January 30, 2014

After every infusion Michael cranks Jefferson Airplane, White Rabbit…preparing me for the rabbit hole. As the chemo takes it’s effect on my mind those words coming from Grace Slick’s lips swirl me into the depths of surreal dreams and cosmic despair.  Nothing is real anymore, yet, life keeps pressing on…

my children

my husband

my parents

my dogs

my chickens

my home

they still need my attention which I can’t give, nor want to. I have faith that I will come out of it, but when I’m there, I’m in deep.  

It has been two days since my last big infusion, and I’m waiting for the storm. I’ve strengthened myself with an IV of fluids, acupuncture, and reiki. I feel so close to the end of the chemo chapter, but I still have a ways to go. Cancer forces oneself to be in the moment. I look forward to having my mind in tact and growing some Hair!  I just don’t know what to do with my balded head (as Cassidy calls it) in the shower. Shampoo and condition? Soap? Nothing? I do enjoy massaging my noggin with hippy oil….a sensation I have never experienced. Or the feeling of ten pre-school children rubbing my baldness with their little hands, asking questions from the heart, so pure, open, innocent, wonderful! I love it, and not afraid to share the experience with anyone.  I’m even planning my token “Last Chemo” poster.  Me, my balded head, and my damn poster, holding it like a right of passage into the next phase of LIFE.  Anyone who goes thru this shit deserves to do anything from here on out and rock this world, no more stopping, waiting, wondering, questioning. You become a warrior….open, free, and stronger then you have ever experienced to make your life what you never dreamed it could be.

And here’s the song that makes so much sense to me now…………

One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small

And the one’s that mother gives you, don’t do anything at all

Go ask Kaci, when she’s ten feet tall

And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know your going to fall

Tell ’em a hookah smoking caterpillar has given you the call

To call Kaci, when she was just small

When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to go

And you’ve just had some kind of mushroom and your mind is moving low

Go ask Kaci, I think she’ll know

When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead

And the white knight is talking backwards, and the red queens off with her head

Remember what the dormouse said

FEED YOUR HEAD

FEED YOUR HEAD