Tonight there is a lunar eclipse. I am tired, but I am staying up late because the last time a lunar eclipsed happened was 400 years ago. Knowing it may be another 400 years before it happens again and I know I won’t be around to see it --and I want to experience it.
I am okay with saying I won’t be around in 400 years, but last year at this time, I wasn’t sure I’d be around in 1 year.
History has been lingering around me like the pokey Christmas tree spruce needles carpeting my house. (I wish I had a bull pine tree instead of a spruce.) The holidays are a reminder of what I went through this past year, a year I’ve been doing really good at putting behind me.
It was after Thanksgiving last year that I learned I might have some sort of disease, and that disease might be cancer. It was during the Opera’s Holiday Pops Concert that I stood in the back of the performance hall, with a huge lump in my throat and tears streaming down my face as the choir sang Joy to the World. I was not Joyful, I was fearful of what was to come. There was no new life being brought into my world, instead, it felt like life was ending.
This year during Holiday Pops, I sang in the chorus. I have to admit, it was really hard. Here’s a secret most don’t know about me. I am actually quite terrible in crowds and most of the time, I am in character. It’s a trick I learned with all my years of theater. It’s easier for me to be in character because I can escape any stage fright or emotional attachment I have towards something. It was a struggle to fight back tears this year singing what is typical rather emotional music anyway. So needless to say so I didn’t look like a blithering fool, I found that place I needed to be and powered through Joy to the World. Besides, when I cry, I sing flat.
Last year I went to my sorority party and everyone gave me mournful yet supportive hugs. This year the only cancer related thing someone said to me at the party was, “How the heck did you get that wicked scar on your neck?” I smiled and said, “That? Oh that is where I had my cancer biopsy done. But that’s nothing, check this out!” and I pulled my shirt down lower and exposed my port scar which looks like the surgeon cut me open with a chainsaw and stitched me up with a net mending needle. I now have impressive party scars to show off. Not very feminine, but hey, it’s what I’ve got to offer.
Christmas will be the next hurdle. Last Christmas I slept a lot. Mom and dad were here and mom made sure I got plenty of rest which I needed. Everything was kind of a blur since I knew I’d be leaving a few days after Christmas to get the official verdict, the verdict I was pretty sure I already knew.
As these moments repeat themselves a year later, reflection is impossible to bypass and emotions are difficult to hold back. My friend Jamie told me not to ignore my feelings, but instead, just take note of them. So yes, I’ve been making many notes the past few weeks. I imagine myself writing them down, sealing them in an envelope and sending them away, never to be heard from again. I don’t want this season to be remembered with angst and fear. I just want it to be what it is, and live in the present. History is history, and in my case, every 400 years is good enough for me.
It’s 10 degrees outside right now, but I’m headed out to watch the eclipse.
Our dear, lovely Francis - you are so amazing! One of the wonderful aspects of our modern techno world is how the internet can be used in therapeutic ways (did I spell that correctly?). So many people have had to suffer through hard times relatively alone, but you chose to be open about your disease, your treatments, and most importantly your feelings and fears. The act of writing these things was certainly helpful for you. But it was also so helpful for the rest of us in your wide, wide circle; helpful in that we could understand your fears as well as our fears for you, and send you our words of support and love. The worst is behind you, but the memories, the feelings of dread, the fears, are like bytes of information that can't ever really be deleted from memory.
ReplyDeleteI hope you saw and enjoyed the eclipse. But an eclipse pales in comparison to your strength. We long to see you (and I have to admit, I need to get to know your girls), and we will someday soon. Love....
You are such a lovely writer. I always enjoy reading your blog. Thanks for sharing your feelings. I hope you have a wonderful new year! Happy 2011! :)
ReplyDeleteNicholle