May 10, 2007
Soon now, in just five days, I return to the Oncologist’s office to supposedly resume the Chemotherapy. There is a level of unease about what will happen next since I am not sure about how it would be if the severity of the side effects of the therapy were to increase. Just this morning, I felt a reasonable energy to address life on a fine spring day, though my taste is still not completely functional. We hope to find out whether this has been a toxic reaction from the last round, or if perhaps the Vidaza is not working as usual, or something we haven’t thought of so far. Perhaps dosages, times, etc., will be adjusted accordingly. When the illness is there, the questions are always poking around the edges of the mind, and unfortunately, due to the nature of this disease, the answers are not forthcoming.
Various books about birds speak to how one can keep orioles nearby, happy to be a part of the ambiance, singing their songs and showing up in orange and black splendor. Put out orange slices, and/or jelly, they instruct, so I enlisted John-paul’s aid in placing a pole with a pan hanging from one of the arms near the plum bushes on the south edge of the inside yard. We got it nicely placed, orange slices attractively arranged, when John-paul began to voice doubts that any oriole would partake. I said just you wait and see. Several days passed without a sighting, then yesterday morning when I came by on the dawn walk, the largest oriole I have ever seen was perched on the edge of the pan. It sat motionless, and as I cautiously approached, I saw that it was a faux oriole, beautifully cut out and solidly taped into place sometime between bedtime and dawn. Tsk.
Mother’s Day weekend will find all of us together – children and grandchildren from Seattle and Chicago and Lincoln. We will gather for food and singing and stories. It will be a time of celebrating the wonder of God’s gift of family – looking back at the grand times of the past and looking forward into the future to the wonders the grand daughters will bring to the planet. These are hours that grow large and long and as they are remembered, they provide color and delight for the times when life is in need of such things.