What's Next?
Today officially marks 6 months since my allogenic bone marrow transplant for treating Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. When I wrote my last post on February 13th of this year, I talked about my “real” which acknowledged the grueling chemotherapy treatments to attack the third recurrence, a miraculous remission and the upcoming transplant which was from a donor this time. I named him “Hans”, with a nod to his probable German roots. It helped to humanize this young man whose stem cells were collected in a bag and then couriered to City of Hope the next day.
I also wrote in my last post about how my “real” is a mixture of hard truths and optimism. Today should feel like a celebration, but it seems there are more hard truths to digest. I should personally have more optimism: although it was another tough, long and lonely recovery, “Hans” seems to have settled in nicely and so far I feel stronger every day with little side effects. I had so much support with family, friends, and the hospital staff who lifted me up when I started to sink.
And, luckily, I was discharged right before the pandemic caused a worldwide shutdown. Who knew the world would quarantine along me? Finally people understood want confinement meant.
We had such a beautiful Spring with birds and blooms populating my yard and the local parks. I captured hundreds of images with my new Nikon. After six months, although still mostly confined, with a little discipline and direction, I can start to dream and find new ways to pursue my writing and photography.
But because of the pandemic, the ever changing and sometimes arbitrary quarantine rules seem opaque and almost impossible for everyone else to follow. It’s been months of conflicting statistics and stops and starts. COVID 19 has cast a heavy pall of desperation and fear to work or not work; of confusion and frustration to either keep children and young adults at home or send them to school; of anger and bitterness over real and perceived slights, and of deep suspicion between races and political positions.
There is also the literal pall of smoke and ashes from our Southern California mountain fires, and the pall cast from death as bodies and coffins pile up and overwhelm the streets and cemeteries. There is fighting in the streets between groups whose missions seem harder to define and the homeless that are trying to claim even more concrete ground as they grow in numbers.
Although I’ve personally suffered and can express a deeper empathy to those of you who are challenged, I don’t live with your realities. My heart is broken for those that cannot help themselves or get enough support from others. So it doesn’t seem appropriate now to share all of my favorite images.
Instead I’ve excerpted some song lyrics and linked them to their complete verses and/or music videos that connect with my little reality as well as the larger view of what’s going on around me. You can interpret them to aptly express your “real.” Take a break from watching or reading the news and dive into these lyrics, or find the songs that resonate with you. Better yet, compose your own and share them with me!
No one knows when our world will open up and what it will feel like. And will I stay in remission and participate in the wonder of a full life? The most hopeful yet hardest answer to the “what’s next” question is only to keep moving forward, slowly.
This is the verse excerpted from the middle of“Freedom”, by Beyoncé’s “Lemonade” album, released in 2016. No doubt these words connect with The Black Lives Matter movement, but in a broader sense it can be used to celebrate today’s 100th anniversary of the women’s right to vote.
Freedom
Freedom
I can’t move
Freedom, cut me loose
Singin', freedom
Freedom
Where are you?
'Cause I need freedom, too
I break chains all by myself
Won't let my freedom rot in hell
Hey! I'ma keep running
'Cause a winner don't quit on themselves
This excerpt is from Kendrick Lamar’s verse rapped in the middle of the song:
But mama don't cry for me, ride for me
Try for me, live for me
Breathe for me, sing for me
Honestly guidin' me
I could be more than I gotta be
Stole from me, lied to me, nation hypocrisy
Code on me, drive on me
Wicked, my spirit inspired me
Like yeah, open correctional gates in higher desert
Yeah, open our mind as we cast away oppression
Yeah, open the streets and watch our beliefs
And when they carve my name inside the concrete
I pray it forever reads
The last verse from “The Boxer” from Simon and Garfunkel’s album, “Bridge over Troubled Water”, released in 1970, makes me think about being in the hospital, beating back the nightmare of past recoveries and fighting to stay well for the future.
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains, mmm mmm
These are the last two verses from “Losing My Religion”, from REM’s Out of Time album, released in 1999. The words ramble like the thoughts in my mind that spar over what to say and what not to say. The video is beautifully lit, raw and haunting.
(Note: “Losing My Religion” is a southern expression of losing one’s temper and sense of civility that sometimes results in anger)
Oh, life is bigger
It's bigger
Than you and you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
The first three verses of Agnes Obel’s “Fuel to Fire” from her “Aventine” album, released in 2013. The lyrics read like a lost romance, but the accompanying music video is a haunting mix of loneliness, loss, nostalgia and passion. Note the line: ‘Roses on parade’, a nod to our Pasadena Tournament of Roses Parade, postponed for 2021:
Do you want me on your mind or do you want me to go on
I might be yours as sure as I can say
Be gone be faraway
Roses on parade, they follow you around
Upon your shore as sure as I can say
Be gone be faraway
Like fuel to fire
Into the town we go, into your hideaway
Where the towers grow, gone to be faraway
Sing quietly along