January 9, 2008
Epiphany season began on Sunday, without twelve drummers drumming, but with wonderful music and light imagery that is so fine for us as we begin the time of lengthening days. Minute by minute, our world grows brighter, and ever so slowly, the earth begins to reawaken to another season when the circle of life in our wetlands and woods will begin all over again.
Snow is slowly receding across Sanctuary and occasionally, cardinals have begun to sing out their territorial intentions in the early morning hours. Mostly, there are no bird songs, just warning calls from the bluejays when the hawk is near, the pre-dawn hooting of the great horned owl that lives in the cedars to the west of the house, and the unique whistle of the red tail hawk as it flies over the house toward the pasture and woods.
“How’s the blood?” is the first question that Charles asks after I return from having the CBC (Complete blood count) taken, and with delight I can report that the counts held steady. In this illness, there are three markers. They are the white blood cells, the hemoglobin, and the platelets. All are referred to in numbers which are compared to normal counts, and the lower the numbers the more difficulties one might have with the disease. If the white blood cells diminish past a certain level, there are no immunities to protect or ward off illnesses from without and within. If the hemoglobin drops too far, there is no energy to live, and if the platelets don’t function, bleeding begins through the tissues inside of the body. This great red river called blood joins all of us who live on the planet at this moment, and most of the time, it is quietly carrying on its task of life-support and we don’t think of it at all. I view the vials that contain a bit of mine as they are drawn from the vein and always hope that the numbers that will be returned to me will show that life is a “go”. I know that my hemoglobin is good because I have energy. I assume that the platelets are fine because they have never been “not fine”. The white blood cells are the most vulnerable, and while the count hovers at less than half of what is considered the bottom number of “normal”, it still remains enough to keep me going.
When I began the day on Monday, I had the remnants of a beautiful dream still moving in back of my eyes. I was dancing and dancing, spinning upward and trailing light as I moved through a space filled with song. I consciously added prayers of thanksgiving for all that I have, listing my dear ones by name, and continuing onward and outward with so many people and things and joys that I came fully awake absolutely delighted to be alive in this time and in this place.