Friday, August 28, 2009

Momentum


No more feeding tube. For now. I hope never again. And nothing permanent installed either. But if it becomes necessary, I'll happily put it back in. My pride is not that great. It's simply wonderful to have a break from the ongoing noise of the pump and the constant toilet trips. Now I am sleepy. I'm catching up on REM sleep. Oh! but my eye doesn't look like this from lack of sleep!

After we removed the feeding tube from my nose, it was time to go up stairs to East 8 for PEG Asparaginase #5. During the long trek down the hospital corridor I had a bit of a trip and a fall. Flat on my face. So, in place of a feeding tube taped to my face, I had a big, black eye. Will there ever be time where there isn't something for people to stare at when they see me? Although during the worst of the black eye healing they were staring at Randin, too. People assume so much! Even Dr. Peterson teased Randin, to which I replied, "Hey, this happened on your watch."

How did this occur? How did I fall? A combination of birkenstocks, shuffling while walking, trying to keep up with the nurse (because I simply couldn't have asked her to slow down a bit), appearing perhaps a little stronger than I actually am, and momentum.

Before I go into momentum, I have to say that the aftermath of the fall itself was very exciting being in a hospital and near the emergency room. There were alarms, and lots of people rushing about, code this, code that. I didn't black out, I just kept repeating "I tripped on my shoe." You'll all be glad to know that after this incident I got new shoes that strap to my feet. Securely.

Momentum

Momentum is slow when you are in it,
but happens quickly when you look back at it.

In that moment of falling I had time to decide.
And to think.
I thought, now if I had just taken martial arts
I would know how to roll out of this fall.
As it is now—I'm going to hit the floor with my face.

And bear it.
And say, I tripped on my shoe.
Because I did
But it really happened because I was too proud
to ask the nurse to slow down.

Is there ever a moment when we aren't in the midst of momentum though? Moving like a wave in acceleration, and then slowness. Every moment, stillness bleeding into the next? What changes our trajectory? There where many moments along that fall that could have prevented the injury. First being, "Please slow down, I'm unable to walk that fast." All the way to regret " If I had just studied Martial Arts." And finally the floor. Funny that. Why don't I remember all the time that from moment to moment I guide my experience. What comes before me is a gift how I open it is entirely up to me. Momentum never stops it moves in waves however miniscule. I push it in the direction I want to go. This is my first black eye, now, isn't that an adventure? And now I've a story to tell!

Listening
Paying attention
Brandi, keep listening and paying attention.

There are fun places to feel momentum though. Where you can't miss it. Like in a count down or a count up. 3-2-1 PEG Asparaginase to go! I'm halfway through Cycle 7. That means 8-9-10 more Consolidation Cycles to go! I really feel so much better without the Doxorubicin. I wonder, will I feel better without PEG? With less Dexamethasone?

2 comments:

sashaearle said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
sashaearle said...

I wanted to edit my comment but they only let me delete.

Love how reflective you are Brandikins.

I accept you made the decision not to ask the nurse to slow down but also, and forgive me, what kind of a nurse jogs a leukemia patient up a hallway?... From this great distance it strikes me as odd, unless boot-camp nursing is all part of this experimental treatment. Dear Randin needs a tshirt that says "don't look at me, the nurse did it". If I was still in the print shop I could whip one up.
On other fronts I'm very glad you're coming off the hard stuff and I couldn't agree more about moment to moment living. Been reminding my own self of that lately. Its a good reminder.
Love you
XX