I took chemo pills each weekday last week. We know that my blood counts, especially my platelets, tend to go down when I take chemo. I'm getting blood tests twice a week to monitor this. Last Thursday, I was a little nervous when I did my first blood test after starting chemo, thinking that I might need to stop the treatment right away--but, to my surprise, the labs last Thursday showed that my platelets had increased a little, instead of decreased. I knew it could just be a blip in the testing, but I still felt celebratory about the increase. My white blood count also had an increase that surprised me. Today, I had another blood test--and my platelets had an additional small increase. It still could be a blip, but I'm still feeling celebratory.
A peer reviewed study in Japan showed that participants in a particular kind of forest therapy had a boost in their immune functioning. In the past week, I spent two hours every day in the woods next to the river. I like to think that my time in the woods contributed to a measurable boost in my immune system, but I think there is another force that had a much larger impact on my immune system, the unknown. This week, the unknown feels like an active, intimate force that is available for partnership.
No one knows why I'm alive and feeling good two years past the median survival for glioblastoma. We also don't know why I got brain cancer. Sometimes I'm tempted to think that I know what will happen, or that a doctor does. There have been multiple times now that I thought I would probably die within a few months. I was wrong each time. I want to be in humble, reverent, playful partnership with the great unknown, instead of thinking I know what will happen--not a faith that the unknown will always give me what I think I want, but a trust that it will always offer something offer something that can open us up more fully to life.
This past weekend, during one of my forest times, it was the first day this year above 70. I was next to a small lake. Each log in the lake was covered with turtles, sunning themselves. I'm attaching a photo of a dozen of them on one log. After months of a frozen lake, they must've been surprised it was suddenly sun bathing weather. I want to be as welcoming of the unknown as they were.
As the eager turtles were climbing on to and falling off the crowded log, I played the attached Cloud Cult song for them, in honor of their exuberant, communal relationship with the unknown:
May you find faith in the Great Unknown.
Lay it all down… in a calm, safe space.
And if the dream doesn’t come… just wait
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