Happy Independence Day

I’ve been home more than a week now and have settled into the situation of life under the circumstances. I live on the top floor of the house chained by my nose to an oxygen machine that, with 50 feet of cord, allows me to venture from bedroom to kitchen. Occasionally, I’ll hook up to a portable tank and get out for one trip or another as my energy and stamina increases.

The recovery progresses, slower than I’d like, but altogether I’m getting better. I’ve cut the oxygen down a little bit though I’m on it 24/7. I’m also slowly weaning down the massive amounts of drugs I’m on. This started by cutting my steroids in half last week, which allowed for me to take them in pill form but thanks to the dosaging means popping 17 of these chalky white tablets a day. Kim gives me a poke once a day by needle to deliver my blood thinner. And for someone who doesn’t like the look of a needle, she’s doing a great job at it. Then I’m continuing with my regular dosage of pain pills, and the ensuing constipation medicine. Then, just because, I throw in a couple more pills like antibiotics, which ends soon, and my antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication, which will go on for awhile.

By the way, I slept great this week at home and realized through the wisdom of a doctor friend that the reduction in steroids might be a reason for these long slumbers and return to vivid REM dreaming. But as the lungs repair I’m more aware of the aches and pains associated with the cancer. Some simple acts like reaching up to a cabinet for a glass causes me a good jolt of ‘ouch’ due to the tumor in my shoulder or bending down hurts from my hips due to the tumors in my waist.

Thus, it’s good to have the little ones around to pick things up for me. But in actuality, they do a good job of picking me up and keeping my spirits high. Sophie, in no time at all, got used to the oxygen cords and my reduced pace, and treats me just like ‘dad.’ The boys are being boys and living life as they should, already ignoring my discipline and advice. Though I haven’t got much of a chance to hang with them as they are at sleep-away camp, Camp Solomon Schechter — Jacob for the past week, and Sam, since he’s younger, since Friday. It’s the place where Kim and I met and holds a sacred place in our hearts. I know the good people working there and how they’re keeping their eyes on them to make sure they are doing okay. But I know they are – they are happy dad’s home and they are in an atmosphere removed from my illness where they can just be kids.

In addition, all the love and support from my wife and brother help with therapy to various friends bringing meals makes the transition home this week a safe pleasure. Yesterday my brothers Marc and Dave, Kim’s brother, kept me company and looked out for me while Kim got out and had some fun at the Lilith Fair concert. We ended up going to Boom City, what’s literally become a fair in its own right. Located on an Indian reservation, Boom City sells fireworks that are illegal in most of the state. It’s a great people watching place and it took me back to my childhood love of fireworks. I spent some dough on a box of roman candles, fountains, jumping jacks, and the like, which I’m saving to show the boys.

This holiday, more so than any other, brings back so many memories of childhood. I could hear my dad saying, ‘that’s literally burning up your cash’ when I bought the fireworks as he used to say when I blew my savings at the nearby Safeway firwork stand. These cool northwest fourth of Julys remind me of the ones I spent walking around the neighborhood with my good friend Mark Blair, loaded with our firecrackers like toy soldiers going into battle. We didn’t know what we were up to but we knew we would have an adventure and get after it somehow or other. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my hand sooner, or burn down a house or school – though we did come close. Yeah, it was a different time and age. Amazing how things have changed, the world has gotten more conservative but also more dangerous. I used to run around north Seattle as a pre-teen, now I don’t want my kids to go out on their own until they are eighteen.

But that’s the lesson of cancer, if not parenthood. You have to start letting go of the things you cannot control. And you try to do what you can while you are there. That’s why I’m grateful for everyday I’m here contributing to their values and principles.  I got weirded out the other night watching some TV news magazine. It was a horrible story of a young woman victimized by a rapist and thug who disabled her for life. They interviewed the parents who maintained great composure, though the event had happened sometime in the past. I thought how I’d be an emotional wreck to watch my children go through something so horrible. But I know, too, there’s nothing we can do to prevent our children from being exposed to the cruelty of this world , which ranges from random violence to illness. You have to start letting go of the things you cannot control. I turned off the TV before the show ended and read psalms to calm my disposition. We can’t have our independence without the risk of what this world can take from us. So we have to believe in what we can – what we feel is right and decent, we have to do our best everyday, and help to guide our children to make good choices. But we cannot be there all the time. Cancer or not, this is what keeps me up at night. But it’s because of cancer that I know you have to start letting go of the things you cannot control.