At 7:45 am we sped down to Roswell. I hate getting up that early, especially to arrive somewhere to get something done to you that you really don’t want to agree with, whether its a good idea or not. Also, I did not leave the hospital until 1:15 pm.
Dr. Tokupstankchensticklesteinakomonoskotivit surgically placed a medi-port in my chest today. Besides that one skin colored mole that Ben always picks at, pretending its a dried booger, my scar-free, porcelain smooth skin court (that flows from my neck like the mouth of the Niagara from below my chin) has been becoming much more precious real estate to me, as of late. Its a place where onlookers’ eyes are directed via intricate collars of vintage shirts or necklaces that dangle just-so, then lead to the dark even more seductive trail of cleavage, which tempts, teases and taunts those with the strongest willpower, to sneak a peek. Beware of them stealing glances as you order your coffee or squeeze a tomato to check for its ripeness. Honk honk! I’ve kept it more covered since its been cold still and also due to the asymmetry of it all, but as the fakey grows it has become much easier to make the rack appear real. Therefore, I have been dying to show off my nape. Well I’ll just have to hold that back a bit now. Port in place, bandages in tact, I assume I’ll feel somewhat alien when I take off the gauze to notice a shape jutting out from below my skin, where the extraterrestrials can dually probe me whilst I dream. They’ve been watching with glee with their slimy, googly eyes as I struggled to succumb to this inevitable procedure. With aesthetics training in my arsenal, I will defy nature and utilize my body’s super-hero ability to produce more collagen and Elastin than a regular earthling eventually ridding myself of all these scars the Dark Destroyer has left.
At 9:00 when I got settled in my gurney, I called over to pastoral care and let them know that I would like to have Sara Schultz stop by my bed when she could. She is an extraordinary individual with an amazing voice who has found her spiritual path of bringing meditation and guidance to patients at Roswell through her position as the Jewish chaplain. With her meditation chimes in tow, she showed up at the perfect time, as usual. Sarah, Ben, and I spoke for a while about where we are, where we’re going, and where we come from. Her experiences and knowledge of eastern philosophy and religion give her a complementary approach to cleansing and purifying the mind and spirit to help heal the body!
She started off by slowly and quietly playing her chimes and guiding us to a place where we felt safe and calm. I ended up on a pristine beach enjoying the sounds of the rustling leaves of an over-sized deep rooted, palm tree. The water was a crystalline blue I have never actually seen with my eyes. Asking us to associate a word with this place I instantly thought “HEALTH”. Next we were prompted to go to a similar place from childhood, and I took a trip to nature’s ultimate tree-house on the front lawn of my parents’ house on Billington. I could hear the thump of the forest floor as I jumped from the top level of the tree. Those woods were so magical. Time spent there alone for years had me sometimes believing that my whole life was a dream. For the meditation, my word association here was “TREE”. I was so lost in this world that I barely noticed Sara hitting the chimes less times and and farther apart and then the sounds tapered off and stopped. I opened my eyes with a giant smile on my face yearning for more, as she tucked the last cardboard square into the adjacent part of the box. She said ” I leave you in peace” and moved the curtain aside and was gone. I turned my head towards Ben and said, “What happened, did she get freaked out?”
He pointed to the next hospital bed separated by the same blue hospital curtains fixed to the ceiling on a series of tracks. During my escape the man behind the curtain was unable to find a safe or calm place that he could imagine or from his childhood so he ranted and raved about how “people are lunatics that play instruments” and that he couldn’t “believe they even do that here!”
I felt so sorry for him even though I couldn’t see his face. Also to my surprise I hadn’t heard any of his complaints through all of this. I was too busy climbing a HEALTHY TREE that is eating the cancer inside of me! What’s eating him?