de-stuck-ification

So I have this essay I have to finish for a class I already took but didn't finish, and I've been avoiding really digging in and accomplishing much. Now it's getting down to the wire and I'm afraid that I must actually write... Bear with me, please, as I babble. Or you can just not read this. Whichever.

Now we'll try a prompt... Why am I stuck? (Wait a moment while I find some nice background music for myself... my playlist? hopefully it won't get too distracting... otherwise I'll opt out for classical later....)

Why am I stuck?
aside from the fact that I've procrastinated... but then it comes down to- why have i procrastinated? enough questions.
my first thought is-- i haven't done enough research. i don't know enough about bone marrow transplants to write and essay on them. some little stubborn voice inside me says- so what! who said that a research essay about bone marrow transplants had to be just about the technical aspect? you've done other research- lots of it! you've talked to roo and interviewed her, gone thru emails, and watched her live the effects of the transplant and the illness that necessitated it. that is research enough for a pretty strong essay foundation. you have put a lot of thought into it all- even if most of that time, that thought has been in the back of your head. processing, as it were. okay then, so just get type and get those digesting thoughts digested and forming a final product- even if that product isn't pretty, it is much more substantial than it would be if it were still stuck in your bowels. (sorry readers for the gross metaphor/analogy-ing... that's just the way i've come to think, i guess. i guess it's similar to using roo's stomach hole as a body part when we played mad libs.) if you don't like the product, then flush it down the toilet. at least it will then be out of your system and you'll be able to to better digest other thoughts, hopefully producing something, though rough and unpolished and maybe even somewhat incoherent, you may still produce something worth revising and finishing. cutting chunks of something or other out of a big rock until you get a chunk that might just have potential, then scraping it around with your knife or whatever other tools you have, forming it into a lovely little stone to be quite admired. and so, don't be afraid to babble and produce some crappy work. there's a reason that rough drafts might just have the label "crap". so finish up the digestion process and produce some already!!
alrighty then, if i don't have to worry so much about the amount of research i've done (i could do tons and still feel uncomfortable), what am i worrying about?
and there it is... it's the fact that i will be writing about a dear friend. how do i do her justice in writing about her? i need to be honest- blunt. i need to get as close as i can to expressing truth, or rather-- to presenting truth, in such a manner that allows others to analyze it on their. and trust, that people will analyze the material appropriately and come to the correct conclusions. isn't that what good writing does? presents some material, then guides the reader to the well of truth, hoping that they may just partake of it themselves.... you can lead a horse to water, but you have to trust him to decide whether or not to drink.
okay, so the essay will be about not the oversweeping arching topic of bone marrow transplants in general- forget donnell e. thomas. forget the fact that the assignment was to write about something that happened the year i was born. put in italics at the top, if you feel you must, this message- "the year i was born, dr. donnell e. thomas recieved a nobel prize for his pioneering work with bone marrow transplants. this is a story about a recipient of the fruits of his labors- an evidence of the noble work he has done and how it has altered our world, leaving it better." then be done with all thought of trying to tie in your birth year.

a bone marrow transplant kept my friend here. for seven years. an early death, she knew was inevitable. if only i had known! if only i had taken the time and the courage to talk to her more about it! instead, i ignored the fact. disbelieved it. when she died, it slapped me in the face. her long fight for her life was over. i thank my God that it lasted as long as it did, and in the next breath, i think Him that it is over. most of all- i thank my God for the gift of my friend.
a bone marrow transplant brushes death. most of us walk down the sidewalk, see Death further along the way, and cross the street, hoping that doing so will discourage him and cause him to leave. a patient and her caregivers see Death not too far down the road, and realize that they can't cross the street to the other side. Death will come. so they mosey on up to him, look him in the eye, shake his hand, and say "please, go down the way a bit more and wait for me there. i'd like to walk along this sidewalk a bit longer." and then they keep walking, acutely aware of Death's proximity, but not knowing how far ahead he may actually be, or even if he is just walking by their side. is he laughing at how you boldly shook his hand? or is he respecting you for that boldness, and willing to wait for you to go with him a little while?
roo's bone marrow was Death's accomplice. first there was the aplastic anemia. (reference Anemia.) then there was the myelodysplasia.

i'll come back to this later. time for a break.

smiling

Okay, a few things on my mind, and as usual I'll address them here in a session of constructive babbling.

Last night was a neighboring stake's production of Savior of the World. It was really quite excellent. Unfortunately, not too long after it started did I begin to get a migraine (I should have listened that little voice in my head earlier that day that said "I think I'm getting a migraine"), and I also began to feel nauseous (as in, more so than my regular baseline nausea), so, out of the audience into the hallway I went. I sat against the wall and leaned my head on my knees, closing my eyes and trying to hear the performance. I could hear the songs (beautiful!) and the little kids running down the hallway. I think I remember sighing and having that feeling of frustration begin to well up inside of me. I was bothered by the fact that I couldn't be in there to listen to the play and have that oppurtunity to feel the Spirit. And then I remembered or realized something significant. I changed my perspective accordingly, and decided to allow myself to feel content. Even though I couldn't hear all of the performance, I was still perfectly capable of benefiting from the Spirit there. I decided to allow it to change my attitude and perspective- to get me in focus. To soak it up and help me to be more Christlike and kind.
I still struggled that evening (vomiting, friendship dynamics, migraining etc.) but found myself able to deal with it all and maintain some feeling of peace.

more later...

we thank thee for this pumpkin pie and eggnog

What to write? I've no idea. I just feel like writing. Okay, so to begin then I suppose...

Thanksgiving yesterday was lovely. I was, I admit, worried that everyone wouldn't get along, or at the very least, that things would be kind of tense.
It wasn't. Everyone got along and by the time we'd all been there for an hour, I was sufficiently relaxed and not worrying. Yay happy goodness!

I got to see my friend Anne yesterday, and found myself wishing that I kept up on my sign language more. I don't think I am any worse than I was last I saw her (about a year ago), but I am no better, and that is the frustrating part. (The fact that I was w/out glasses becasue they broke a month ago was hindering me as well lol. Could you fingerspell that again while I remember to squint?)
Communication. It is at the base of everything.
Interactions between people: words, sentences, talking, writing, eye rolling, shoulder shrugging, arm crossing, hugging, kissing, smiling, frowning, standing close, standing apart, sitting, shuddering...
Interactions between animals: meowing, barking, squeaking, growling, rubbing, licking, "marking"...
And then, even between inanimate things-
gravity's pull, electromagnetism, our own body systems: negative and positive feedback loops, hormones, cellular transport-- DNA and RNA being at the base of it all, controlling how the body communicates inside of itself and with its external environment (I think of homeostasis)...
molecules! atoms! atomic particles...

• transmit information ;
• transmit thoughts or feelings;
• convey: transfer to another;
• join or connect;
• be in verbal contact; interchange information or ideas;
(from here)

All of these things interact with one another, are joined or connected, convey, transmit... Communication-in one form or another- is critically important to this world. It is the base of life and order. Without it, everything would fall to chaos.

I wish I could communicate better with Anne. I wish I could touch deeper subjects with her- ask her about being Deaf, about her family, about her work, about people... I wish I could get her opinions on these things. I am skilled enough with my ASL to be able to conversation and to relay necessary messages. I am nowhere near skilled enough with it to be able to become acquainted with someone intimately- as I wish I could with Anne.
I'll have to exercise my ASL more.

I used to- so much more than I do. I still sign words here and there when I talk. I still have signs pop up in my head instead of words. But I don't, as I used to, practice. I would sit there and practice signs in my head. I would have a thought- and think of how I could best convey that thought in ASL. I would sometimes sign it to myself. I would sign songs while I listened to them (I still do that one from time to time). I would have, what seemed to me, very proficient and in-depth conversations with myself in sign language. (Yes, feel free to laugh at me. I am.) I can be quite comfortable signing things out... when I'm alone or with people less than or equal to my signing ability. Isn't it interesting how being around someone more proficient than myself causes me to doubt myself just enough that I loose some of my proficiency? (or, we could replace for that last word: confidence.)
I should work on that. I think I could converse with a little more ease about much more than just movies and food if I could over that.

Also, on my mind, is my health. Well, more specifically, my nausea. (Those who have weak stomachs/low tolerance for more in depth body discussions, would do well to stop here. Skip over. I'll let you know if/when it's safe again.)
I am a bit picky about where and when I throw up. Mostly because, I suppose, I am a bit self-concious about the whole thing. I don't want people to hear me, and aside from my immediate family and very very closest friends, I don't want people to know I am throwing up. Yes, I discuss it with relative easy, but it's much easier said than done (in more ways than one, actually).
At home, my family can tell when I'm throwing up not because of the duration of my bathroom-bonding, but because I turn on the fan. I don't really care much for the fan- I hardly ever turn it on after I shower- but I find it highly useful to helping me to feel.... I don't. Secure? Enough to proceed with my vomiting.
I have, at times, vomited in garbages because I figured they afforded me more privacy.
At seminary. We all know those girls who spend more time than they should in the bathroom, primping themselves for the day (we have, most of us girls, probably been one of them a time or two)- skipping class. Well, I usually don't care, aside from to roll my eyes... but I would like to add that the bathrooms at the church building where I have seminary are kinda small. And I'm friends with some of those girls. And they're really nice, decent people. So if I go in and start vomiting, it's different than it would be even at school because they will be concerned enough to ask me, multiple times, if I'm okay. And they'll actually be concerned about it- not just "oh no, someone's throwing up" but "oh no! cassanndre's sick! i hope she's okay..." I honestly, do not like the attention. (Even aside from the fact that I hope they're not all secretly wondering if I'm bulimic...)
Becuase of that, I have a new routine for when I have to vomit at seminary. I walk all the way around to the opposite side of the building- to the foyer where no one is. Then, grabbing the little garbage can from that foyer, I head outside- grab a twig to keep the door from closing all the way, set my garbage can down off to the side of the door (where passing people will be less likely to see me) and then proceed to doing my business. Bring the garbage can back in, go to the bathroom and wash my hands, go back to class.
Throwing up without worrying about anyone hearing me. Yay.
Except for the one time that were two friends of mine in that foyer. That was uncomfortable. They looked at me funny, asked if I was okay (I thought- wow! I actually look how I feel for once, apparently.), looked at me funny again as I grabbed my garbage can, explained I was going to go throw up and I'd be back (if the nausea had been any amount less, I would have turned around and just tolerated it until I got another chance later to throw up). That was fun. Thankfully, they had the good grace enough to not say much when I came back. I laughed a bit and joked about how I hoped that no one thought I was bulimic or anything- I just have health problems. (Yes, that's my way to make sure no one thinks I have an eating disorder.) I then went back to class. That was that.
Public places... I go to throw up in the school bathroom, but dangit, there's always a bunch of girls in there, so I either have to temper my throwing up (which leaves me still nauseous and with more coming later, undoubtedly) so they won't hear me, or wait until they vacate the place, or just go on with it as I would, hoping for enough toilet flushes, hand washing, and paper towel dispensing form them all that they won't hear me too much.
Being in public places with friends... ha. I remember coming out of a movie a couple times having to throw up. Excused myself to use the restroom (got someone to hold my purse for me once), and spent my fair time in there- grateful to friends who waited for me. Coming out, I'm sure I didn't look well- in fact, I even got the sympathetic look (more on that later, perhaps) from those who know me well enough to realize that I was probably throwing up. Some quiet are you okay?s came from those people as well. The funniest, though, I have to say, was when Derek was joking afterwards and asked if I had to throw up or something. I was taken aback, and still am not sure if he knew he was right, but I responded as nonchalantly as I could, "actually I was". Silence. Change of subject. I laughed inwardly.

(Okay, weak of stomach, 'tis safe again.)
The sympathetic look. Even though I don't like the attention being drawn to me while I'm not feeling well, I do really really appreciate my friends' concern. I appreciate it when I've told them that I'd be okay- go have fun- and they did. I appreciated it when one dear friend out of them all would stay behind with me and just sit with me, talk to me, while the rest of them went off as I wished they would. I appreciated it when, after having some more fun, the rest of my friends came back a bit earlier than normal so they could check on me, and decided to leave a bit earlier than normal on my account- but let me think that it was because they all got tired just a bit early. I appreciate the friend who I can call up when I feel like crap, and who will just talk to me about anything to distract me. I appreciate the friend who recognizes when I am really really not feeling well and makes sure to let me know I am cared about- without drawing everyone else's attention to me. I appreciate those who can tell, in one second, what everyone else can't. I appreciate those who respect me and understand when I don't want extra attention, and when I both want and need it, give it (sometimes without even being asked). I appreciate those who keep in touch. Who call me and invite me to hang out or go do something, even when they know I may not be able to, but make the effort just the same- reminding me that they still want me around. I appreciate those who are willing to just hang out at my house (or sometimes theirs) instead of doing something more- because they know that I'm too worn out. I appreciate those who ask me what I need from them, and then try to do it. I appreciate those who help me to remember that it'll all be okay, that I have the ability to endure it all and come out the better for it. Those who understand that I have to miss out on things, and rearrange things, and don't judge me for it. I appreciate those who listen to me complain and vent, and then help me to find my optimistic outlook again.

I appreciate this opportunity to see just how wonderful my friends are.

how are you?

It's really quite an innocent question. I promise. I ask it all the time, and then ask it again two minutes later because I can't quite recall if I had already. And for some reason, it seems vitally important to me that I make sure to ask someone how he/she is. If I don't, they might think that I don't care about them or something awful like that! Oh the horror... or something akin to it.

For as much as I like to ask the question, I have recently developed a distaste to people asking me how I am. I may even start replacing this question in my own speech. What does it really matter if I don't ask someone "how are you?" or "how's it going?" every time I see them? I do it only because I want to let that person know I care, and I really am (at least usually) genuinely interested in how their life is going. However, maybe I just need to trust that if I can express my concern some other way and get a conversation started, people will tell me how they are without even being asked. Especially if something is on their mind. Why should I force it? It will come out when it's ready, and the telling of it will (generally speaking) be much more beneficial in that situation than in one in which I poked and prodded for information.

But I digress. The reason I dislike people asking me "how are you?" is because despite being programmed by our culture to offer the standard "fine. you?" and brush over it as being just a formality, a common salutation;- I often cannot just dismiss the question. I feel an urge to answer it honestly, if not succinctly. I see the question as more than just culture-programmed-greeting, almost as rhetoric. I see it as a real desire for information (that is how I employ it). I see it as an opportunity for conversation and bonding or something cheesy like that. Perhaps I put too much weight on those poor three words. Perhaps it is more than they are meant to bear with each and every use. Despite this, every time these three words cross me, I can't help but think "But surely I owe you an accurate answer!"
It's not so much that it's a nuisance to try and give an accurate answer- I don't mind tangents, and summaries, and rambling stories (the sorts of answers one might get if people took the time to "accurately" answer our favorite loaded question). The problem is that as of late I never know what to say! I don't know whether to tell the truth, or to lie.
Yes, yes- my gut screams at me-- lying is bad! But honestly, if I were to answer truthfully everytime someone asked me how I was, it would very well have the potential to get depressing. The most promising accurate answer looks something like this:
"Oh, not too bad today, actually. I only have a little headache, and my nausea isn't all that bad today! If this keeps up, I may even brave solid food for breakfast!"
Less promising is something like this:
"You know what? I don't know. I think I might be getting a migraine. I also feel incredibly nauseous and might have to go throw up in a few minutes, which kind of sucks because then if I were to take my migraine medicine it would just come back up and not do me any good."
First place on the sucky-answer-o-meter would be:
"Not good. I just puked my guts out for the second time in an hour, and it was really hard work, so now my asthma's acting up and I have to use my inhaler, which is annoying because it doesn't seem to be working and the more I spray it, the more shaky I get- and I was already shaking and shivering before the danged inhaler! I also feel kind of light-headed, tired, and really weak. [there's a reason I'm holding on to this chair in between inhaler spurts. it's because i feel like i need the support, or grounding, that a chair can offer.] My headache seems to be less for now, but I'm wondering if that's because it's actually better, or just because I threw up. In the case of the latter, I hope I'm not getting a migraine..."

Yes, exactly- there is a very pronounced disadvantage to answering the "how are you?" question accurately.
I don't want to be the sort of person that always complains about her illness. I don't want to be making people feel bad for me every time they ask me how I'm doing. I don't want to revel in my health problems. It's just no fun- yes, even with a sense of humor it gets old!
But what to do?
My other dilemma is if I just say "fine", "good", etc. when I'm not actually doing "fine" or "good". In all actuality, I feel quite the opposite.
I can say I'm good, and really mean it- as far as my mental, emotional, and spiritual statuses go, and honestly, that usually doesn't get me in any trouble. Sometimes, however, saying I'm doing well can lead to some trouble. Especially when people actually believe me.
For example, if I don't manage to get something done because I was fighting the urge to reject my lunch, or the urge to drop everything and go find a pitch-black, noiseless room to go take a nap in, people may get upset and ask why I didn't complete such-and-such-task. When I respond "I'm not feeling well" they look at me dubiously and seem to be saying, "but you said you were feeling well!"
To which I almost want to put my hands firmly on my hips and angrily respond, "and you believed me?! I only said it because I didn't want to complain! I neever feel good physically. The variance isn't in feeling good and bad, but in what level of bad I feel and how tolerable it is and how well I am able to be my happy self in spite of it! Get used to it and don't get mad at me when I can't get everything done because I'm dealing with whatever health problem I have to deal with!!"
(What we have here is a failure to communicate. (One of my grandpa's favorite movies.))
But that would be unkind and uncalled for. But you get the idea. You understand my frustration, right?

I have lately taken to responding to the offending question in one of the following manners:
"I'm happy!"
"You know what? Life is really good."
"Hmm... I don't feel my best, but I'm doing quite well up here" (tap my head)

When friends ask me and I happen to be feeling worse than normal, I respond with my own little joke:
"How do you mean? Mentally or physically?"
this one usually takes them by surprise. I can see the gears churning in their heads as they think "is there supposed to be a difference?"
I laugh and answer my own question, "I'm really not feeling my best. But life is good, and I'm happy and that's what matters."
In these situations, I can't help but feel like I'm trying to convince myself of it just as much as my audience.

It really isn't that difficult of a question to answer- even with my dilemma. As demonstrated above, there are ways to answering succinctly, accurately, pleasantly, happily, and still fall within the realms of culturally appropriate.
Hi! How are you?

Nonetheless, I'd rather not bother.
Hi! I'm so happy to see you!!

in awe

I have recently taken to reading medical blogs, such as Code Blog, A Chronic Dose, and oncRN. They are terribly interesting to me, and have gotten me to think- so much so that I may even take up blogging myself! (not even just settling for posts of my schoolwork!)

On my thoughts today is this post by an oncology nurse.

i don't know what it is about this woman, but i know she has buoyed me somehow today and i feel grateful. why does it feel like she has taken care of me? ... as i go to leave, i want to say thank you...but that sounds weird.
so i just say good night instead.
see you in the morning.

I think I know what it is about that woman. It is her ability to see the world as normal while she is in a completely abnormal situation. It is her refreshing point of view. She is like breathing the crisp morning air. You breath it in- long and deep, savoring the smell and taste-, and you feel it spread from your lungs outward. It pushes out that stale lifelessness, reminding you to really live.
It reminds me of Roo. She had the amazing gift to be comfortable at the thought of her disease. It still caused her pain- both physically and emotionally, but she took it all in stride- accepting it as just another normal part of life. She didn't avoid or dodge around a topic. She lived loving people. She was happy- cheerful, joyful. If she had something she wanted to say, she would say it. She always spoke that way. She was the crisp morning air. She woke people up, gave them life, and reminded them to live it. Blunt. Realistic. Tenacious.

That tenacity for life- while being in constant pain, when isolated, and despite knowing that you may very well die- is contagion. It is what "buoys" the rest of us.
It is how the patient paradoxically becomes the caregiver.
It is that quality which boldly allows one's greatest strengths and deepest shortcomings to be equally displayed to the world.
It is what allows the world to analyze those strengths and shortcomings.
It is what causes the world to look on an imperfect person in awe.