Not feeling it yet

But not because I can't--because I'm not letting myself. I don't really want to let myself go into that until probably tomorrow night, when I'll have time to.

I got the news yesterday, sometime between 11 and noon. Called A at work; she said she'd come home. Took a shower because I hadn't yet. Called a few others: teachers, clergy. I wanted them to know before I put it on Facebook, and I wanted to hear their voices.

A came home, already feeling it. I wasn't. We sat at the kitchen table and talked about practical details: giving her my passwords and that sort of thing. We both did our own thing for a bit, then we went to a local park that has a Japanese garden and a zoo. I wanted to walk barefoot. The garden was closed, so we walked around looking at monkeys and turtles for awhile.

We came home. She made dinner while I did Facebook and e-mail. I'm completely overwhelmed by the response my news has gotten. So. much. love. I'm not even letting myself feel that yet--I'm saving it for later, when I've begun to come to terms with this in my own self.

We made ourselves eat; neither of us wanted to. I don't feel this emotionally--or rather, I'm only beginning to. All of my anxiety is in my body.

We slept. I woke up before the alarm, looked at my inbox again, and IM'ed with Margaret until she had to go to work. We got up, forced ourselves through showers and breakfast. I rode with A to work so I could use the car today, and now I'm back home. I have a breathing test at Kaiser Sac at 1 this afternoon. Then I'm going to Trinity to find Kathleen. I asked her for time; no agenda, just wanting to connect. After that, I have an appointment with my spiritual director. Yesterday I wanted to talk to her about this. Today I don't.

I might or might not go back to Trinity afterward for dinner. Thursday dinners were my project and I organized them--I've just handed it off, because I can't do that responsibility and my own health now. Part of me wants the attention; knows they know, wants the love. Part of me isn't ready to face that much attention yet. I need to feel my own emotions first. It's not like when I went to the ordinations at Grace, loving my ordinand friends, needing hugs and knowing I'd get them. This is so much more serious. It's not, "You're probably clean; don't worry." It's, "I'm so sorry I had to tell you. You've got it in your bones, lungs, and several other places." I know exactly what my odds are. I know where we're at with treatment options. This is stage IV melanoma.

I'm still waiting for the doctor in Riverside to call me. I'm anxious about that too. I want some time to be healthy. I wonder if it's realistic to ask for July?

Of course I will fight. All my instincts say, cooperate with the doctors' best efforts. I would rather live than die. I also know that I don't control my body's response to treatment. If I had that power, I'd have been done a year ago. I know I'm in the fight of my life, and I'm present and willing to do what I need to. If I throw up six times a day, but the treatment's working, then I'll keep throwing up for the sake of survival. I also know that it could go either way, and that I am more likely to die than to live. I want to go where this takes me, with my eyes open.

I didn't ask for a cancer ministry. But I have it. And I want to do it well. I write for myself, in public--and I have an idea of the effect of these words. I go where this takes me, and I report from those places. I'm willing to do that as long as I'm able to.

But I don't want to be a movie of the week, you know? This isn't about some fake sappy heroism. If I survive this, living through it as transparently as I can, I will be so much better at everything. One of my teachers told me, "It's an awful way to get ministry skills. But you're getting them." She was right. Can I enter into pain without fear? Yes.

Mindful that I haven't talked to the doctor in Riverside. He may have other ideas. There may be reasons that I'm not eligible for IL-2. There may be other viable options (trials, etc). There may not be. I have no real idea where I'm going.

All I know is that I will never be alone again.

Did God have anything to do with me getting cancer? Fuck no. God would way rather me be hanging out with homeless people. But here I am, and here God is, and here are the people who love me.

I wrote that I almost hoped we'd find something; I wanted to see my body respond well to treatment. Part of me is shocked to the bone that we did find something. But I think I also knew, as soon as I felt that tumor inside me three weeks ago, that there would be more. And I think that my "almost hoping" was really, getting ready.

I have no idea where this is taking me. But I know that I can go there. It's easier, when it's your own self. I hurt more for the people who love me.