Writings of Constance Ore ( 1937 – 2010 )

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1

Today is a day for contemplating the landscape of our culture as thoughts move from Russia, where world leaders discuss the fate of millions, through Los Angeles where an icon of the musical world is being memorialized by vast numbers of people this very hour. It is highly unlikely that someone from either place will ever give a thought to, or place a foot upon this soil that I call “Sanctuary”. Beginning with Charles and myself, moving past Alphie, the fox in the yard yesterday, the doe and her fawns this morning and the gathering of birds sending their fledges off into the world, I believe this to be very acceptable to all of us who reside here. A single living thing is contained in a very small space, after all, and only a few remarkable people and/or events will alter the course of history. Whether today’s activities will season the future remains to be seen.

This last week I began hosting “leukemic mouth sores”, which are certainly in the league of “mother of all mouth sores” making the typical canker sore quite mundane by comparison. Tiny little holes appeared through the roof of the mouth, and these seemed to permit direct access to the internal structures of the face. At the start of this novel way to be sick, I realized that anything that had any kind of flavor or texture would send shock waves through my entire jaw, so I began a diet of water and Pedialite/frozen yogurt and cantaloupe. The melon didn’t seem to elicit the same reaction as berries, peaches, or other fruits. The doctor gave me a material (triamcinolone acetonide) that resembles wallpaper paste that adheres to the wet surface of the mouth while delivering corticosteroid to the tissues. Improvement is very slow in coming, though now I am able to eat more foods again. Other than that, I have some energy, Charles makes me laugh, Alphie is a real dog, and I can’t complain.

“A time to be born, and a time to die . . .a time to kill, and a time to heal, a time to break down, and a time to build up, a time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance. . .a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing. . . a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war, and a time for peace.” (excerpted from Ecc. 3:2-8)

My New Life – Part Three

On May 18th, I entered into the last part of this Blog – that was when I heard that there is no more therapy to be tried for the bone marrow cancer. Since then, I have come six weeks in reasonably good health, including the road trip, and I have no clue about how long I will live. I have entered the land of the “chronic” where I join those thousands of humans near and far who trundle through life in lesser containers.

Perfect days in sunlight and temperature are treasures, and today was one of those events. Our summer migrants who diligently work long hours ridding our near spaces of mosquitoes and other insects are here again with only the stipulation that their housing be right next to the front door to our second floor. Generally this is an amiable arrangement, though their babies do tend to become quite messy just before they leave the nest to seek their own fortunes. Alphie continues his quest for “things under the earth” and his hole repertory is increasing. When I go out to pick mulberries near a lightly traveled path on the west side of the property, I let him dig all he wants, and he is working on a deep trench. He swims in the pond before we return home, and his entire being radiates wet contentment with the whole adventure.

The contemplations about the meaning of life (I have always liked the “42” supplied by the book, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy”) and God’s intentions continue. Where one’s soul goes after the final earthly breath is taken remains a mystery to me. I have greatly enjoyed talking to people about their thoughts on the matter, because heaven (or the afterlife) is a different place to everyone who responds. I asked the young Mennonite woman who comes to assist us in cleaning the house what her church teaches about heaven, and she responded, “Well, it’s going to be one huge banquet, with everyone at the table.” “Eating?” I asked, and she said, “Of course, eating and drinking and having a very good time.” “Who is going to clear away the dishes and where will the trash go?” was my next question. She thought for a bit and then gave me a wonderful, big smile and said, “I figure God can take care of that, since he takes care of everything else, doesn’t he?” I enjoy thinking about that exchange – when one lives by faith, it is fruitless to get tangled up in the details.

For anyone who has wished for a jungle experience, Sanctuary has become such a destination. Everything is very lush and overgrown from the rains, water stands in the pathways on the edge of the west wetlands, and mosquitoes, swarms of gnats and dragonflies are abundant. The high heat and equally high humidity add to the equatorial environment. Once again we can claim that Nebraska has it all – just a bit ago, it was dry and cool and hands were wringing over whether the farmer’s plantings could survive. The upside is the incredible diversity in the bird population – yesterday morning’s walk included the sighting of a wild hen turkey and her chicks. We came upon them around a corner in the path, and the hen began to squawk and flap her wings so that Alphie would notice her above all, and the chicks scattered. It made me consider how differently from us the creatures have had to become hardwired for their survival. In a situation in which danger might be perceived, a human mother will cling to her children and instruct them to stay close, while in nature, all the little ones go in different directions and hide.

After returning from our road trip, the port “irrigation” and the blood testing were done the next day. When one has a port, every month it has to be washed out lest it become blocked. My port has a small tube running under the skin over the collarbone and into the jugular vein. When the saline solution is sent forth, I can feel it coming in. I always think about the trust one must have in all that has led up to this moment – an error in content or application could have most unpleasant outcomes.

The blood counts did not change after a month of happy living, and since the ANC (Absolute Neutrophil Count) is still very low, the conclusion can only be that the miracle of life continues. With a white blood cell count of 1.4 and a percentage of neutrophils at 20, the ANC is approximately 280. According to the information about neutropenia and immunities (there is a lot written on the Internet from many sources including Mayo Clinic or Emedicine, etc.,) any count under 500 is considered “severe neutropenia”, so the precautions that we have put into place seem to be helping and must continue. Though the number is abysmal, I do have some immunities, rather than none at all, and that can be compared to wearing a bikini instead of having to go out naked where everyone else is wearing more substantial coverage. It is not entirely comfortable, but it can be done.

(John-Paul is traveling this week)

Our road trip is winding down in Mankato, MN with long time friends in their very lovely home in a wooded cul-de-sac near the University. Rains are falling quietly and straight down; no winds, violence, or drama in the skies. This morning we took a fine walk through Rasmussen Woods, an area of natural old growth trees and wetlands that is set aside in the midst of the urban areas. Here we saw a lovely collection of birds that are not often seen at our own Sanctuary.

This whole adventure has been splendid! While with the family at the beginning of last week, there was some illness in the house, but we religiously washed hands, etc., and I did not pick up any sicknesses. I still remain well, with only an uncertain day en route yesterday, but as of now, all is going on as hoped.

On Thursday of last week, we drove northward to spend time with the Dull’s at their home on Lake Michigan in Door County, WI. Here we talked non-stop, walked by the lake and in their woods, played bridge and crafted a life’s experience to remember and cherish for many days to come. As part of that, I determined that Jo and I should get matching “Wellies”. I needed summer weight boots for my morning walks, and since there is a stream that flows into the lake just north of their home, if she wishes to walk on the beach there, she can also make use of a pair. Though the distaff side expressed doubts about how “in” these boots are, we found some that were entirely pleasing and this AM when we were walking, a young woman that we met in the woods commented, “Nice boots”. At that moment, I felt the unique joy that only being “with it” can bring.

Tomorrow we begin our return to Seward with Alphie and Sanctuary on our minds. The unspoken agenda of this trip has been to have wonderful visits with people we cherish while I am still on earth. This has added richness and depth to the conversations, and the whole undertaking has had the blessing of enough good health to make the days splendid and full of joy.