The Resilience of kathyclark

It is official. The splenectomy is a failure.

I will not hide my disappointment. Nor will I clothe my grief in dignity. I rage against the Universe on this day. My tears flow freely for all to see.

This morning for the first time in well over a week, I awoke feeling good, physically and emotionally. I had energy and I felt happy. Walking into the Cancer Center today for my weekly platelet count and injection, I observed the gracious sky, the bountiful source of all blessings and felt hope. I made a mental note of this feeling just in case I received bad news during my visit. I wanted to remember the hope sensation even if it got yanked out from under me. I repeated the word, "hope, hope, hope" to myself.

Platelet count is 11,000. Down from 104,000 last week. Last week, the doctor decided to give me no treatment in order to see if the splenectomy is having the desired effects. No spleen = more platelets in theory and sometimes in practice. I knew there were no guarantees at the onset. But rather than put stock in a negative outcome, I decided to believe in the doctors, believe they were guiding me in the right direction. After fighting with them for five years, I decided this might be a novel approach for me.

It is hard to be proven right in some instances.

The splenectomy is effective about 50% of the time. I am the other 50%.

Walking out of the Cancer Center, I looked at the sky - which had become cloudier, more dramatic. In the hour I'd been indoors, the temperature had dropped a bit, the wind had picked up. I looked at the sky and said, "hope." And I cried. Not bothering to wipe the tears from my cheek. Still looking each person that passed me in the eye.

I had just been reading about Raccoon medicine. In the Native American tradition, Raccoon teaches of the importance in giving back to the source of our strength, guidance and protection. Raccoon speaks of generosity to others, of sharing one's time, energy, bounty with others but additionally helping them to develop their own protector/provider skills. And I thought, "Even still, there is someone who needs me. Even still, there is someone worse off than me that I can help. I must remember this."

And on the drive home, I began to think ahead. I will contact my doctor about ending the weekly injections and taking a pill version of the same treatment I currently get by injection. This way, I won't, in theory, have to go to the Cancer Center every week.

I will make an appointment with my naturopath and resume work with her.

There are a lot of alternative therapies that I have not yet pursued. Acupuncture. Chinese medicine. I haven't resumed daily juicing. This is to be explored still.

Stella the dog needs me. I made a vow to walk her more frequently.

In half an hour, I must do my radio show at WQFS. The show will go on despite my unhappy news. I will continue to play music and hopefully entertain folks.

This is just another thing in a world of things. The Truth at the Heart of the Matter is that things don't matter.

Everything will be alright.