"Thank God."
These texts and calls have become commonplace in my life. My mom, a ten year breast cancer survivor will have to continue having these appointments for the rest of her life. Every year, I hold my breath and wait for the message to come through that she's in the clear...
The eleventh of March marked a month since I said goodbye to my friend Phil, and six months prior to that, we buried my friend/adopted mother figure Carla from the same disease. I currently have family members, friends, and their loved ones fighting with the same evil.
Mama Carla and her "Munchkin"
I think about a little over a month ago when I went to see Phil in the hospital. The boisterous laugh, the booming Australian accent that could carry across rooms, all of the life in him had already drained out. He was kept "comfortable" until his passing. I was at home when I heard the news...and I remember throwing my fists in the air and sobbing "Why did you take another one of my friends?!"
At the benefit for Phil. I played drums with some of our friends to raise money to cover his medical bills.
I know my story isn't that uncommon by today's standards. Nearly every single person in my life has been effected directly with this disease. But I know that my life has changed drastically over the last year alone because of it.
Three years ago, I started my extensive research on the modern medical industry, the food industry in this country, diet, nutrition, and exercise. This is an ongoing process, because there's always something new to learn about it. I learned that animal proteins feed cancer cells, and went ahead to make the choice to become vegan instead of a lacto-ovo vegetarian. I kicked my diet soda addiction. I attempt to be as perfect as possible in my dietary choices. It's forced me to meal plan around budget, nutritional value, and so much more. It was the wakeup call I needed. I learned that health starts with what your input into your body is.
I move. I move because I can. After seeing Phil on his deathbed, unable to do anything but sleep, I came home and did four yoga classes in a row because I was physically able to. If I have a body that is fully capable of moving, it is a slap in everyone's face who can't. It's a slap in my Creator's face to not use the instruments he has given me. I have witnessed "Use it or lose it" first hand.
I crow because I can. A year ago, I couldn't touch my toes.
I try my hardest to be present. I try to be in every moment as they are happening, experiencing the moments I will never get back instead of wishing for what tomorrow may hold. I breathe a little slower, chew my food a bit more, write in my journal to capture moments more...I try to put my phone down at home as much as possible (still working on that one) and swap that time out for snuggles with my dog or my partner. I try to wake up earlier to have a few moments to myself to breathe, to give thanks...thanks for waking me up again, thanks for getting me out of bed, thanks for the coffee I'm brewing. Thank you for this moment that I will never get back.
I've cut out booze. Watching your loved ones internal organs shut down before your very eyes will either do one of two things to you: drive you to drink, or encourage you to walk away from it cold turkey. Thich Nhat Hanh has a book about being present, in which he says that anyone who is drinking alcohol or smoking cigarettes is not present, because they are looking for a distraction from now. If they were present in the moment on all levels, they would not put such toxins in their systems, knowing it will reak havoc on their body. This has stuck with me. The four vodka sodas I used to have a week are gone, and I feel so much better. But the best part is that I feel like not only am I respecting my body when I do so, but it gives me the energy to move, to function, and I'm not distracted and trying to escape. Being an introvert in an extroverted world is hard. Having a few drinks to loosen up in public situations was my way to not shut down. It was a crutch. But, without it, I am forced to be present. And that is actually a gift in itself!
I try to do my friends proud. Carla especially (Mama Carla as I called her) called me her "Munchkin" and adopted me almost right away. She and her partner, Jim, gave me a key to their home, and quickly became surrogate parents. After Carla passed, people came out of the woodwork to talk about how every time Carla was with them that she would pull out her phone and tell everyone about her Munchkin in Nashville, and how proud she was of me. Her family members, hairdressers, and even waitresses at their favorite spots reached out to tell me after she passed that she would do this. I had no idea. I feel like now, it is my goal to live in such a way that she would be so proud of me, and is elbowing the other angels up there, saying "that's my munchkin!"
Jim, Carla, and I before seeing Ringo.
I am living more authentically. Phil touched so many people's lives and left such an impression as a member of his community. Carla decided to uproot her life and move away to pursue her dreams after her children were grown. She stayed true to herself...up to the very end. I try to emulate this about her in my everyday life. Because of them, I know that you leave the earth a better place or a worse place because of you, so you might as well make it better.
Phil and I definitely in the moment. Itchycoo Park's set on the Sunday from our last Abbey Road on the River...the last time I saw Carla alive. Phil had no idea he was sick.
I pray that one day the real cure...and prevention of this awful disease will be as common knowledge as what's going on in the world of the Kardashian's, but for now, it's not. But, what I have learned from losing two friends in six months is not only to take care of myself, to follow my dreams, and to eat my vegetables...it's that shit will always happen. That's inevitable. It's how we choose to deal with it that is the true mark that we will leave on the world...and I intend to make them proud.
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