Distant From The Hope of Myself

A favorite trail near home.

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It's simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”

-Mary Oliver

My intentions with this online journal have not panned out well. My energy has been so very low that simple tasks are no longer simple.

Ever since my hospitalization for diverticulitis, any exertion at all causes me to loose my breath. My heart pounds irregularly and just walking 50 feet leaves me feeling as if I raced around a block. My cardiologist ordered another heart echo, to make sure the aortic stenosis had not progressed, but the stenosis is the same.

After mega blood draws and tests, I’ve learned I’m severely anemic. Extremely low hemoglobin and I have almost zero iron in my blood, so my internist has ordered weekly iron infusions for a month.

So once again, all of my other procedures are on hold. My lung biopsy (bronchoscopy) and my heart valve replacement cannot be done until my hemoglobin and iron levels are back up to normal.

This all points to internal bleeding, but I cannot get in for a colonoscopy and endoscopy until at least October. This has always been the downside of living where we do. The hospitals are very small in our area and most specialists practice downstate. They’re all booked out and a stat order from my internist does not usually mean I can get in quickly. I will have to wait a couple of weeks to start my infusions as the infusion center in our county is booked out with appointments. I could travel downstate for them, but that would require gas funds that we simply do not have.

So I wait. Since the onset of my breast cancer, it’s been an extremely frustrating waiting game. Each time I am mentally prepared to get a procedure done and just get all of this over with, another health issue pops up that requires attention.

I miss simple things like getting out for hikes in the woods, or prowling around the understory in search of flowers and mushrooms. This fatigue is unlike anything I have ever dealt with in the past. I can’t push through it. Once I loose my breath, that’s it. Game over. I’m on iron supplements, but as of yet, they haven’t helped get my levels up much if at all. They just taste nasty and come with a long list of uncomfortable side effects.

We finally took a short walk by our local river last week. I can normally walk the entire length of the trail in the photo above, but not this time. Regardless, I needed a change of scenery that wasn’t a medical office so badly. We all did. Mojo has spent far too much time with our dog sitter and my hubby has pretty much missed an entire season of his most favorite hobby of fishing. He doesn’t complain at all, but it makes me feel sad. It makes me feel needy, and that isn’t a comfortable feeling. Since I’m unable to drive he is pretty much the only support system I have, and my multiple illnesses have taken a large toll on everyone.

It’s a constant effort to foster gratitude, but it’s so important to my health as this medical rollercoaster leaves me feeling far too much negativity. Last week we had an abandoned black phase gray squirrel show up in our yard that was obviously too small to be out of the nest. It was struggling and starving. We had tried to catch young squirrels this size in the past, and it didn’t go too well, so I offered him/her some shelled raw peanuts and water. I feed it a few times each day and within 5 days it is much stronger. It no longer tries to climb our legs when we approach it and it is acting more like a wild squirrel every day.

Feeding in a rainstorm, day 3

It may not be much, but helping this little wildling regain it’s strength and growth gives me a sense of happiness. It is so very vulnerable at this size and I know that feeling too well when everything feels just a bit out of reach. I felt a certain kinship with this sweet baby squirrel that I have named Blackie. I want to do all I can to help it survive. I can only do so much with my own medical situation and often feel totally stuck on this rollercoaster, but I can and will help this little being thrive as long as his/her environment allows it to do so. Each day that I spot the squirrel still tearing around in our woods gives me hope and along with my iron, my hope levels have been a bit too low lately.

Peace.

*I have a GoFundMe account to help us afford transportation for so very many medical appointments and a mountain of medical bills. Any and all donations are appreciated as well as your good thoughts. My heartfelt gratitude to those who have made this a bit less difficult.
GoFundMe For Cancer Treatment