Wednesday, June 14, 2006

6.14.06, Come Back Tomorrow, more on Thomas's poem...

At this point in the afternoon I've just found myself engrossed in the last, and earlier promised, section of my exegesis of the Dylan Thomas poem. I figure it's still due and appropriate, and there are some insights from the poem's end that shed more light on the less than simple if not paradoxical nature of "not going gentle." Presently...

Franky Scale today: 6. Many sent encouraging notes along the lines of "get your ass up above 5!", my thanks, but you can look at this way. The rest of me, whatever parts those are, feels pretty good, but the goddam nausea has picked up with this cycle of chemo and it's just incredibly tedious & frustrating. It seems that nausea and pain have much in common, and can be so interrelated that the presence of either might cause the other. That's part of the frustration, the other is that even when you feel the nausea and know that it isn't pain per se it has nearly the same effects. You just need to get rid of it as quickly as possible, if it's intense; if it's mild but persistent, then it's like a hairshirt in summertime. (. . . though I have yet to be blessed with that experience.)

Maybe I should change my profile name to "piss & moan" . . . ;-)

I'll be back in the evening with some more poetic extrajesus, till then . . .

[Famous last words, for the day at least: I'll work on the exegesis but the evening is nearly spent, night opens, and I'm still in the middle of both dinner and the blog. Dinner I'll finish, the blog will have to wait till morning.]

4 comments:

wonderland said...

dont think i told you this before but i really like your blog name. that and what you said about Thomas intrigued me to look further into his life and works. his poetry is now on my summer reading list, right after Bate's book on Keats. funny how since may 24th, i panic and get anxious each time i cannot remember little things you said or wrote to me. Unlike your friends and families who have much shared memories and private languages, a few months' worth of conversations and mails are all I have of you. so my way of knowing you better without demanding too much of your time-eavesdropping conversations between you and your friends/families via your blog and reading those works you've mentioned. today, as i became a helpless witness to some crazy bus drivers who so recklessly maneuvered their way through tightly jammed Sichong streets, i wondered how it would feel like to be this nauseous topped with constant pain all day or week. but then, is this all i can do, reading about or imagining what it would be like to be you right now? really, is this all i can do? nowadays i tread very cautiously around words like wish and hope and yet i can't help but to wish there's something i could do to ease your pain and up your franky scale. is my asking too much for you? am i not hearing you?

again i live on top of the mountain, a perfect location for meditation and reflection. would it be to my east or west where you are?

Anonymous said...

wonderland - i think your sentiments echo the thoughts of many blog readers, regardless if we've known our dear blogmaster for several months, several years, or a lifetime. we all wonder - is there really nothing that i can do? truly there must be something that might help. love can heal a broken heart . . . might it do something to combat cancer?? but alas, the struggle is a solitary one even as i hope that Mr. J knows how much love surrounds him. we can try to do our small parts, and hope they help. i can't help with his nausea, give him appetite, or help him find the strength to run . . . but i can bake cookies and shop for new running shoes.

to borrow a line from a very dear lady, the original Mrs. J i suppose she would be, "i wish i could shrink him and put him in my pocket." it sounds a bit weird i know, but highlights the desire to be more than helpless . . . to be able to keep someone safe. so take heart, that we all carry a bit of him with us in our thoughts, dreams, hopes, and wishes.

tossing salads said...

thank you both of you. your words were heart felt and loving.

Slarry said...

A response to wonderland and Ms. anonymous on 06/14/06: written 6/15/06:

Last Friday, on 06/09/06, Mr. Jones entitled his blog; Some People Post, Some People Dream ....
and some take a peek into the blog, just to get a glimpse of what is going on with Mr. Jones that day-- have they missed anything essential? What are some of his thoughts, what is going on through that beautiful mind and heart of his today?
And then there are those of us, like me, one of his sisters, who do all three.
To wonderment and Ms. anonymous from above, as one of the people who has been fortunate to know Mr. Jones since forever, I wish to thank you for your honest, compelling questions and comments. But most especially, for your support and interest in my brother.
I know this isn’t my blog, but I found both of your comments to be especially sweet, honest, supportive and comforting, to me.

And as a member of his family, yes, it does take a little of the sting away, even if only briefly, to know there are others, apparently a bundle of people out and about, rooting for, listening to, supporting and caring for my brother.
He is such a good man--- and I too, can only echo your questions and sentiments. But as Ms. anonymous so clearly, yet gently put, and as my brother has reminded me-- no matter how much we care, love or want to do to help ease Mr. Jones’s pain-- his struggle is a solitary one.

I’m in total support of the baking of cookies, especially peanut butter ones, and Mr. Jones does love a good, solid running shoe. All I was able to do during his last visit, was offer him a great big, soaking bath tub. He loved it though.
The rest of the time and moments, were me learning to listen more, not just with my heart, but with my actual ears-- hearing him, respecting him. Like he said, he already knows how much I love him. I don’t need to always state that--- this next go around, I’m going to give Mr. Jones, a lot less words, and me talking, and more actively listening to him. Respecting his space--- he deserves all of that and more.

So, keep him in your “pocket” and carry him around wherever you go.
Again, thank you both so much.

Sheri