You know there are those projects you embark upon in life with a sense of bravado ... Some of these things start out as bets with your friends, others are simply a lofty personal goal ... climb a big mountain, run a marathon. Perpaps it's a high dive, not so high, not so low ... and all your friends can do it. You climb the ladder gingerly, big smile on your face, big fear fluttering inside you tummy. You climb higher, your hands are getting sweaty and shakey, but you flash you well-watchers once last blast of toothy courage. Maybe they're even chanting. You don't even like rope bridges, you think as you creep toward the edge of the 40-foot drop.
Coming to terms with the necessity of this Bone Marrow Transplant has kind of been that way for me: I know it's something I need to do, something I want to show courage doing and something I can be proud of at the finish. For months and months, it's been something off into the distance that I can read about and carry a very distant relationship with. I hear myself say, "I am getting a bone marrow transplant" and I don't recognize my voice. It gets carried off by the wind and me and my companion are left looking at each other like "Wow, what was that?," especially when I look and feel so healthy. Denial works well for things you can't fathom or understand and it also allows you to get the most out of your life while the living is good.
But, unfortunately, denial doesn't work forever. As time edged closer, I started to prepare. I started to make narratives out of my hidden dreads, doubts and fears and find ways to make sure that I would always end up the victor, because that's how it has to be. And, of course, on the practical side, I also bought loads of cool socks with stickies on the bottom, clean underwear, special creams, etc. -- So much stuff that it's still not all here. (So much stuff I'm almost embarrassed to have it be here.) And, I started to worry.
Well, now it's time for my big show ... You might liken it to getting called up to the big leagues ... Everything's just different. All other places, people on the street drinking beers, macking burgers, the woman jogging on 5th Avenue, most likely they're not thinking about life ending today. But here in the hospital, it's just a fact. People live and die every day and they do whatever they can to save them, but people expire. I have never been able to handle that thought too well, but the doctors and nurses are great ... They take it in stride and, when they speak of such possibilities, it's very relaxed and natural. Most of the time, they're even cheerful. I'm in good hands.
I don't know if this post is quite going where I want. It's just I haven't written in a couple of days because I couldn't write. I was sicker than I've ever felt plus the drug enduced haze that usually accompanies these things. Then the fever ... They brought a chest-xray to my room in the middle of the night, they took cultures ... They put a sign on my door that said anyone who entered must wear a protective mask. I was scared and then I thought why did I do this? I mean, really am I fool enough to think I can make it? And then of course, I remembered all of you. I guess the point is that I really can't do this without you. Thank you for continuing to love an support me.
Keep the words of support coming. Even when I can't read them myself Peter and Ian read them to me, so it make me so loved at some very low times. When I'm feeling spry, I will write myself when I can.
And, yes, I will eventually get around to jumping off that high dive, but you might want to stop looking up ... You'll hurt your neck.
Much love,
Katie
Comments (11)
Dear Katie,
What can I say? You took my breath away with your words. You have such a skill with words and such an understanding of this whole life thing-denial until you can handle the reality. I didn't get that concept for a long time!!!
I am really awed by your Spirit and Maturity.
I plan to hang in there forever and will keep writing you, hoping my words will send my true love for you.
This has been a time of retrospect for me.Writing you during the day, each day has brought back all kinds of fond memeories that we have made through the years and I'm glad for that. Life has distanced itself for us for whatever reasons and so I went into Denial, myself for awhile to not let it hurt so much or whatever. I guess I was at such a loss of what to do or fix it or whatever a Mom is supposed to do and it hurt. So I kind of shut down-DENIAL, my old companion. But the reality is that we both exist and share a past together and a pesent and a future. So I hope that these comments can kind of open up some kind of common ground for us for easier and more natural communication.
Thanks again for this blog.
Much love to you.
Mom
Posted by Mom | June 17, 2008 11:35 AM
Posted on June 17, 2008 11:35
Dear Katie,
I forgot to tell you that I tried the "HIGH DIVE" dare in reality once. I ended up giving everyone a toothy smile of embarrassment while I was coming down the stairs. Oh, well.
Love you.
Mom
Posted by Mom | June 17, 2008 11:54 AM
Posted on June 17, 2008 11:54
Dear katie,
Your POST was better than any letter that I have gotten. I will savor your words of wisdom for a long time to come. Bring on the POSTS!!!
Love you much,
Mom
Posted by Mom | June 17, 2008 12:06 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 12:06
Katie,
Today's post really inspired me. It made me think of a book I read last summer, "The Water Will Hold You: A Skeptic Learns to Pray" by Lindsey Crittenden. She opens the (non-fiction) book with a story about jumping off the diving board as an 8-year-old girl. Scared shitless, she remembered the words of her swimming teacher, "Go ahead...it's okay...the water will hold you."
It's normal and human to be scared right now. But just remember -- the water will hold you. Even if you can't see the water underneath you, know that all of us who love you are there...we are your water. We will hold you.
Much love, Mer
Posted by Meredith | June 17, 2008 12:54 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 12:54
Hey Katie:
After all of this is done, we're gonna take you on at the poker table! We played with Ryan and Karen last Saturday. They were like shooting fish in a barrel. Easy pickens.
Can we play online? Come on!!!!
All our love to you,
Jon, Jen and Charles Whalen Fojtik
Posted by Jonny | June 17, 2008 1:15 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 13:15
Oh and I forgot to mention that when I started this post, Ithought you were going to write about that bar on the Embarcadero. Of course, I was pleasantly surprised by the philosophical musings that I found.
Also: GO TIGERS! (heh heh)
- Jonny
Posted by Jonny | June 17, 2008 1:19 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 13:19
The very first time you and I talked we had a very intense conversation about what you could expect on this journey, and I remember getting off the phone and thinking you were so strong and knowing that your strenth was going to go a long way in helping you through this. Unfortunately no matter how strong you are, how old you are, and how loved you are all of a sudden you become a scared little girl again. This post put it into words beautifully. I think I told you that just like you I wasn't sick going into my transplant and I wondered many of times why I was doing something that was going to make me so sick and even though we know we did it for a very good reason it is hard to remember when your scared and dealing with a bump in "the plan" like an infection. What you have to remember is that your medical team was prepared and expected this and they deal with it in most transplants. I can now look back and see that while I was scared beyond belief they were ready for it. The anticipation and actual jump off the high dive is the scariest part, and while I haven't been on a high dive in a very long time I do remember the rush of adrenaline and the surge of strength at the end as you realize what you just accomplished. You will carry this feeling with you always and it will give you a new appreciation for life, and a sense that you can do anything you put your mind to. I continue to keep you and your family in my thoughts and once again please don't hesitate to email or call with any questions.
Posted by Brandy | June 17, 2008 4:18 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 16:18
Katie,
I'm sitting here reading your post with tears running down my cheeks- tears of how much you inspire me and how ridiculously strong you are! I feel so blessed to have met you and shared the experiences of the first few years of our kiddos' lives. I am looking forward to decades more of shared experiences! : ) Your outlook and optimism, while some days I'm sure are hard to maintain, are amazing and will help carry you through all of this.
Much, much love,
kate, adam and thatch
Posted by Kate J. | June 17, 2008 4:30 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 16:30
Katie,
You have to hurry up and get this transplant business over and done with, it's summer time and there's playin' to do. I've been riding Forrest over to the Nino's Unidos on 23rd and Folsom and then over to the mini park on 24th to play in the water. We pass by your place and Forrest recognizes it and wants to stop. Crazy eh? I told him Zach will be back soon. You better!
Life will be back to normal soon.
Curtis, Carolyn, Noah, and Forrest
Posted by Curtis | June 17, 2008 6:47 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 18:47
Oh, Katie! You come from a long line of women who have climbed that ladder to the top of the diving board. Listen in your heart and you will hear them cheering for you--
Your Great-grandmother Tynne Lindgren gathered her life's possessions into a single bag and said good-bye to all that she had known. Consider what it took to hug your family and friends for the very last time and sail away to America. I recently learned from the Ellis Island website that she arrived on the Lusitania. She jumped--into a country that spoke a foreign language, into an unknown culture--and she didn't sink. The water--her faith in God--held her.
Your Great-Aunt Hilda, Tynne's daughter, went to her first day of school unable to speak a single word of English. On that very day Hilda knew what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to be a teacher. Her life was a swan dive into all that it took for the daughter of immigrants to go to college and become a teacher. She taught me not to be afraid to jump.
And so we stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before, each braver than we understand until we are on the platform with the pool so very far below.
Be proud of yourself. You have lept! Sure, there are times than the wind will be knocked out of you. You will twist and turn in ways that you didn't realize your body could handle. But it will. You are surrounded by coaches and trainers at every moment. This dive is at an extreme level of difficulty. Yet, before you know it, you will slip splashlessly into the water, dive deep, and swim again to the surface, awaiting only the score from the medical judges. No worries--this is a gold medal performance. Hang in there, Katie! Everything in your life has prepared you for this great performance. We who know you are honored to be in your cheering section.
Lovingly, Eva
Posted by Eva | June 17, 2008 8:27 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 20:27
Katie,
I can visualize several high dive moments in my past. There were a lot of belly flops but a few decent ones.
We're not big on prayers in this household but we'll make an exception for you.
Love from,
The Monty Three
Posted by Kaye | June 17, 2008 8:45 PM
Posted on June 17, 2008 20:45