Walk on the Edge

Yesterday was a cancer care day that started with a blood test at 7am and ended at 6:30pm with a CT scan.  I spent a little over an hour with my oncology team ensuring that I was tolerating the side effects of my different chemotherapies.  After receiving two new prescriptions, I headed to bone scan prep and after several hours of waiting for my bones to absorb the radioactive dye, I feel asleep in the scanner.  The CT waiting room is large and L-shaped with a fish tank and several TVs.  I decided to sit in a sunny spot in a far corner away from the crowd to drink my glass of raspberry contrast dye. 

I was sleeping lightly when I heard her whimper; she was in a wheelchair pushed by a big cowboy and wrapped in several blankets so only her anguished cancer face peered out.  They settled several chairs behind me and at some point, she stopped her whimpers, but I could feel her eyes.  I slowly turned and as I did, I caught her smile as she looked directly at me and nodded.  I was in my Indiana Jones outfit, with the hat, leather jacket, and satchel.  You laugh, but yesterday as I walked through the internal medicine waiting room I noticed a thin man in a Dr. Seuss Cat in the Hat, hat. 

How do you walk on the edge of life?  I’ve learned wearing armor to shield myself from the fear and anxiousness of hours of tests and days waiting for results pushes me deep inside where negative self-talk turns nasty.  In my Indiana Jones outfit, I was ready for the adventure, open to all the emotions and willing to listen to the stories from other cancer survivors or caregivers.  As the CT tech called my name, I turned one last time to tip my hat to the women sitting in her wheelchair buried in blankets.  Slowly she raised her hand, smiled and cracked her imaginary whip – she understood what it means to walk on the edge of life, do you?   

Reenergize the WE

We are twelve days from launching OneConnect the new EHR system at MD Anderson, and our largest systems change in 70 years.  There is a mix of excitement and tension in the air creating the kind of “good stress” that moves individuals, teams, and great organizations forward.  George Everly has found in his resilience research with Navy Seals, that connectedness and support are the single most powerful predictors of individual and team resilience.  A successful launch at MD Anderson will take an all-out effort these last twelve days where connectedness and support reenergize the “we”.  How will you reenergize the “we” in your family or on your team today?  

Why develop a mindfulness practice?

Sacred Moments

This morning I woke in these mountains again, but it was snowing and a horse named wildfire was waiting across the frozen lake...

Blog 2-Years Ago Feb, 18^th

Today, I woke in the mid-80’s standing on a branch at the top of a 120-foot pine tree in Grass Valley, CA. It’s a bit like riding a gentle ocean wave, as the top sways with the hot wind. There are 15 of us in a Project Adventure training week, gaining insight into experienced-based learning, and ourselves. I step off into space and immediately feel the rope catch in the carabineer at my waist. I had rappelled out of helicopters in the Army, but never with a Navajo belaying my journey. My team is all Navajo schoolteachers, and I learned more about life and myself through them than our trainer. They taught me everything is sacred from the tiny bluebird to the majestic pine trees, and living with the sacred opens us up to each moment. Today, be open to sacred moments.

Don’t Take Life Moments for Granted

In my laughter yoga class today, I had several cancer survivors, caregivers, and also a grandma and her grandchild who were waiting for news about a daughter/mom.  Two of the participants were a couple where the man was the cancer survivor and had experienced five recurrences of cancer in different parts of his body.  At the end of the class, the man took off for the restroom and his wife and I had a chance to talk.  I told her, “Your husband appears to have a great attitude”, she told me, “He always has, and he just seems to be one of those individuals who has chosen to live life deeply never taking a day for granted”. 

Inside I could feel my smile grow as I thought he gets it, none of us can take a day or life moments for granted.  Maybe it was after the first bullet flew over my head in the Army that I realized tomorrow is not a given, but a hope!  My cancer journey has underlined the importance of living in a way that each life moment opens up and deepens the experience of living.  We are midway through February of 2016, are you still taking life moments for granted?  Don’t! 

Ever?

Ever watch a sunset when the sky is on fire and for just a moment wonder why?  Ever wake up early just to feel the fog, and be touched for life?  Ever catch a flower as she smiled with colors you knew you would never forget?  Ever become transfixed by clouds softly brushed by a midday sun, and let out a sigh?  Ever watch the moonrise and know the day had come to a good end?  Ever sit by a 100-year-old tree and marvel at the miracle of life?  These things so real to you and me are how we learn to breathe in life and live mindfully.  Be mindful today, for it will only come around once.     

Being - Doing - Autopilot

How was your Valentines?  Many lock their lives in autopilot as a coping strategy to keep distracted from life stress and the associated pain, anxiety and fear.  The problem with an autopilot life is it can drive heartless reactions, which are hard on relationships.  My hope is you turned your autopilot off for a bit this weekend.  Maybe you spent Valentines in your do mode, doing Valentines just right, but keeping your emotions at a safe distance.  I started the weekend in the do mode with a list of projects we have been trying to get started and by early Sunday afternoon, I had crossed several off my list.  From that point on I switched to “just being”, a place where I am fully connected, grounded, and open to the emotions Valentines brings.  MaryBeth and I enjoyed time together, and Auggie (dog) and I had some wonderful restful walks.  Were you being, doing, or on autopilot this Valentines?

Sky of Gratitude

It’s been a tough month with too many days of lousy stamina, so after meeting with my oncologist, we agreed I needed more days off from the 2^nd oral chemo he’s added.  We are hoping my new routine of 5 days on, 2 days off; 7 days on followed by 7 days off will give my body a needed rest and chance to repair.  We also talked about the dark side of my journey, and he referred me to palliative care.  Arriving early for my appointment and sitting in the waiting room with two men, one in pain and one showing the anguish of a slow death, brought back memories of my hospice work – and then the nurse called my name. 

By the time the nurse had completed her patient intake, I was feeling more comfortable with being in palliative.  We talked about things no one had ever asked in my eight-year journey, but it felt good, for it was getting at who I am.  The therapists took this conversation further and I had moments of laughter, hard tears, followed by heart led revelations.  Before the physician sat down, I told him how much his team had helped guide me to a better place.  He smiled, for it was just what my oncologist had ordered.  The 3-hours with the palliative team had reenergized my lifeblood and got me back in touch with me.  That night as I parked at the grocery store I could once again feel my lifeblood and the sky boiled over with my feelings of gratitude.  Get in touch with your lifeblood today.

Live the Mystery

My weight this morning was 179, 36 pounds less than the hormone driven 215 at one time in my cancer journey.  Returning from the labyrinth walk I led this afternoon, I could feel again an internal smile as I thought about being nicknamed the Fly.  Doug Moreau (LSU & Miami Dolphin tight end) gave me the name and called me out for my “no fear” effort my first season (7^th grade) on the junior varsity football team.  After college, I entered the Army in great shape at 150 pounds.  After Ranger and jump school, I was down to 136 and had gained the nickname Swamp Rabbit, for my survivorship skills and ability to remain calm in a crisis.   This weekend as I waited for the fog to lift, I could feel my internal smile spread as the Fly and Swamp Rabbit reminded me who I am, and how ”I” live the mystery.  Today, recognize your authenticity as you live the mystery.   

Life Flame

The summer after my first year of college, I headed to Walla Walla, Washington to work in the Green Giant pea factory.  Initially, I worked in the factory at various jobs but quickly moved to a truck-driving job for a harvesting crew that doubled my pay.  My team drove large dump trucks that followed the pea combines through the fields on the mountainsides, and once filled with pea vines we’d drive down to the pod-strippers.  It was a 24-7 operation and I drove the 6am-6pm shift.  One morning at dusk as I drove down a twisting old gravel road I rounded a corner to find a pickup truck heading up the mountain, on my side of the road.  I steered the truck out of his way climbing the inside of the mountain so he could pass safely, but as the truck came back down, I knew I was going to roll, so I ducked under the steering column.  After the roll, the truck headed to the far side and would have crashed off the mountain, but a large tree stump caught my right front tire stopping the truck.  When the foreman came with the tow truck and saw what had happened he asked me, “Why are you still alive”? 

I survived my Airborne Ranger days in the Army to break my back in a car accident where the Pinto I was driving should have blown up.  Last night as I drove to my son’s for supper I saw a friend getting into his car at my old church, so I stopped to talk.  We laughed as we shared old stories and he leaned closer as I updated him on my cancer.  We hugged, and as I started to walk away, he grabbed my arm and said, “You’re at peace”.  I smiled for I realized for me, life has never been about the why, but about living the mystery and believing in my life flame.  Live the mystery today and feel the glow of your life flame.   

Know Way will I Miss Today

In “know” way will I miss today.  The crescent moon greeted me as I reached down to give Sun Dance, our outdoor cat, a cuddle, and rub.  He purred softly and walked me to my truck telling me about his plans to keep people smiling today as they walk by our townhouse and catch him sleeping in the garden.  A morning meeting will take me across the bayou bridge where I will stop and watch the whooping cranes and schools of fish that call the bayou home.  Instantly I am back in Louisiana, barefoot and standing in the swamp, catching minnows with a bucket.  Gardens with multiple colors and smells will greet me as I walk up the sidewalk reminding me how much I love this time of the year as the last frost date slips by and we eagerly wait, splashes of bright bold colors.  Know way will I miss today – how about you?  

Whispers of the Heart

After a long embrace, we said goodbye with a long kiss, and I headed to the airport to catch a plane for Germany where I would work as a lifeguard in an orphanage for the summer.  She was heading home to Puerto Rico; her dad was stationed at US Navy Southern Command airbase.  A long distance summer romance in the 60’s was tough, for we didn’t have the internet, phones calls were too expensive and complicated, and letters took 5-10 days to travel the 4,685 miles. 

The orphanage was near Heidelberg, in beautiful rolling hills and farm country.  My room was a long walk from the orphanage through a poppy field covered by tall grass and waves of crimson blooms.  The field became my refuge, a place to write, read her letters, and at night a place to lay under the dome of stars mesmerized by the orchestra of night sounds, dancing fireflies, and whispers of the heart.  A long distance romance, night sounds, and dancing fireflies taught me how to listen to the whispers of my heart.  Listen to the whispers of your heart today.  

Awakening

It was the summer before college and I was working at Camp Union in Greenfield New Hampshire at the foothills of the White Mountains.  I was a member of a small team that took groups of campers out to hike the White Mountains. We taught kids from the Boston ghettos compass skills, the constellations, edible berries, lean-to crafts, and survival and life skills they wouldn’t learn in the ghetto. 

My mother was slowly dying of cancer, so it was good to be far away from home where death lingered in every corner.  However, my tent mate was a college student from France, and he constantly talked about all the young men our age dying in Vietnam, but I was hiding behind golden sunsets and stars you could reach up and touch.  Halfway through the summer my mom, wrote me about a family friend killed in Vietnam, and as I reread the letter, I remember tears streaming down my face.  That night, the sunset lost its magic glow and I cried hard, as I watched the day end with an awakened mortality.  My mother would die in a year and I would lose other friends in Vietnam, but sunsets slowly regained their magic glow as my awakened mortality drove me to find joy in each day.  Awake to the joy of life today!