Holy Reindeer Grail

This last summer my family and I started going to what I would call a 'second-tier' amusement park. When I was younger I remember going to a traveling carnival that passed through the forested area of Pennsylvania that my Mom's side of the family is from. That carnival was so unique to me - the site was placed at a meadow in the heavy forest, which I remember contributing all the more to the mystery because the night was even blacker for it and the lights even brighter. Me being the kid I was, I spent equal amounts of time taking in the usual carny amusement rides, food, games, animal acts and rides, and sideshow curiosities as I did sneaking under the flaps of tents, under floors of stages, and trying to find other mischief to get into.

The amusement park we now go to isn't a carnival by any means. It is closer to a carnival, however, in price and rides than the local Six Flags. And it is richer in history and, for us, richer in memories. Courtnie just loves it! It is such a different venue than, say, Six Flags. We run into people there who have stories that are very cool - like the story told by the carousel operator of the woman who has ridden that ride every year since it was installed - 1908.

I mention the carnival and our amusement park visits of last fall because on one of our recent times Courtnie convinced Kimberly and I that she "really, really" wanted to ride The Spider. We paid money to do this mind you. We excitedly waited in line and then strapped ourselves in.

You know those times when you sit there and think to yourself - Did I actually agree to and sign up for this? Am I paying money for this or is someone paying me? And, basically, what was I thinking? Well, at that moment, that ride on that day was one of those times - picture Courtnie and I, her very unhappy to be there, me helpless to do anything for her... there seemed to be no redeemable value to the whole thing. CJ cried and I did my best to comfort her. Then, finally, it was over.

The last few days have so far been that ride for me. This second round of chemotherapy has left me in pretty bad shape but I feel sure that what I'm experiencing truly could have been worse and is for others. As usual, the hospital stay wasn't bad except for the inability to get any real sleep. Each day became increasingly harder, however. Dr. Lee, on discharging me Friday morning, said that my Methotrexate levels were remaining high and he would be prescribing me an additional amount of the rescue agent - Leucovorin. On Friday I also received my Neulasta shot, this time in the arm tricep, in order to start the boost of my white blood cells to aid in recovery and immunity.

The "ride" really began after we got home and pretty much was bad enough to keep me from writing this until today, Sunday. I'm drawing strength from the fact that Courtnie, almost immediately after getting off of The Spider ride, turned to me and Kimmie and said "I want to do it again, but not today." Although you will not hear me say I want to do it again, I know that this ride needs to be repeated - and I'm thankful for a reprieve before I have to do course B again. For those who care about the components of this post-hospital ride: I definitely felt nauseous to the point that this time I took the pills for it, general flu-like symptoms but this time I didn't have a pre-existing cold to complicate things which was good, and lower back pain that I almost decided was significant enough to return to the hospital for. The Methotrexate can induce hepatitis and I didn't want to mess around too long with that. I debated only because I knew that I was taking the rescue agent and thought I'd give things an opportunity to subside.

Which brings me to a ceramic cup that I count among my favorites. On that cup are displayed several reindeer and the cup is clearly supposed to be a holiday cup, even though I use it year round. That cup, last night, became the 'Holy Reindeer Grail.' Later tellings of the actual Holy Grail story hold that object as a symbol of God's grace. Last night my Reindeer Grail was good enough and no less appreciated. My magic cup was full to the brim with green tea and within moments of consuming it the pain in what I think was my kidneys subsided and was gone.

During this time of struggle over Friday and Saturday I had the experience of reflection and quasi-dreaming that seems to go hand-in-hand for me with some trials and tribulations - particularly those involving lack of sleep or pharmaceuticals. Nothing like the fun of reading Stephen King's Pet Cemetery while on whatever they gave me to fix a bout with mono in high school, but that'd be hard to top! It is so interesting to me how there are boundless examples of traditions in which practices designed to fatigue or stress out a person are the mechanism used to create growth - be it mental, physical or spiritual. I think back to some of the unique experiences of my own life - a high-stress military exercise in ROTC training with 72 hours of sleep deprivation, a four-day 'vision quest' with the Jicarilla Apache Nation, the 27 miles in the open water from the Catalina Islands to the mainland, biking the length of Baja California. It is in those times when you really get clarity. And chemotherapy definitely fits the bill as well.

I don't think my reflection this time around is that interesting - really just too far out there in most regards. I suppose if I was the type who understood psychoanalysis or wanted to put a lot of stock in what is behind those self-reflective thoughts - it would have potential. But I'm not. What did strike me this time was the mental picture that came to me of watching the shards of something that was once whole, falling toward me from the sky above. I understood that those pieces were of something I held to be important. As I thought of it I decided that that thing was my life. And I am not thinking of that in the narrow terms of my ability to breathe and move but more of that more important concept of your life being not just you but everything about you - your relationships, your past and future, your successes and failures, all of that stuff that woven together is - no matter if you were cared for by only yourself or the entire world - an integral part of the flow of time.

And, of course, because both my brain cells lined up at that particular moment I asked myself what this meant even though I'm not one to delve into the "deep" meaning of things. And I decided this. First of all, a lot of broken things heal to something stronger than the "original." Second, I didn't survive 38 years without screwing up and, importantly, neglecting to fix mistakes. This chemotherapy has opened up an interesting opportunity to have myself broken, to hold on to those things which are good and make them stronger, and to see ultimately some of the things that need to be fixed. That said, I'm thankful even if the price of this passage is a little steep and the ride uncomfortable.