Through these Eyes Part 56

Nov. 16, 1983... A guy called asking about Greece. His sister has cancer. . . much of her face was removed, as well as other lymph nodes near the neck; also one breast was removed. She "eats" through a tube in her nose. Boy, have I ever got it good. I'd kill myself before resorting to that sort of butchery. I told the guy straight truths as I knew them; I didn't feel the treatment worked for me, but others would bet money it helped them. I advised to really consider before going, as it was a difficult trip for even those of hearty stock.

Nov 17, 1983... I ate breakfast and shoved off around 8:30 for Dubuque.

It was a beautiful drive due to the mist-shrouded lowlands and the frost which lay over all things, both alive and inanimate. I saw a particularly picturesque scene, complete with grazing horses amongst the white gra.s.s, so I determined to pull off the highway and retrace the road to the best point. I had snapped two photos when a highway patrol pulled over across the road from me. I felt certain that I would defy my potty-training for a moment. "Is that your red car parked up there?" to which I answered "Yes" and a hasty, "Is it OK to be here?"

He had thought perhaps I had engine trouble and he was going to help.

I thanked him and he replied that I could take as many pictures as I wanted. I have a deep fear of cops which has no real basis, especially of late; I don't break the law by speeding. Rest-at Sharon's. . .

attended a weaving open-house.

Nov. 18, 1983... Sharon and I drove to Mt. h.o.r.eb after breakfasting at "Spikas." Again there was heavy fog and Sharon pulled on the headlights; I made a mental note of her action to avoid leaving the lights on for the length of our spree. Unfortunately, I misplaced the mental note, and the lights were grinning at us upon our return an hour or so later.

The engine was "deader" than a frozen road apple; luckily we'd parked along side of a gas station and the attendant promptly "jumped" us (or rather, the engine). It cost 2 bucks. Big deal. Sharon drove back after our rather short spree... I'd hastily gotten sick after drinking some tea. I left for home around 3:00. . . experienced fair amount of diarrhea once home... oh well ... we ate at Bishops for supper... it's Friday, after all.

Dec. 21, 1983... I talked with Mom for a good amount of time. . . I asked if she believed that I wished cancer on myself. . . I was past my depression when I once again found out the bad news; moreover, my depression subsided after some changes were made in my life. . .

quitting Sears and dropping a cla.s.s I didn't like...

anorexic tendencies had dwindled as I made those changes.

Then I asked if she believed that one could cure ones self through the desire to beat the disease. Question 1: Why would a person who didn't want a disease, contract one? Question 2: Why wouldn't it work for every one? Or would one have to believe. . ."know." . . .that he would be cured if he simply believed in such a thing? It helps to talk of such issues, for at times I do become confused. I feel instead that I have resigned myself to my problem realistically... I don't care for rainbow chasing. . . it's a long drive down the alley of blind hope.

I prefer not living in the shadows.

Dec. 26, 1983... Although it was not easy to attain, I remember feeling once that I had my life by the reins. I could do anything, because I felt I had control of myself. If I failed at one thing, no matter. . .

I could do something else and succeed. Now I feel trampled beneath that stallion of life whose reins I so confidently held; I have no control.

Even my emotions, which before I prided myself in keeping so carefully concealed, crash from my grip. Jon, too, is no longer in my grasp. He has grown more confident and self-a.s.sured, and I like what I see... but I feel as if he's no longer in my league... as if I'm trying to love a diamond when I know full well that I can afford only gla.s.s. It's never easy to lose status. I've lost so much that only a miracle of nature could allow me to recover my low self-worth. Jon deserves so much, and he has "the right stuff."

I feel so much better seeing him at home. I look as good as I can hope to look because I am able to get the rest I need. I felt like a shadow of myself in San Jose. . . a wound-up toy that kept walking even after the tension wore down.

Dec. 29, 1983... It's funny... Jon and I shared so much, yet somehow, nothing ever came of it. Perhaps the sorrow I feel is partially due to the knowledge that nothing can possibly come of it given the current situations. It's difficult to let go of the only lengthy and worthwhile relationship I've ever had, knowing full well that it's the last. I will never be in the situation to date... it's an added tension that I probably do not need, nor would I have the opportunity to experience.

It would be like buying bald tires for your new car... I'm "spent."

I feel that all I can do is to enjoy the time I can spend with Jon taking one day at a time in the same way I live each day as it presents itself. I can expect nothing, for to do so only makes shattered expectations all the more trying.

Jan. 4, 1984... It's rather entertaining business, this autobiography; it's fun to be able to sit back and remember the ways in which you saw the world as a child. Truthfully, my mind still thinks the way it did then. I've merely learned more, gained objectivity... but I'm essentially the same. Perhaps one changes more than he thinks, however, it could be that, so gradual is the widening of that perception, one is not really aware of the changes ama.s.sed in his brain. Nevertheless, I'm enjoying my writing, trying to include all material which is of marked consequence.

Jan. 5, 1984... Today was rather a wasted day in that I was unable to venture downtown due to the frequently repeated trips to the bathroom.

However, I did listen to the subliminal tape which Norm gave me for Xmas. It is composed of seash.o.r.e sounds and is relaxing. My tape is ent.i.tled "Phsyconeuroimmunology...Beneficial Influence of the Mind on Health," which was described as being helpful with regard to the immune system. Maybe it'll get rid of my "Big C"! That's a long shot but one can't just roll up the carpets and close shop. At any rate, it's cheaper than Greece and couldn't hurt. I'll just have to be wary of any cravings... if I suddenly get the indispensable urge to drink only c.o.ke, perhaps the input is an advertis.e.m.e.nt Ha!

I can never quite go along with the idea that one gives oneself diseases. At 13, I didn't know what cancer was, death via a serious illness was the farthest thing from my mind, much less my desire. I believe the reason I can... at times... accept my plight now is that 1. I've had it before.

2. I never really quite accepted the diagnosis that I was "cured."

3. I've been sick to my stomach for years following my first operation. . . I was never leading a "normal" life.

4. I've always felt "doomed" to a degree.

5. I've tried chemo and it didn't work; since I hold American doctors in high esteem, I am not as readily accepting of other country's "cures," especially if there are no facts to back up their claims.

6. I cannot live from one "cure" hope to the next. Disappointments become unbearable if that is all one ever encounters.

I can't believe that I would want what I have, given all of the suffering that I've endured. Sometimes I wish it could all end, either by my recovery or my death. Living half-way becomes difficult when one's prospects are bleak. If only I could be healthy... feel healthy... the things I'd want to do!!!

Jan. 12, 1984... I stopped at "Rags to Riches" and inquired whether they bought clothes which were second-hand, since it was a second-hand clothing shop. (So intelligent a question, no?!) She informed me they work on consignment. I have 16 prs. of pants that I intend to bring in. It is rather difficult to let go of those pants. I guess somewhere in my head, I hoped that I'd be cured and be able to fit them again. But the chances of that are slim. My body doesn't seem to be able to "get on" the road to recovery. I'd be exceptionally healthy if I wasn't such a physical wreck.

Jan. 15, 1984... I made breakfast for Norm and me... then we went to Wild Cat Den... we took a good hike back into the park... it was snowy so wore Mom's high boots. I really did well, I thought; I felt good.

Going up the steep grades presented a bit of a problem, but otherwise it went better than I had thought. (Maybe the tape's working.)

My slides are good! For my first attempt at still-life, I'd say I really did well.

Jan. 22, 1984... I made breakfast for Norm and me, then after doing dishes together, I got my camera equipment and we took off for Loud Thunder, around to Muscatine, and back to Credit Island. I used my sunset and graduated filters. We had lunch at Hardee's. Les came for supper. Mom had a roast. After everyone was in bed, Norm decided to cook up that brown macaroni that I'd bought last year while on the Alivizatos diet. I'd never gotten up the nerve to cook it before. . .

curiosity got the best of Norm. He put cheese in it to help the flavor, but actually the stuff wasn't too bad. It was more grainy because it was never processed. We watched "Funny Girl" on the late show but gave it up. It wouldn't end 'til 2:00 A.M.

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Chapter 37 Zenith of Grief

"I didn't a.s.sociate G.o.d with loneliness; the two were separate, and to bond them would have been inconceivable. G.o.d did not forsake me. I am part of Nature. . .this is natural, as is my grief."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Zenith Of Grief

I am beginning this new journal several pages before the old one expired! Perhaps this is because it is rather a new beginning for me.

One must bridge countless mountains throughout his existence, and some of those mountains are much more difficult to climb than others.

It has not yet hit me fully that Norm is dead, and this will be the hardest truth I will ever bear. It is through the selfish nature of human beings that we suffer and mourn over a drastic loss, for the deceased is no longer subjected to the routine pangs of life itself.

I derive comfort from the knowledge that Norm led the type of life he desired, for so many individuals spend time involved in relationships they despise, or in jobs they abhor. Norm didn't worry about attaining what so many casually label "success," that being a career that "looks"

right. Success is having established a set of values and living by them; realizing time is precious and therefore shouldn't be wasted on petty grievances and concerns. Moreover, a life having quality is a life which is peaceful. Norm led a quiet life, spending many waking hours doing that which pleased him. He was not selfish; one must please himself before he can expect to treat others civilly.

He was easy to be with, and would let you be... he wasn't out to force his opinions and desires on others.

I feel terrible now, but I know that my life was touched by a very special person. For that I shall always feel grateful. It is better to have had a beautiful relationship and have it end, than to never have experienced it at all. Norm was my mainstay in life. When things felt as if they were falling apart, it was always to him that I would turn. He was my companion and my best friend. We could share so much because we shared the same thought process. Seldom does a person feel completely at ease with another, and yet with Norm I was. Conversation wasn't necessary, but it was one of the finer parts of our relationship because we so well understood each other.

My life will never be the same without Norm; of all people, I feel it will be the hardest to be without him. My thoughts are so displaced.