July 7, 2002|

Artichoke Canning?

Recently looking at my garden, I concluded that I am not my mother’s son. Well, most likely, I am. I just didn’t inherit her talent for gardening. I think she bleeds MiracleGro. In utter contrast, when my plants see me coming, they hide underneath the mulch.

So it comes as no surprise that I have had few success stories in my first batch as Artichoke Canning- Gardner Extraordinaire. My petunias are looking spectacular, I must admit. But you really can’t screw up petunias. Everything else, though, is looking like death. My tomato plants are one step from shrinking into oblivion. My hiccus curly is shriveled like it was in the bathtub too long. And these little red flowers, I don’t remember their name, hang low like they are in mourning. I once read that singing to plants help them grow. Hmmm…I think that may quicken their demise given my voice. Hmmm…Maybe I’ll have to have Mom come out for a garden resuscitation trip. Ah, the joys of being a home renter.

King of My Colon? Not Yet…

It’s been almost three months since I have had a normal colon. Since then, I have dropped close to twenty-five pounds. In the words of one of my friends who recently saw me for the first time in months ‘You look like Billy! You’re so skinny!’ (Me: ‘NoooooOOOOOO!!’) After much procrastination and silliness (in my estimation) by Dr. Perales, I am finally taking medication to clear up the irritations in my intestines. I won’t delve any further into details. You know what they say about dinner conversations- to be polite don’t talk about religion, politics or colon activity.

Driving Miss Crazy

My Jesus Fish fell off my bumper just the other day. It was quite appropriate timing. Driving in New York City brings out the ‘best’ in people, including myself. I think God had been observing my driving and deemed me unworthy of such an article on my car. ‘You frickin BLEEP BLEEP! Get out of my lane!!’ ‘What are you doing?!? You just BLEPITY BLEEP BLEEP cut me off! BLEEP!’ ‘PEDESTRIANS right of way!! I’ll never be able to turn! BLEEEEEEPP!!’

Getting Special Love at Special Love

Last weekend, after eight long hours of stop and go traffic on I-95, I made it to Special Love YAC Weekend, a camp for young adults age 18-35 recovering or battling cancer. (www.speciallove.org). My friend Jen had been emphatic about my attending as a counselor for the little kids camp. I didn’t think I was just yet ready to be a counselor in such an environment. I still have way too many issues to work out. But I was game for going as a participant.

There was almost a cult-like feel to the weekend. Most campers had been attending Special Love for years, first as campers then as counselors. They all had very intense and fiercely loyal feelings for each other and for the camp itself. I must admit that I felt more intrigued watching the group interact (the trained social scientist I am) than I did participating. I recalled my studies of group dynamics, noting how powerfully one single commonality can incredibly unite a group, despite regional, racial, religious and gender backgrounds. Some had cancer when they were babies. Others were still in treatment. It didn’t matter and it wasn’t really discussed. There was no ice-breaking introduction of medical history or diagnosis (that was what late night one-on-one discussions were for). The underlying premise of the camp was known and understood. A given in the whole equation, if I must continue in scientist mode.

I had a few striking conversations and observations that I am still processing.

– In this cancer business there is always a factor of uncertainty discreetly hanging over one’s head. I had a great discussion with a guy in his thirties who had a very rare case of testicular cancer ten years ago. Recently he had an occurrence of pain, which he naturally concluded was a return of the cancer. Thankfully it was just a kidney stone. (Nothing much we said, just a kidney stone. Ha!) Probably the most difficult thing to deal with cancer is not the actual disease, but the uncertainty of it. If you know what and when you are fighting, you know what weapons are required, emotionally and physically. If those two variables are unknown, what can you do? It is truly a plaguing of the mind.

– One of the most troubling sights of the weekend was seeing a few of the campers smoking, especially a camper who had a sun tattoo on his back with the names of recently deceased campers circumscribed in the middle. I wasn’t personally offended by the smoking. Everyone has a coping mechanism for dealing with such stress, which is totally understandable. Rather I felt such sadness and heartbreak for them. Why put yourself through the rigors of treatment again? Why risk your spared life? Why increase the odds of adding your name in that sun?

– Perhaps most agonizing was my learning one of the volunteers of the camp is battling stomach cancer. I didn’t find out till the drive home. I thought she was a normal healthy Gen Xer. How much different my interactions would have been had I known! Ugh! I wasn’t mean or anything, but I would have been more upfront with my hope and my driving force. I would have asked her more questions on a deeper level. I would have… You never know! You never know.

I learned many a lesson that weekend. I also had some fun to boot. I hope to someday be a counselor at the children’s camp when my colon is functioning and I am catheter-free (no swimming or soccer with a catheter! D’oh!). I have a feeling I will one day be a part of that Special Love cult, if given the opportunity. You never know. You never know.