Multiple Myeloma Phase II
What the hell is that? Come on doc tell me in English. I can take it. Well! “I’d give you six days to live.” Later he said he would have changed it to that evening. My bones were being eaten by the cancer and soon they would be like “paper”.
In my superficial readings of the last few years concerning church leadership, I became inspired by how well our Cardinals handled the last years of their lives. Especially their illness and in many cases their cancer. They embraced it as Christians in a very humanly way. They left us a legacy of having died as Christians. I was angry with them for so many things, but in this one area I gave them very high grades. Models worthy of imitation. Maybe, I could do the same? Quite a goal! What a relief, no tension as to liberal or conservative, just follow Jesus and die like a Christian following in His footsteps. All my life I’ve claimed the name Christian and now the opportunity to live like one in these last days of my life. Wow! God is so very good to me.
I think there has been only one time that we as a family cried together. It was within that six-day window I had been allowed. I asked my kids, Tara, Mike and Tim along with their spouses, Jim, Debi and Jessie along with Kris to gather around the dining room table. It was a spontaneous and sacred thing. My “kids” are in their 30’s. I just wanted to tell them with all my heart and soul that I loved them and would always be with them. It was a gift of a life time. This month their love will have sustained me into its fourth year with my cancer. So much so that my physical fitness program this afternoon called for harnessing me and lowering me into the swimming pool. I did well.
What a wonderful journey this has been. Although the temptation remains about changing the ending. It seems like the more I’m given, the more I’m tempted to ask for. If that were granted perhaps I couldn’t love as much or recognize God in so much. I don’t always have the courage to seek the transformation of faith, hope and charity into the experience of the same where “eye has not seen nor ear heard”.
At this point, amidst the horror of cancer there are some glimmers of hope. I have a few things, which bring a few smiles. We were heartbroken recently when my best friends, Bill and Sue learned that Sue had a very deadly breast cancer. They have been heroic in their support of me. Although her chemo is taking place in a different hospital. There she met a former nurse of mine. Anette had nothing but good things to say about Kris (and me). Although, it was I who had the cancer, it was her that was hurting more. Her husband was returning to
I hope (and do) believe that Kris and I have never been as close. I laugh within myself when they speak of her as my caregiver. Well yes, caregiver on one level is an appropriate designation, but you got to be kidding. The love and care she has allowed to flow out of her translates into life, rich life for me. She has continued to unravel year after year the fullness of life, which is love, rich life for me. It’s not the gray hair that tells me so, but the unselfishness of every single thing she does for me. It’s not always fun to be bed ridden and dependent for almost everything that remains normal to others. However, there are those precious lighter moments, which make life bearable and holy. e.g. Nothing is funnier than the fights that take place in our kitchen each morning. Laura (my therapeutic cat) goes down to help Kris with my coffee. They each have their way of doing this. Laura likes to jump on the counter and assist while Kris gets the water bottle to see that she doesn’t. It ends with a stomach rub and cold coffee.
I know that my judgment by God will require a great deal of forgiveness for the evil I have allowed in my relationships of love and my failures. The Commandments will certainly have their day in court and it will not be the proudest review for me, but I have a great deal of faith and hope for how I will be treated. I will be judged within the fairest of all systems by the most compassionate of all who have ever walked this earth. I do not fear those aspects of my life that I have paid little attention to nor have yet had empathy for the hurt I have personally caused. I will not dwell here nor will I linger in areas that lack the graces that may soon be mine. (I started this at 3:14 and it is now 6:10).
I’m going to stop – the words are becoming shallow and without any substance – let me save you from me. I’ll return later.
CELEBRATION
20 YEARS OF SUPPORT
Several years ago the Seattle, Portland, Tacoma and Olympia married priests gathered together at my home to recognize our support of one another. Many of us had come from other cities but a good number were from the Seattle Archdiocese. Most were married. Both religious and secular. The priesthood was the commonality we shared along with our spouses. I would take it as a special inspiration that we started our day together with the Eucharist remembering those who had already died from our group. The Eucharist was unique in that it fulfilled a desire on our part to recognize the special link we maintain among us presently with the source of our priesthood Jesus Christ. A good number of us have already passed on to the life they spent teaching and motivating others to believe in. Since that day so many others have also left us. In most instances we again banded together in recognition of a life deserving of celebration. Tears were shed, prayers said, hugs exchanged, spouses and families supported and their lives reflected upon enabling us to continue in their footsteps, which had walked in so many uniquely different directions. Where was the priesthood of the second half of the 20th century to be found? In the homes of our neighbors, the positions of support and service within our community. Their jobs were teachers, civil employees, artists and professionals whose commonality lay beneath the surface of their skin within the realms of their souls and spirits. As husbands and fathers, children and brothers in their own families. and as success and failures to those left behind. In all cases having been called by Jesus to change the face of the earth. In life we had touched and embraced each other as friends. Soon, I will once again share life with them and within that community of saints I will speak well of those I leave behind. I’m getting too preachy. too somber, too cross my hands, kneel down and look holy. Not enough fun, excitement, joy and laughter. Cancer has come with an equal share of those things, as did our lives and ministries.
The Joyful Side of Cancer
Blasphemy you say. I agree. I thread on a slippery slope. With the havoc this horrible disease causes within the individual, the family, the community and nation as a whole how can we speak of joy. During that first six days I was given to survive I especially thought there was something sacrilegious in such talk. Now, after three years with some first hand experience of the rage which so frequently visits my body can I dare be so disrespectful to others bearing such horrible scars. I mean no disrespect to spouses, families, children or friends who experience neither joy nor happiness within the ugliness of cancer’s domain. You would have to be psycho not to do all within your power to seek escape from this monstrous world. However, isn’t there something out there that says His grace can be sufficient? Careful my lad! You have yet to be fully tested and yet how many times already have there been some legitimate questions of performance? I’d ask you at this point to spend some time with me at my blog (http://96ryerson.blogspot.com) where you’ll find some of those incidents of joy and laughter. I encourage you to continue to bring joy and happiness to those you find in the real life you live today. I hope you might more frequently find and bring Jesus into our midst. I ask for your encouragement to complete my book that I have halfway finished. As the disciples before us we need to record God’s goodness and love. It’s truly hard to believe.
A quick recollection of some of the no fun aspects of the past few years. Asking some of those I love to back off because I was being smothered and my doctor was telling me to take control of my life. There were no other options if I were to make progress. I was slowly becoming the bionic man – eyes were being replaced – cataracts out and problems with my retina still being addressed. Medications were constantly challenging me to answer the question – who am I? My urologist – wait just a minute – there are still things that are sacred and personal. Lots of humility. My feet, hands have become relatively inoperable and constantly painful. In the arena of the personal I am now one of the few guys wearing $500. Stockings. My oh my what good looking legs. I would be giving the Bette Grabels of the past a run for their money. I’m tempted to think at times my grand kids love me because I give them rides on my electric wheel chair. I’m fast and dangerous, but it’s the closest I come to driving these days. I froze my butt off last year at Halloween waiting for the kids to come by. Along with the goodies I take pictures and love it. The kids do also. My “port” operation was one of the best things to happen to me. I don’t know how they sustained the needles in the “old” days. I will not dwell on the one doctor who did some diagnostic work – the assistant kept saying “no doctor, that’s your left and not your right”. My God she was right. It was disaster Ville. I’m so glad we were not talking amputation. I could go on, but I’m already in trouble with Dave Gawlick for exceeding my given boundaries. It’s not just my mouth that runneth over.
Yesterday I received two emails. The one in the am told me of a Marriott friend diagnosed with kidney cancer and sent home to a hospice set up from Georgetown. Last night the second email said that he was greeted at the door with the words that Granny had just died. Isn’t it wonderful that we are left with the power of our prayers? To those who have prayed for me – thank you.
If I had died within six days I would not have known Zoe, Monty or Laura, my grandkids and therapeutic cat nor would you have had the opportunity to show me all the kindness you have.
Go In Peace
Deo Gratias.
Frank Kabisch
Email fkabisch@comcast.net
