The Land We Belong To

This afternoon, as my parents were visiting, we sat down to watch a movie "Far and Away" a depiction of the famous land run into Oklahoma.  With the recent devastation still on my mind, I wondered to myself if these settlers could even imagine what their claimed land held in store for them.

My stomach still churns at the the sense of helplessness I felt last week as the cable news channel showed the tornado plowing through my hometown, the helicopters swooping in with instant videos of the destruction. People were shocked as the improbable reality of a storm of such magnitude actually striking again, turned into a seemingly familiar resignation of gloom when what was left was nothing but rubble.

And the media descended into the chaos, asking the obvious questions  - "Why do you continue to live in an area that poses so much risk?  Most people's answers implied the same message...."Because it is what we know.....Because it's home."

Yes, it is home, but it is a tough land, with unforgiving summers, red clay dirt, fierce winds and reckless storms.  These storms twist and tease, beating a path of destruction and spewing the lives and belongings of the victims back to the ground, then casually creeping into the dark cloud above it.

But these people who endure, whose families have histories far before the dust bowl, have never taken the easy path.  Instead of shaking their fists at fate or the land that betrayed them, they get up another day, and although a little worse for wear, they move forward in the hopes that their tomorrow will be a brighter day.

After all, they are home.

On My Own Terms

I spent the last week in the hospital.  I have adjusted to the fact that although it certainly doesn't define me, I will be a cancer patient forever. And after seven years, I have accepted the potential outcomes of my disease and feel confident that if I leave this life on earth,  I will awaken to another experience, another realm, always connected to my loved ones.  So, bottom line.... my cancer doesn't shake me.

I think what I have taken from the whole doctor/hospital thing is - question everything.  In the beginning of my illness, I was terrified, so everything the physicians said and did - I accepted without question.  And, God bless them, they are amazing, wise people, these physicians, but they cannot know our bodies like we do.  And, they do not know every single, correct decision every patient should make.  They just don't.

I've learned to speak up.  If I think that there might be a better option of treatment than I am offered, I go in search of it and try it.  If I don't want a tube shoved down my nose, through my throat into my stomach, then I just say "no"  and smile.  If the nurse assigned to my room is having a bad day.....I can ask to have her reassigned.  This past week in the hospital I woke up to an anesthesiologist standing over my bed with consent forms for me to sign because the on-call surgeon was wanting to cut me open and do an exploratory surgery with a possible intestinal resection.  (He had a sudden opening in his schedule)  Again, "no"  (smile)

I know that I am to the point that I will need to have surgery, but I'm doing it on my own terms.  I've since spoken to the surgeon and asked that the surgery be a collaborative one with another specialist.  I've learned to cover my own bases, because sometimes, they just don't.  Perhaps I need to feel in control of something and this gives me that aspect of control.

Interestingly enough, the physicians are usually very open to discussion and compromise.  So for now....life is on my own terms.