Irena Zagajšek and Martijn at the European Parliament, April 3, 2006. Martijn has been home for one week. Despite the sudden surgery last Thursday to close his thigh wound and reinsert the drain to collect lymph fluid, we both feel that much progress has been made. Today Dr. Maurice Bom, our general practitioner stopped by for a check up. He commented that Martijn looks particularly strong, noticeably better than a week ago. Hugging him in bed, I feel he's put on a little weight, one of the most critical aspects to his healing at this point. Certainly his personality is back on track - he's filled with his old vim and vigor, joking (and also finding fault) easily - a good sign.
I'm aware of the full range of emotions around this entire situation. I am grateful to have this precious time together, now with a bit more rhythm to it. I am practicing living in the present moment and trying to understand that, in fact, that is all we have. But I'm also concerned for the future, a very natural reaction to all the information we've received concerning the cancer and its possible trajectory. A big part of me wants to believe that the progress Martijn is making is a sure signal - a marker for a return to our happy life together. Another part sits on the other shoulder whispering 'be aware, be realistic, enjoy this now but don't get too happy, too comfortable!' Yet another portion of my being wants to begin to live again - to work, to go to a film, to dance, to simply feel the rain on my skin and Martijn's arm about me as we stroll through this medieval town I've grown to love.
So, life is a mixed bag, as it is for most everyone. But my bag has the tiniest hole in it where crumbs fall through leaving a subtle trail as a reminder of how precious life is. When I do the laundry, clean the house, shop for groceries, cook our meals, I keep this hyperawareness and try to enjoy each detail in crystal sharp relief. Tomorrow, Wednesday and Thursday we have appointments with a range of hospital professionals: the oncologic surgeons, the plastic surgeon, our wonderful social worker, the physical therapist, as well as the twice daily visits from the Home Nursing Team (Green Cross). These details remind us that life is a journey and we are only travelers. May all your journeys be meaningful and sweet, Suze
2 comments:
Dearest Suze and Martijn,
Reading about your day-to-day challenges and the agonies and joys involved has also made us more mindful of the present and thankful for the gift of life. We are grateful to you for what you have taught us on your journey. Thank you. And know that we are there for you on your journey, if not at your side then closely behind.
We send you love and healing energy.
David and Nancy from Iowa
Hi, Folks:
I think it's so cool that the surgeon comes to your house ... that could only happen here at gunpoint.
Suze, your remark about shopping, household stuff etc. is well taken. Sometimes when I'm making my bed or doing the laundry or whatever, I say to myself, "Household gods," and it reminds me to savor these small acts as priveleges of life and not the chores we usually take them for. Actually, I'm about to go to the laundromat now, so I have to remember to pactice what I just preached.
A shining bright blue morning for my travels: laundry, bank, breakfast, supermarket, pharmacy, library. My friend Bob Harding in NY told me he's reading one of his favorite books -- "Life Among the Apaches" -- to his eight-year-old son, so I had the great library in Court House get it for me. Very quiet and empty down here now ... all the locals say they really like it this way, part of the love-hate relationshp they have with the tourists.
May your day be glad and full.
Love,
Bob
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