On the Eve of my trip to City of Hope

I've been alone most of the day.  Peter has yet another cold.  Number 3 in the last month or so?  It is indicative of the stress we've both been under. So I'll travel to City of Hope by myself tomorrow, check in and wake up early Monday for the telltale tests that will determine my next steps.  

I love the analogy of fog.  It rolls in, covering everything. You can yell at it, blow at it, ask it politely to go away.  But there it hangs,  indifferent to your cries.  My brother, Greg, was recently in white out conditions, driving through a snow storm in Wisconsin.  Big rigs were piling up in the median on that icy day.   He couldn't see ahead even a foot.  Fortunately he came out OK.

I'm more at ease with the fog of this Leukemia journey --not knowing what's around the next corner, or the "black ice" of unexpected twists and turns.  But I must say, this week was tough.  I was skidding all over the place!  I woke up at 2 p.m. this morning in yet another atrial fibrillation, making it a total of 3 for the week. In the 7 years I've had this condition, I've never had THREE in one week.  

For some reason, I get these Afibs in a severe form and am unable to walk or eat much.  They are completely debilitating.  This, on top of the weakness from 3 plus years of chemo treatment, really did me in!  It pushed me on every level, much more than the Leukemia itself.  

I came across one of T.S. Eliot's poems today.  At first reading, I seemed not to receive the full inspiration he must have intended.  On deeper reading, Ah, yes....In the darkness shall be the light.  Hoping, loving without expectation, without directing, subtly, the outcome we desire, while at the same time remaining in the Light, strong in love, faith and hope.  Quite a paradox. 

   "I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope, 

   for hope would be hope for the wrong thing. 

   And wait without love. For love would be love, 

   of the wrong thing. 

   Yet there is faith. 

   But the faith and the hope and the love, are all in the waiting. 

   And the darkness shall be the light 

   and the stillness the dancing."

In stillness, the dancing.   To get to that place, really get there, what an experience of Grace.  Forced to stay in bed several days this week (Afib) when my spirit so wanted to do even simple physical things (it's even hard to paint when in an A-fib) , sitting for hours in the ER hoping they could trigger my heart into it's normal rhythm, wondering if the blast cells are back  -- all of this, unfurls my fingers from the driving wheel of life and into that fog of unknowing, a  place of silence where there is peace.  I'm sure we all have some version of this journey towards peace and stillness in our own lives. Some roads we travel are steep indeed. 

 I can only pray for the perseverance to continue the "waiting" that T.S. Eliot refers to, with graciousness and humility. 

To be continued next week.  I'll let you know when the actual transplant will, hopefully, take place so those of you who are free and wish to can visualize my body accepting the donor's bone marrow!

With love and Gratitude,

Heidi

P.S.  Couldn't resist adding this sweet, little pup's very peaceful mug.