Around our house lately, things are shifting in a major way. We bought a new vacuum, I taught a week of dance classes (for the first time ever), I went without coffee or milk this morning (yawn), I've opened the facebook floodgates and allowed students to friend me (though I put them all on the limited profile list), I've been eating vegetarian while cutting back on dairy and alcohol for two days now (yum) while Leif researches juicers, and I found out that one of my oldest and dearest friends has cancer.
That happened two weeks ago, actually. She came over one day "just to talk," so I paced the dining room until her car showed up. I popped out of the back door to meet her and blurted something like "how are you? What's wrong?" and hugged her hello. She said not good, cried a little, and explained that she found a lump in her neck that was going to be biopsied (actually, a full lymph node was going to be surgically removed) and that the doctor was talking like it was probably some kind of lymphoma. We went for a walk and she explained everything she knew, what she was afraid of, what had been going on, and what possible medical procedures lie ahead. I managed not to sob until she left. The worst was the waiting--she had to wait until Monday to get a call about whether or not it was cancer.
They called and said it was Hodgkin's lymphoma. Then she had to get a PET scan (I went with her for that. We found out that she had to get injected with radioactive liquid and sit still without talking for one hour before the scan. It caused mysterious muscle cramping. Thank god for Tina Fey on Kindle.) Then she had to wait for news about "how far it had spread," which is the part that had me the most on edge. Turns out it's stage two, so that's relatively great news, and the prognosis is great. Then came the doctor shopping, the meetings about the next surgery (insertion of the chemo port), the insurance forms, the meetings with a fertility doc (chemo can kill eggs), and the home research.
I remembered seeing, long ago, this badass chick in her late twenties on Oprah who'd been diagnosed with a rare and untreatable (with Western meds) stage four cancer of the liver and lungs. This woman, Kris Carr, filmed a documentary about her quest for healing, and a lot of what she learned related to diet, lifestyle, and spiritual/mental health. At home, on my own, I googled her to try to find stories about her death. I thought aw, that was a long time ago and she was so full of hope. It's such a shame that she's probably dead by now.
Well, I couldn't find anything about her death because she's fucking healthier than ever. Her tumors have been stable for eight years. She's written three books and she's living her (plant-fueled, sugarless, active) life with her husband, who she met because he was the main editor and cameraman of her film. It could just be that she is really photogenic, but she's one of those people who looks like they're on fire for life, glowing in every shot. I went to a wellness website she started called crazysexylife.com and came across her video blogs. I watched and read as many videos and articles by her as I could find, and I netflixed her movie.
I slipped her name and some links to my recently-diagnosed buddy in that way that you let slip the name of an album you really love to a friend with cooler, hipper, more obscure tastes than you have: carefully and without too much enthusiasm and bossiness. She ended up liking her and gobbling up her stuff the way I had been doing.
Not to sound like a self-centered asshole, but when your friend gets diagnosed with a serious and adult condition, you tend to wake up a bit and see your own shit through a different lens--one that has arrived suddenly. Moping around the house and complaining of boredom or mind depression, for me, for at least the past few weeks, no longer holds much appeal (especially when there's not actually anything, relatively, wrong in my life). Beating myself up about shit I haven't gotten done? Kind of useless. Who cares. Trying to be perfect? Silly. Feeling like I'm constantly supposed to be doing something other than what I am currently doing? Insanity. Trying to be healthy and (sustainably, enjoyably) alive? Whoa. Top priority.
Wellness has not always been on my list of priorities. I remember having a bit of a lightbulb moment a few Christmases ago when I was lying on the couch watching free episodes of Everybody Love Raymond on a Chinese website and eating homemade goody after homemade goody. If you can even imagine this, I thought: this feels like shit. I'm eating dessert more than once a day out of pure addictive habit. I've always been a big snacker, but at some point (probably when I ran out of baked Christmas goodies), I quit buying chocolate or any kind of dessert at the store (Leif could have cared less either way, which was lucky). It was also around that time when I started spiking my walks with bursts of jogging. We moved to the Garden District. I spent a summer training for a mini-triathlon. I was then able to go for runs in my neighborhood without vomiting or passing out. I started saying yes to as many dance rehearsals as possible. I starting taking an occasional yoga/meditation class. I inched closer to vegetarianism and sought out dinner recipes that I later realized were vegan. I lost weight. I've been gaining "quality of life" steadily over the past two years.
The new info that has recently changed the way I look at food is about the importance of a healthy pH in the body. The body works hard to maintain a pH of about 7.36. Basically, most foods has drinks have either an alkalizing (basic) effect or an acidic effect on the body ("acidic" doesn't mean the foods contain acid, like lemons. It means foods that are harder for the body to break down, which cause the organs to flood the body with acids and enzymes in attempt to metabolize them). Diseases, allergies, cell abnormalities, etc. struggle in an alkaline or oxygen-rich environment. Anyway, the goal of eating alkalizing foods is to reduce inflammation in the body, and many doctors and scientists consider inflammation to be the root of just about every ailment. The rough news is that dairy, meat, alcohol, coffee, sugar, and processed chemicals create an acidic pH (so they need to be either minimized and balanced with a lot of alkalizing foods or eliminated). The Standard American Diet sucks. I knew that, I guess, but it's still overwhelming to wrap my head around.
Another thing I've been maybe figuring out is that wellness happens in the present moment. Moments of wellness can become days, weeks, and years. Lately, the things that feel really important are loving and cuddling boyfriend, friends, family and animals, dancing, yoga classes, running and walking, reading and writing, and cutting back on meat, dairy, sugar, coffee, and alcohol while adding more produce to my meals. I once thought I had a thyroid problem (bloodwork said no) because I was so lethargic all the time. In retrospect, the culprits were probably processed carbs, sugar, and lack of cardio. And large volumes of red wine and/or beer.
Basically, I usually have a lot of thinking and reading time on my hands over the summer, so lately, as a result of the things I've been feeling and reading about, I've been in the mood to experiment with food to see how good I can possibly feel. Leif is on board, bless his heart, so groceries are not a problem, and he is currently on the internet hunt for The Best Juicer. (Yes, I'm dying to start making those freaky green drinks.) My entire family might disown me for quitting coffee, even temporarily. My sister has been a vegetarian for like four years, so she's taken all the "you're being too extreme" heat already. I'm just a follower at this point. (But she still drinks coffee, so she's not labeled a total freak.)
The questions "Is this going to make me feel well?" and "Does my body want this?" have just shown up in my brain like boxes on a doorstep. I have no idea how long this presence of mind will last, but I intend on riding the wave while it's here. And mixing my metaphors whenever I feel like it. Shut up.
Now all I need to do is get off the couch, close the lappy, and shower. And one day--one day--I will write fiction again.
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