No profound thoughts today; just a little follow-up to my last blog, and a health update, for those of you who are curious. (Preview: things are fine.)
Politics: Just after I "published" my last post, I realized that my concept of a President's job has changed, and my current idea--that a President is, perforce, a leader rather than a policy-maker--is one of the reasons I support Barack Obama. Certainly, policy issues are important, and important to me. But no next President--not an Obama, nor a Clinton, nor a McCain--will be able to implement his or her policies without the support of Congress. Not even the most "experienced" President can enact a law. Those of us who want to see progressive policies implemented must work to ensure that we elect progressive legislators, and then be sure they know that we're expecting them to work on our behalf!
I was at the Obama rally in Madison last Tuesday. What most impressed me (other than the enthusiasm of the crowd) was his clear statement that we will change the political system only if we all work for change. I think he understands that he can propose policies, but he can't implement them without our help. But an engaged, active, electorate--energized and inspired by a true leader--can do almost anything. It's not at all clear to me that Hillary Clinton, for all her experience, has that kind of understanding of the political process. During her foray into the health care morass as First Lady, for example, she did (as I recall) very little to rally public support. And as a result, the well-financed (and apparently corrupt--check out what's happening in New York--see editorial in today's Times) insurance industry had its way.
Blog Sharing: Shortly after I wrote last week, a friend of a friend discovered my blog. She lives in Virginia and had just spent four hours helping to get out the vote for Obama. She asked if she could re-post my blog on other blogs. Of course, her email made my day! And she posted the blog entry on the Daily Kos and Obama's website, and sent copies (or maybe a link, I'm not sure) to about 25 friends. A big thank you to her, and to any of you who have shared any part of what I've written with other people.
Now, it's clear to me that politics is much more interesting to most people than death and cancer. But for those of you who are curious:
Health Update: I'm doing very well. The current chemo regime (oxalyplatin every other Thursday) seems to be working; I've outlived my prognosis and am growing stronger every day, thanks to a combination of whey protein and strength training at the gym. (Those body- builders apparently know what they're doing! But no, no anabolic steroids for me.) My breathing is much improved since the fall, though I'm not up to skiing or, as I noted a couple of weeks ago, swimming. If the snow would ever stop falling, and what's on the ground would melt, I'd try biking on the bike path, though!
The next CT scan won't be for a month or two. Dr. Holen, my oncologist, explained that patients sometimes develop an allergy to the contrast they infuse during the procedure, and the more times you're exposed to the contrast, the greater the probability of an allergic reaction. Besides, what matters, really, is the clinical evidence--that my breathing is better, my voice is no worse (and possibly better), and so forth. After all, the last CT scan I had, in September, looked pretty good. And less than a week later I woke in the middle of the night, unable to breathe, and it soon became clear that however small the tumors were, one or two of them were affecting crucial nerves. I think if (or when) the chemo stops working, it'll be clear to me and everyone else!
But I'm hoping that won't happen at least until I've had a chance to vote in November!
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4 comments:
I just listened to your essay on death on To the Best of Our Knowledge. I wanted to let you know how moving it was and how much I appreciated being able to listen to your thoughts on this most intimate topic. I am a 50 year old single, childless, alcoholic, atheist woman, unhappy in her relationships and work, who contemplates suicide frequently and who still has her parents in their mid 80s. My father is a camp survivor and is not afraid of death or talking about it. My mother is also an immigrant who has had difficult life experiences of her own, and she is afraid of death and does not want to talk about it. I long ago vowed never to kill myself as long as my mother was alive, as I felt that would be the most severe act of selfishness and disregard of my mother's love. I feel everyone else could handle it just fine. Your essay has shaken me up a little and is causing me to think more clearly and less recklessly. I have just discovered your blog and will be reading it. I apologize for not commenting directly on your current entry, but I wanted to contact you and let you know how your essay has touched me. Thank You.
Heard you on TBOOK this AM, Judy.
Thanks for your wisdom and courage
to share. As to whether we get to
vote for Barak ro Mike Gravel, I hope that both of us get to do so in November. I am too am an ageing
poet. If you want to see a wonderful poem, go to Poets Against
the War, type Iraq and read the poem by the soldier who was in Fallujah. I wish you the very best and again, thank you for the
depth of insight you brought to us
this morning.
Hello, Judy. I very much enjoyed listening to your wise words this morning on TTBOOK. Thank you for so openly sharing a bit of yourself with all of us. As a young, healthy (knock on wood) person, I am often guilty of losing sight of the Big Picture that is all of life on this planet, and our transitory place within it. Your words helped me rethink my perspective at a very good time!
By the way, I think it's too bad that you're not getting more interest from publishers in your recent poetry that you've mentioned in your blog. I teach a Death & Dying course, and I couldn't help but think of what a great addition to the curriculum that poetry like this would be.
i, too, would like to thank you for your wise words on TTBook. my father died just over a year ago and my grief is still raw -- exacerbated, in large part, because i work at a synagogue and am constantly surrounded by people experiencing such elemental forces. i worry about my own death (which i have no reason to think is imminent, but who knows?) mostly because i have a 15-year-old and an 11-year-old and can't bear to think of them without me. i went back and read your blog from the beginning and saw the post in which you expressed gratitude for the radiation therapy that allowed you to live long enough to raise your children, even though it caused the cancer you have today. when do you ever feel like your work as a mother is done?
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