SURVIVAL MONTH SEVEN: Moving Out and Moving On, Oy Vay!
Things are perking along here – hopefully in the right direction. Ben had his second month of normal blood counts and is feeling great. And he made some big strides in moving forward. For one thing, he will start a full-time job on May 12. He’s decided to stay in Gainesville and work at Infinite Energy for the summer. And he’s renting a friend’s room so will be moving out on his own into a (substance-free) house he’ll share with two girls. He is so excited about this. (Here he is dancing in our kitchen with his good old middle school friend Jackie the sub-leaser). Of course I am a little worried about his abilities to follow a budget, wake up to his alarm, and not drive his roommates crazy with his sloppiness (they’re girls). But independent living will be a good teacher – hopefully more productive than the nagging mom.
And of course I’m worried about the health side of things too. Part of Ben’s moving on has included jettisoning some of the support he had during treatment – his medical fitness training and qi gong to mention two. And he is a little more relaxed about taking some of his medications than I would like him to be. And, when left to his own devices, he eats pretty much the opposite of what nutrition experts of any ilk would recommend . . . I think he wants so much to be “normal,” and part of that for him is to put some distance between himself and the things he did when he was in treatment. I understand it, but I can’t help but worry a little. Hopefully this will work itself over time as Ben continues to heal.
Shortly after Ben moves out, if all goes well, our family will be moving too. We have held onto the Catholic Worker House throughout Ben’s illness waiting for clarity about what to do next. Running two households is so complicated and expensive; it’s just not sustainable. Selling our house will help pay off the debt we incurred over the course of Ben’s treatment, and will simplify our lives a lot. Our family will take over the second floor and Ben will have a room with a "private entrance" so he'll have some sense of freedom if he decides to move back in with us during the fall. While I sometimes think how nice it would be to take a year off major life changes, moving into the CW House feels like an act of hope. Before Ben was diagnosed, my heart and soul was in that house, and I felt it was just the right thing for me to do. I was painting the entry when Ben called for me to pick him up from school; his side was hurting so badly (it was his spleen, see “my story” above). It's still half-finished. I’d like to pick up that paint brush again, or at least give it a try.
The wisdom of the ages, our family counselor, and my favorite Buddhist nun all seem to concur that moving on is a good thing. There is that hope (faith, really) that difficult things can become transformed into something deep and good over time if you can avoid being mired in the misery of it all. I know, for instance, that none of us will ever look at someone struggling with addiction or childhood cancer with “pity” again. Pity infers distance, and we just don’t have that anymore. We truly feel the pain of people living with and through these things. Ben handles this by taking a leadership role in the NA community, sharing that part of his story and listening to the stories of others with compassion. He says he wants to work in the medical field some day, that he thinks he could be the kind of doctor families need. I like to think of that. Hopefully his family will find that kind of transformation as well as we move on with our own lives.
Our beloved family counselor has continually encouraged us to face up to our difficulties – outer and inner – to not be overcome by them but to learn from them. Sometimes we have listened; other times I felt I just stored up the information for a brighter day when it might be possible to think straight. He was understanding. He fully supported our decision to stay put during Ben’s illness since this house was such a source of security and comfort for Ben. But at this point, he thinks our moving on might help Ben continue to move forward as well.
And Pema Chodron to whom I still listen every chance I get seems to be talking directly to us when she says that an important part of healing is to “just keep going.” What she says about the struggles inherent in being alive and how even more complicated we make it by our own human foibles really resonates. But she discusses the whole mess in such a gentle and kind way, it makes me smile instead of cringe. She offers this advice from a Rabbi-friend of hers who agrees that it is important to face life’s hardships squarely, and to take responsibility for our own part in the difficulties. He suggests that, when things get to be just too much, we repeat this mantra: “Oy vay, oy vay, oy vay.” And then just keep going.
So that’s the plan, and the hope. Thank you for hanging in there with us.
