in the rear-view mirror and catch myself smiling..
Somebody pinch me.