Wednesday, November 25, 2009

November 25th, 2009:

For the past several days, I have been needing a huge amount of sleep, especially in the morning. I wake up in the morning, have breakfast, read the paper, and fall into deep sleep. At least until noon. Then, I start to emerge from my coma, dizzy and confused.

In this time, I have been conversing with my tumor to some remarkable effect. I've spoken before about how our conversation has been thin to nonexistent. There's been a change recently, where the voice is no longer a voice, it's more like a knowing, an awareness in my body. I started out demonizing this growing mass of tissue as having no nerves, no awareness, no cognition, rather just a selfish, mindless set of needs. Then, the tumor told me that it was fully aware that it would die when I died. It told me that it had intention and mission.

In a way that I'd never imagined, the tumor has a very firm grip on my identity, my ability to create and is in synch with my capacity to express myself. The tumor knows me very, very well. In fact, the tumor came into existence at this time in my life when I could express most fully my thoughts about death and dying after working in this field for the last thirty years. What a shock! It's one of the reasons that the tumor is not associated with a specific organ or tissue mass. It may have metastasized to hasten my death, but it is not a rectal tumor, not a rectal tumor, not a prostrate tumor. It is a discrete sarcoma, rare and self-defined.

Everyone who has learned something from this blog has learned something from this tumor. This tumor has come to life to grow through me to push forth a knowledge about what I know and what I have learned from death and the capacity of people to grow together in love. That's the message of this blog. That's the purpose and the message of this tumor. The knowledge of my learnings, the knowledge of this blog and the knowledge of my tumor are synonymous. Every time you remark on the gifts of this blog, please thank it. The blog is my friend, the tumor is my friend, I am your friend. Quite the dialog--no? It's like my conversation which started in disdainful silence has moved 180 degrees has grown into the richest friendship and joy. Amazing.

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