There is laundry hanging on the line outside, gently moving in the breeze.  The windows are open and there is robin perched on the poplar at the back of the garden, singing his heart out.  There is the scent of yeast in the kitchen as the sourdough rises yet again. This afternoon I will plant sweet peas, climbing nasturtiums and scarlet runner beans to attract hummingbirds.

Later on I'll take Lucy out for a walk and I'm guessing that the small lake on the path in the photo above will have dried up.  There is overland flooding all around the county but we are dry and safe.

Katie is doing well on her new meds, mostly.  The threat of eviction has been removed and there is a new case worker from social services working with the agency to come up with new ideas for dealing with Katie's behaviors.  I met the case worker on Thursday and fell in love with her.  She is kind, stubborn, opinionated, thoughtful and cares only about her clients, not the bureaucracy she works for.  She talked about the trauma that disabled people face throughout their lives and of course I started crying.  Even before meeting Katie it seemed like she knew Katie.  This gives me hope.

Work is much better which makes life so much easier.  There is still anger and despair and grief but I have enough in myself now to be able to carry it for my patients for the short time they're with me.  And there is also laughter and joy because life doesn't stop just because you get a cancer diagnosis.  It goes on, the good, the bad, the funny, the awful;  it all still continues.  Such is life.

Medicine Lake, the big guy's favorite place in the world.

We were in Jasper this past weekend to visit friends.  My girlfriend with metastatic breast cancer has been admitted into the hospital and is gently sliding down towards the end of her life.  One of the tumors in her brain is pressing on her right eye, causing the eye to bulge out and bother her.  Her speech is slightly slurred, her legs are swollen and she's taking small doses of morphine for the pain.  She dozes off and on, half listening to everything going on around her.  Sometimes she follows a conversation and sometimes her brain misfires and strange things come out.  Her filters are gone and she gets stuck in a rut, perseverating on something.

She sleeps at the hospital and everyday her husband takes her out for a daytrip someplace.  Last Friday was to Hinton for more quilting fabric.  She has made eight quilts since her brush with imminent death back in February.  I told her husband she wants more fabric because then she can't die.  She still has quilts to make.

She's also planning a camping trip this summer.  She wants to attend a wedding in Ontario.  She is full of plans, not ready to let go of the world yet.  And a dog, she wants a dog.  A bernedoodle to be exact, the size of a turkey.  Most of all she wants a future.

Her husband has arranged for people to be with her when he's not there.  She is surrounded by friends, family and love.  He is well cared for.  They live in a small town, a close knit community and his freezer is full of frozen meals dropped off by neighbors and friends.  He's taking care of himself too which is good.  He's taken an extended leave and spends his time with his wife, doing whatever it is she feels like doing that day.

My friend is only fifty-seven.  I hate cancer.  I know we all have to die but it still seems like a harsh way to die.  She has spent the past thirteen years dealing with cancer and now it is dragging her under.  It is unrelenting.  

There is a line in a song by Ed Sheerhan, Supermarket Flowers that rings true for me.

"A heart that's broke is a heart that's been loved"

My friend has been loved and has loved.  I will miss her.

Miss Lucy enjoying the sunshine.  She is the sweetest little dog, slightly neurotic but oh so sweet.  She's a rescue with an enlarged heart, a bad back and a sensitive stomach which sometimes leads to bloody diarrhea.  When she's very excited and running around like a maniac she will chase the cat and ultimately hump the cat, something which deeply offends the cat I'm sure.

We had another meeting about Katie.  Social services is now involved which is hopeful.  Social services provides the money to the agency which cares for Katie.  For the first time in years, somebody actually asked questions about Katie's needs.  The agency which cares for Katie has undergone some changes in the past nine months.  The original owner has retired and her son has taken over.  He is also a very kind man but not the same as his mother.  He has given Katie until the end of April for her behavior to improve, otherwise they want us to find another agency to care for Katie.  In the meeting on Thursday we all agreed that Katie staying where she is, in her home, is in Katie's best interests.  Now we just need to make that work.  Suggestions were made, a plan will be made, emails will be exchanged and hopefully something good will come from all this.

Katie was started on valproic acid which is mostly used for epilepsy but is also used as a mood stabilizer, something I didn't know.  She seems better.  Her behavior is better but time will tell.  And of course she is a young woman so her moods cycle along with her periods.  She was in her glory on Thursday because there was a room full of people who wanted to meet her.  She loves people and if she wasn't disabled she would have made a wonderful politician, although a mental disability doesn't seem to handicap some politicians (cough, Trump, cough).

I'm hopeful.

Pain is inevitable.  Suffering is optional.

I've seen this quote before but just reread it in a book I'm reading right now and it somehow struck a chord in me that it never has before.  

Note to self, remember suffering is optional.

My beautiful, wrecked daughter

heads touching

tears mingling

shoulders shaking

we hold each other

unable to fix

I can only hold on

unable to stop

you can only hold on

hearts breaking

I see the baby

that was placed 

in my arms

and you?

who knows

a smell, a touch

something familiar

drugs coursing

through your body

fear soaking

your brain

my baby gone

replaced by you

my beautiful,

wrecked daughter

I have to go to a meeting today with Katie's agency.  Not sure what will happen which makes me anxious.  One of the guardians of Katie's roommate has complained about Katie.  The cannabis has failed to help her as much as we hoped it would.  I'm not sure why. 

When I was a young woman I worked at a place called Michener Centre.  It was an institution where people with mental disabilities were warehoused.  I worked on a women's unit.  There were forty-five women in each half of our building.  The building was two stories and there were eight or ten buildings on site.  It was a warehouse and as such had minimal staffing, maybe three or four staff per side.  Most of the clients/patients were kept drugged into oblivion, at least in my opinion.  They were drugged enough so that they would sit or pace all day in a locked room with forty-four other women.  They were drugged enough so that they would eat their meals quickly, thirty minutes to serve and feed ninety women, including two cups of coffee each.  They were drugged enough to sleep in huge dorm rooms.  It was an awful place and I only lasted a year there.  Everything was locked and all the staff carried big old fashioned skeleton keys.

I volunteered for every outing that there was, dances, swimming, walks, drives, you name it.  I tried but that place sucked the life out of both staff and clients.

And that's my worry with Katie.  I know times have changed but still in the back of my mind is a drugged woman, sitting in a chair, drooling, oblivious ot what is going on around her.  Drugged into submission because it's easier, because it's convenient.  It's why I fight so hard to find something that will allow Katie to be herself, to exist as herself.  There are two women in my mind.  The Miss Katie that I carried in my arms, the one who always smiled, and the Miss Katie who screams and cries and hits herself and others.  I can't reconcile the two. 

I want Katie to enjoy life.  I want her to be free of anxiety, as much as is possible.  I want her to be in public because she loves people.  I want her to be safe.  I want her to feel safe.  I just don't know how to do this. 

I had a young man as a patient yesterday.  He was not quite thirty.  He has Burkitt's lymphoma;  it is one of the fastest growing cancers and has a special fondness for the central nervous system.  He's partially paralyzed as a result of the cancer.

He came down to have a new central line put in and his old line pulled out.  He was a terrified little boy in the body of a heavily tattooed ex-con/drug addict.  It took a long time to get everything sorted out.  His platelets were low, there were questions that needed to be answered but we finally got him in the room.

I was ready not to like him.  When he first came to us another nurse had said he was kind of an ass.  But then I met him.  I talked to him.  I listened to him.  He wasn't an ass, he was just scared.  I imagine when he was first admitted he was pretty angry.  Nobody would believe him when he was complaining of symptoms while he was in jail.  Burkitt's lymphoma is a rare cancer, only 1-2% of all adult lymphomas.  Then he had severe back pain and partial paralysis.  And now he is with us.  We have three young men right now with Burkitt's and all are either partially or completely paralyzed.  They come to us and stay with us for months on end while they receive treatment.

I told him yesterday that this will be the hardest thing he will ever go through.  He is terrified of needles, terrified of pain.  I don't know what he's been through in his life but I'm guessing it can't have been good.  The last young man who was terrified of needles like that had found the body of his best friend's dad with a needle still hanging out of his arm.  That image has stayed with him his whole life.

Yesterday reminded me to not prejudge people.  I try and I fail and then I try some more.  We are such a messy species, us humans.  Perhaps wolves and elk are just as judgmental as us but they just don't beat themselves up over it.  Or maybe they do.  Who knows.  It's one of my traits that I most dislike about myself.  I know it's part of being human.  That judging is probably an old trait that helped keep us safe and probably still does but it's also a very poisonous trait that keeps us from truly seeing each other as the same.  Because we are all the same really.  We all have fears, pasts, wounds.  We all suffer, we just express it differently.  We all carry our past on our backs with us and it colors everything we say and do.

It's hard being human.

I'm liking my counselor.  She's older than me, a cancer survivor: she's also kind and wise.  We're talking about my childhood now which makes me cry.  I've always felt like a disappointment to my family, to my ex-husband, to my children, just kind of a failure in general.  I've made lots of mistakes in life, as have we all but I have defined myself by those mistakes instead of my accomplishments or strengths.

My counselor asked me a question on Wednesday which I had never asked myself before.  What do you like about yourself?

Here goes.

I have a very good sense of humor, all kinds of humor.
I'm hard working.
I'm willing to look at myself and my flaws.
I'm smart.
I love word play.
I love play in general, especially the kind little kids enjoy.
I'm compassionate.
I'm empathetic.
I'm loyal.
I love looking at the world.  My memory is all visual and I love just looking, soaking the world in.
I'm a good baker.
I'm a hugger.  The world always needs more huggers.
I love learning new skills.
I'm love to read and learn.
I'm quite willing to look foolish to make others more comfortable.  At work I often play the fool for my patients, to make them laugh.
I tend to love hard, if that makes any sense.  It does to me.  Fiercely might be a better word.


What do you like about yourself?  Please tell me.