At my 7th infusion on July 27, my neutrophil counts were up to 1,700. Finally, I am no longer neutropenic!
Over the past two weekends, I have embraced life.
Red Ants Pants, in a cow pasture in White Sulphur Springs, took place over the weekend of July 28th. Back in April, and one month after diagnosis, Mike and I set this music festival as a goal to celebrate the end of “hard” chemo and before surgery and radiation. Even with the unknowns about how I'd feel after six rounds of chemo, the festival was set up for ease. People camp out in the fields surrounding the stage and it's easy to go back and forth between camp and the festivities. If I needed to rest, no problem.
My dear friends ("dear' is an understatement), Nicole and Becca, traveled to the camp out. Mike's mom, the mighty Reverend Gail, joined. And for the Bealls, my parents, Erin, and O and T came. We camped out in the "quiet section" of the cow pasture. Each day, the weather was in the high 90s. With no trees, the days rotated around the dust and the sun. In the evenings and as the temperature cooled, the music's appeal surged.
On Friday night, I was most excited to hear Martin Sexton and Allison Russell perform. When Martin Sexton came on, it felt so beautifully surreal. Back in March, getting through chemo -- and imagining what it would look and feel like --- was impossible to imagine and felt insurmountable. And in that moment, standing in front of a stage in the middle of a White Sulphur Springs' field, feeling the sun on my skin, and surrounded by many of my loved ones who walked every day with me, ah, it just felt free. I definitely shed some happy tears. Then I hugged each person. And then I laughed, and laughed again. Oh, to be alive and free!
After weeks of giving up closeness for safety while neutropenic and so I could get through the six cytotoxic chemo rounds on schedule, this whole Red Ants Pants weekend felt exactly how it feels to be young and alive. For these days, cancer wasn’t in the conversation and its presence wasn’t felt. Sure, I napped when I needed, but I lived. I hugged, danced with, and kissed my loved ones. My nephew and niece sat on my shoulders. I walked with my sister. We shared meals. We walked in the dusty fields under the stars.
On Saturday, Grace Potter was the closer. You know when you watch a musician perform and they make you feel like a better woman, just for seeing the freedom and movement of their performance? Grace did that for me. She started after 10pm, which felt a bit wild in itself, staying up so late. But oh, how we danced. Mike, Nicole, Becca, and I were close to the stage and I made sure to look at each of them and just take in these amazing people in my life. See their beauty. See their amazing presence. Walking the dusty fields back to camp, under the clear, starry sky, my legs and blood coursed with energy. I was exhausted, but the tiredness felt like an alive tiredness.
This past weekend, I went with Mike to Seattle for his cousin's wedding. The whole Greener clan was coming and I was able to meet his younger brother and his family. We shared an Airbnb and one of my favorite times were the post-meal talks, where the kids were playing and the adults sat around the dining room, just chatting.
The Greener women--Gail, Katie, and Brandy--assured me that the purple wig I had found was just right for the wedding. It was either wear a purple wig, or go bald, so either way, I would uniquely stand out. I loved getting ready with these women. Katie did all our makeup and spruced us up so well. I met the Greeners last fall and they have been such a constant, warm presence on this journey.
Once the music started, the Greeners showed out on the dance floor. Eric, Mike's younger brother, had his son Paul on his shoulders. As a group of sweet, quiet-ish 20-year-olds stood in an oval, moving slightly to the music but not really yet dancing, Eric and Paul burst into the middle and kicked the dancing into a beautiful dervish.
It felt so good to dance. I'm a six-foot women in heels with purple hair. I wasn't tired. I wasn't worried about people being sick around me. I just danced, and I danced exactly how I wanted. My limbs and mind felt unencumbered from the weight of cancer. I will never hold back on dancing again. Again, I felt young and free.
Before the end of the dancing, the wig had served its purpose. Wigs are hot, so I tossed it off and kept dancing.
These two weekends were defined by new experiences, new sounds, new time with loved ones. My energy is coming back and it feels so good to be able to be present again, to not have cancer overtaking my mind and isolating me from the present moment, conversations, and people across from me. Experiencing fun again was a liberation. Back in June, we went camping, but I felt like I had to be highly conscious of my energy, first before anything else. These two weekends, I rested when I needed, but I chose how I wanted to live--what I wanted to jump into to be truly alive. My fatigue and overwhelm did not get the majority of my energy. This shift is launching me into optimism.
I knew this before, but now it stands like oxygen. Relationships are sustenance and blood, solid ground to walk on and the breeze that infuses on hot, dusty days.
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