I Found What I Was Missing

Isn’t traveling the best. At the start I am filled with excitement and busyness and can’t sit still for a moment.
I want to go Go GO somewhere, I might be missing something and even if I don’t know what it is…I might be missing something!

Anywhere. That’s where I wanted to be, at the start. But after a few days I realize, I can’t see it all. Even if I had the strength of giants and the wind would carry me everywhere, I would miss something. Where is my strength? Where is my stamina? Damn these feets who are failing me now.

But that wouldn’t stop me. Still, I might miss something so I rush out and try again. And come back here to my brothers house, tired and somewhat frazzled and wondering what I missed. I should have tried to go to Berkley. Maybe I should have chanced a hike in San Diablo Canyon, or tried for Napa and Sonoma. Are the Raiders playing? What am I missing.

Then it occured to me. I knew what I was missing. I was missing the chance to be quiet. To rest. To relax. To watch squirrels climbing the oak trees in the backyard, the Deer and her fawn that travel through the trees out back. The warm wind that ruffles the pool water, pushing the ball around especially for me, the cherished visitor. The fridge full of delicacies picked out especially for me. The bird calls, the silence, the heat, the peace.

I wasn’t missing anything. Except maybe home.

Afoot and lighthearted, I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good fortune, I myself am good fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms
Strong and content, I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it’s impossible for me to get rid of them
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return)

Walt Whitman -from Song of the Open Road

The Family

My Love is Killing Me

‘The Water Lilies’
Monet

I just wanted to see the sights. Just wanted to do something. Just something normal.

Walk around. See a city. Plan my day.

With me there is, I admit, a certain desperation when I do this.
A conscious tenacity. A refusal to admit it might be too much. That I pushed too hard today. But I HAD to.

I can’t help it. I have to see it. I know San Francisco isn’t going anywhere and neither am I…but…I have to see it. It’s my favorite city in the world. I grew up in California. We came here for crazy weekends in my 20’s. I lived here in 1967-The Summer of Love, baby! I learned to throw a frisbee in Golden Gate Park, I can’t tell you how much I love this city.

If you’d seen what I had laid out in front of me. What a delicious fantastic brilliant choice. The America’s Cup is still on. I could sit and listen to the drum circle at Hippie Hill in Golden Gate Park. The San Francisco Botanical Gardens, The Musee Mechanique. The Ansel Adams Museum. I could go to Little Italy, Japan Town, the Tenderloin, Castro, Mission, Drive the Golden Gate, visit Napa and Sonoma, head south to Monterey…do so much, if only I had the stamina. If I could do it…I couldn’t. I just can’t do it. So I picked the ONE thing I love the best.

I went to The Legion of Honor

13th century all the way to modern art.

Picasso

Modigliani

El Greco

Bouguereau’s ‘The Broken Pitcher’

The suicide of Lucretia

Which is so beautiful that I had to serch out a photo on line to do it justice…

Joos Von Cleve ‘The Suicide of Lucretia’

Bugatti ‘s ‘Baboon’

I just couldn’t tell you, I can’t show you…you have to see it.

Obviously I couldn’t photograph any of my favorites properly. The colours GLOW! Centuries pass and they still reach out and grab your eyes.

I’m all worn out and PISSED OFF! Why did I take my one vacation in years and years when I am still so messed up? Why didn’t I wait? Why didn’t I wait until I could really see my lovely beautiful San Francisco?

Why? Because its what you do when you’re in love. You rush off half cocked and eager. Just to show your love. San Francisco…you’re killing me, baby.

But I STILL love you!

Sometimes I Think I Am the Cliff

I forgot my cane.

Don’t you hate it when you get somewhere and you realize you’ve forgotten something. I think, in my head, I thought I wouldn’t need it. Really, it’s a positive thing.

It’s hard to walk without it. I feel as if I might tip over. It’s more for balance than anything. So here I am in downtown Orinda sitting under a very lovely tree but sort of, kind of, unable to walk around.

This is a nice town, Orinda. I’m on a real live vacation. Even if I just sit a lot. But sitting? It’s not something I’m given to. The hardest part of my sickness has been being locked into a position of weakness. Mobility is strength and sitting is so anticlimactic. I can only observe.

So here I sit and wonder. Who am I? What a question to ask, so late in life. It’s something I’ve asked more often since…well, that day. January 11th.

I sometimes think that I am what I observe. ‘I observe myself observing what I observe.’ Nothing more. Is it so bad?

Sometimes I think I am like a rock that has chipped off of the cliff wall that is my mother. A scattered fragment, that’s what we all are, her sons and daughters.

So I sit here, lame, broken pieces badly put together. Not enough glue or not the right kind. Pieces of me, sitting there waiting to be put back in the correct spot. The correct way. Observing my failures, my triumphs. Some days it feels right and other days…I am just a piece of something that has more meaning than I can see. At least right now.

I’m like a deadly progression that has become more of a parade. More or less. So I sit here under this tree with my aching feet and my clinging to a cliff face balance, trying to fit myself back in. Join the parade. Stop the deadly progression. Wave a flag, but not that kind of flag. The kind that’s red. Not the kind that signals danger. No, my flag is just a flag. It says ‘I’m here. Come back, don’t leave me. Wait for me. I’m coming, too.’

I’m like the bull. I don’t know why I charge. I don’t. I just do it. I’m charging at everything that scares me. Even if its a leaf, a cloud, the moon…things that shouldn’t scare me. But I don’t want to miss them. If I go, will I miss them? Will I know? When will the fear stop? When will I know? It’s okay to sit. It’s not my last summer. It’s not my last anything.

That’s what I say to myself.

I’m am the cliff face now. I am the cliff. I cannot be broken, not completely broken.

The Americas Cup!

I can’t believe I’m really here!

My brother drove me right to Pier 23 and dropped me off. I wanted to go by myself because I am very slow on my feet and I have to sit a lot. I didn’t want to have to think about anything but the race. Not about bathroom breaks or who is hungry or where we’ll stand…no. I’ve been surrounded my well wishers and loving family for months and this day I just wanted to be for me. Be Little Miss Independent again. It’s a big thing for me. My brother totally got it.

I went to have a Bloody Mary and sit a moment to savor the rush of the race going crowd.

It was just as I’d imagined. Huge ocean going private yachts.

People from all over the world, speaking 20 different languages.

The crowd gave the Italian supporters a big cheer when the flag went by.

The race was on! It gave me shivers to see them sweep past me and disappear into the fog. We all hoped the fog would burn off before the 1pm race but it didn’t. Still, it was light enough that they didn’t call the race off. We watched from the pier as they vanished into the mist. I had goose bumps!

The turn was almost under the Golden Gate Bridge, which was miles away, but no one left their places, it got quiet as we all stood there, waiting to see which boat came out of the fog and raced towards the next turn, way way out in the Bay. It was the New Zealand boat, the UAE, first by quite a large margin. It made the turn near Alcatraz and began to race towards the next turn. I was cheering as loud as the next person and I didn’t even have a favorite. Yet.

It was awe inspiring to watch them flash out of the fog (sorry about the poor pictures but it was hard to stand still long enough to take them!)

Here’s one of me, waiting to see who was going to appear for the final turn and the win. I was right in front of the buoy to mark the winner!

You can barely see them, but it was UAE in the front making the turn towards us! You should have heard the cheers from the Kiwi’s!

Here are the winners making their victory sail past the crowd!

It was great to see them so close under sail.

The Louis Vuitton yacht going out to greet the winners!

Both yachts after the race.

I was pretty tired out, just from standing so long. I didn’t hang out too long afterwards. Got to the BART station and back to my brothers house. I had a swim and we had a bbq.

What a great day!

The Americas Cup Race…I’m HERE!

This is my 100th post and coincidentally I am HERE! It feels great! I’m sitting at Pier 23 along with 6,000,000 other people. (Thats a gross exaggeration)I’m looking at the boats-which are huge! and I’m planning my next big move.

Oracle

This was my next BIG move….

But I simply have to brave the crowds to SEE the races. Wish me luck!

Being Kind to Strangers-Day 2

My brother didn’t recognize me.

A long time ago, what feels like a long time ago, last April, I said when my treatment was over I was going to come visit. He lives near San Francisco. He has a swimming pool and an extra guest room. So I waited until I was sure I had some strength and I got a ticket on a Virgin Airlines seat sale. $79 each way. I was so excited. My first vacation since 2005! My first plane trip since 2002.

It was time.

Boy did I hate it. I had to use a cane and a wheelchair to navigate the airport. I had to use a face mask and be pushed to my gate. The flight was delayed by just under 2 hours, it was packed at the gate and there were no seats. I wandered past a person with their belonging piled on a seat and they just ignored me. So I had to ask if I could sit there. The person just picked up all their things and left. That meant that me and myself alone could sit there because no one else wanted to sit by me.

I couldn’t lift my bag over my head and the lady on the phone said to just ask an attendant for help. When I asked if I could get help, the lady at the gate said she would check it and took it away from me. And I’d packed so carefully to accommodate the convenience of not having to check a bag. Darn it! Narrow seats were the least of it, so I decided day 2 of ‘Be Kind to Strangers Day’ was going to be dedicated to not being grumpy to strangers, too.

So I smiled my way through having to say good bye to Mom and Liza miles before the gate and kissed their worried faces, smiled through security checks and the shoe thing, smiled at the x-ray and the guns and crowds at gate B11 and smiled and smiled and smiled by myself sitting with a face mask and gloves and, finally, sunglasses so no one would see me crying.

I smiled at my book I wasn’t reading. I smiled at the man who put his seat back abruptly and smashed my knees. I smiled at the poor fellow next to me who looked like a professional fighter and was far far too big for his seat.

I got to the airport and found a wheelchair waiting for me (thank you Virgin Airlines) and I got wheeled to baggage claim. I collected my carryon bag and sat down to wait. And wait. For quite awhile I waited.

Then I saw my brother walk right by me. Looking. But he wasn’t looking for this person. Laura wasn’t sick. Laura had hair and wasn’t in a wheelchair with a face mask. He was looking for ME. For Laura.

I love my brother. He knew about my illness. He knew what to expect. But still, I’m so glad there is someone in this world that remembers me. Laura. Plain old Laura.
I love that he will walk through an airport looking for ME. The real ME!!! That’s who he was looking for.

And so am I.

Be Kind to Strangers: Day One

It’s all good!

http://www.gofundme.com/3yfbqg

Today was my Be Kind to a Stranger day.

It’s a lot harder than you think. Especially when you look like I do. I look like I have cancer and I have people pushing and shoving to get a chance to be helpful. To be nice to me. To let me in front of them in the supermarket line up.

It got to be a comedy routine.

At Safeway, The bag boy carried my groceries out and wouldn’t even let me take the one with the bread in it.

Another girl who worked there saw me staring into the refrigerated case with weird juice in it. The kind that looks horrible and sounds worse. Kombucha Mushroom Mango Life Restoring Organic Reawaken Revitalize juice with chia seeds. Or something brown. A bad brown. And the label assures you that there is NO SUGAR. It’s ALL Green. It has Benefits. I don’t even have benefits anymore so I was thinking ‘hmmm….’ She offered to get me a case of it from the back. In an effort to be kind, I bought one. Fortunately, they were out of the Kombuca Mushroom flavor….but it’s on order.

Then there was the tiny little lady, about 93, who saw me getting laundry soap and offered to put it in the cart for me. She looked pretty good, though. I almost let her.

I went for a stagger along Winslow Way, our main drag, all 3 blocks of it, and couldn’t find a single person to be kind to. Everyone was perfectly happy and didn’t seem to need any kindness. I sat and drank a weird juice, the chia seed one, which was actually pretty good (97% Kambocha) but had a strange texture, like tiny little balls of jello were in it.

I had nothing to do now that my grocery shopping was done. No one was crying or even looking pensive. Lots of healthy, happy people walking in the sun. Cute kids all over the place eating ice cream cones and not even dropping them so I could get them another one. I briefly considered taking one off a kid and throwing it on the pavement so I could, but decided against it.

I went to the local espresso joint and got mobbed by people trying to be nice to me. Offering me their table, newspaper, water, a ride on a unicorn…what the hell?! I just wanted to help them. Be nice to them. Then it hit me. Oh…

I WAS being nice to them. By being there and letting them be nice to me. It was a strange feeling. Again. It’s not easy letting people help you. It’s a lot easier to help than to be helped. So I took the high road. I took the newspaper too.

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Trying to be kind…

I Know This Much is True

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I have the best people in my life.

I really do.

You’re one of them. You actually clicked on a blog post that has the word cancer in the title and you’re reading this. A year ago I would have sped past on my way to a food or fashion or funny blog. I really would have and danged if I don’t wonder now why I was so blind.

There’s some seriously good writing out there. People who are going through this in their own ways, with their own tales of bravery, pain, loss. Things that scared me. Before.

I remember clicking a link and seeing all the pictures of people. Families standing together in a big bunch with a birthday cake, wedding pictures of couples holding each other, young women smiling with their wind tossed hair and a bicycle. A teenager with a dog, a policeman, a baby..they were wonderful pictures. And then I saw what I was looking at.

They were pictures of the ones who lost. They were people who didn’t win their battle. Posted by their families who were struggling with their loss. They were posting these pictures to say goodbye. To show the world their favorite picture of the one who wasn’t there.

Oh. I was so scared. It was in the beginning. It had just started for me and I was so terribly scared. It was MY family, it was MY friends, it was a baby.

I ran away. I wouldn’t read or write or SEE anything. I just wouldn’t. Once I got out of the hospital I just couldn’t bear the thought that no matter how hard you want to win, sometimes you lose. So I stayed in my room and looked out the window or I would drive somewhere and sit in my car and watch people walking in and out of stores. I’d watch the trees start to blossom and the crocus coming out and I’d panic. I’d think ‘This could be my last spring. This could be the last crocus. I have to remember this. I have to SEE this. I have to.’ I began to understand that this was the same as hiding. Not seeing things the way the really are. I was fighting. I had a good doctor and amazing nurses. I didn’t have to live like this.

I took my courage in both stupid hands and I looked. I read. I saw. And most of all I felt what it was like. I saw the pain first hand up on the 8th floor every Friday. I read about it here. I write about it.

And thank you for being braver than me. Thank you for looking at my face and reading my words because I really want to win this.
It’s not just the sickness and weakness, it’s the way cancer will suck you dry until you have no resources and no money and no will. The gofundme website is helping me remove some of the stress of trying to get through the last few months before I can finally go back to work.

I want to thank each and every one of you for your courage, your shares and your prayers and your donations.

You can’t possibly know how great it feels. Or maybe you can.

http://www.gofundme.com/3yfbqg

Back in the beginning…

Dreaming and Doing.

http://www.gofundme.com/3yfbqg

Hwy 36 from Red Bluff to Eureka, Calif.

Hwy 95 in Idaho btwn White bird and Council, with a stop in Riggins to watch the fishermen in their crazy power boats fishing in white water.

Caves Highway to Oregon Caves Nat’l Monument off Hwy 199 in, where else? Oregon.

Hwy 101 from coos bay to Reedsport then Hwy 39 to Drain OR

Hwy 12 in Napa to Sonoma to Calistoga rd. Turn right and go to Petrified Forest Rd to the town of Calistoga. Right turn will take you back to Napa, left will take you to hwy 29 and Robert Louis Stevenson state park.

Hwy 101 to Templeton CA., take Green Valley rd west to Santa Rosa Creek rd. make a right and follow it to hwy 1 northbound to San Simeon and Hearst Castle, to Big Sur, Carmel, Pebble Beach, Monterey, San Francisco…all points north.

That crazy ass road somewhere right before the Redwood Forest Hwy. It goes up almost vertically and you can see for a thousand miles along the coast. Whales, pelicans…just sit and let the bike cool off and watch the sunset.

Lake Tahoe, Reno, Silver City, Mazama, the canyons of Utah, big sky country in Montana…dreaming of doing it again.

These are a few of the roads that I’ve followed on my motorcycle.
These are the roads I want to see again through my bug splattered windshield.
These are the travels I take at night. Lying in bed. Looking at the stars coming out through the trees. I am on my motorcycle. I’m leaning into a curve and I’ve got the throttle cracked, I’m in the right gear and the bike is as if it’s on rails…

I’m going to do those roads again next year when I am healed and healthy. I’m going to do it and I’m going to carry you all along with me.

Anyone want to go for a ride?

Thanks again for all your support and donations and shares and love and prayers.
You make my heart sing and my feet dance and my hair grow. Seriously. I have a fuzzy covering now. I can feel it.

Love you all!

http://www.gofundme.com/3yfbqg

New Eyes

The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes. — Marcel Proust

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This quote really made me think.

I’ve moved around a lot in my time. No fear. Never that. I had confidence in myself. I knew I’d find work, make friends, move into the cutest little apartment, get the most fun room mates, discover the best things about my new hometown.

It was a voyage of discovery. One I loved.

Then I found a place I wanted to call Home. Real home. Grow old, live there forever with my friends, learn the back roads and the short cuts. Who were the best cooks in town. Who to call when your car was making a funny rattling noise. I wanted to be certain that when that rattling noise that I ignored for weeks finally left me stranded on the highway as dark was coming on, that someone would stop. They’d recognize my car and stop and give me a lift. Someone would drive out and use a beer can and some wire to jerryrig my exhaust back together so I could drive my car again. Girls night out was Friday, karaoke and wing night was Tuesday. I could drive the hell out of winter roads, I knew how to drive on a frozen lake. I did doughnuts and blasted my music. Confidence. Certainty.

I didn’t want to ever leave.

My sister told me that it didn’t matter where I was, I was always going to carry myself with me. Happy or sad.

I didn’t care what she said. I wanted to go. Again. I wanted to be close to my Mom. I wanted to forget the man I’d left. This time it was an escape, though.

And given whats happened over the past few years, I’m glad I escaped. If I’d stayed I would have died on that bathroom floor. I lived alone 50 miles from the nearest hospital. It was winter. January. The roads would have been bad. No speeding ambulance would have come to save me. No emergency surgery the next day. I would have died.

And when my brother in law died in that crash in 2008 that damaged my sister, my beautiful sister, and almost killed his best friend, if I were still there, I wouldn’t have been able to take her away from all those painful memories that were killing her. I was able to say ‘Look where I live. It’s so beautiful. Mom is here. Our brother is here. Family. You aren’t better alone. We are here for you.’

We love each other. We miss Shawn. He loved her so much.

I had to experience such loss to see through my new eyes.

I lost my brother in law. I lost husband. I lost my health. I lost my Fridays and my Tuesdays out with the girls. I lost frozen lakes, hot springs in the snow, fishing and 4 wheel driving. I lost a whole community. I lost my place. It was good I left. It was also bad.

But it’s not too late. It’s never too late.

I never dreamed for a moment that I could find another kind of community here. One that is just as real. Just as kind. Just as fun. Just as eye opening as the one I’d left behind.

Someday, someday I’ll go back there. And I’ll take you with me. Because you are also my community. You live here in my heart. That’s what I like to think. I’ll go home and find my place there again. It’s home because that community I talked about, they’re here for me now. Almost a 1000 miles away, they are here, like you are, donating, sharing my page, encouraging me, praying for me. And the next time…I’ll know what I have. I’ll take my new eyes and I’ll use them.

Canal Flats

I’ll be home someday.

If you can donate to help me get this life back on track, to face my hurdles and start over without a mountain of debt and no hair I’d be so very grateful.

http://www.gofundme.com/3yfbqg