The Ups and downs of life as I live it

This week has seen some ups and some downs, but it's all good when there's an effort to live each day as fully as possible. Let's start with the upside, shall we?

1. Seeing former students. When we were at Moody Gardens last weekend, we ran into a former Rawls student from a few years ago. We met his new wife, discussed what he's been up to since graduation, and caught him up on all the things going on at Rawls. On Thursday, one of my fave students of all time (Chui), texted me to say that he had a long layover in Houston and wanted to get together on Friday. He was hanging out with the girl (now young woman) who he sat next to in my class, which they took in my second year teaching at Texas Tech. I see Chui often because he's from Lubbock, but I hadn't seen Allison since that class. We met for breakfast on Friday morning. We had so much fun talking and hanging out that it turned into a 4 hour breakfast. You know you are in good company when that happens!

So, why is it so refreshing to see my former students? It is so rewarding to see that they went off after graduation to work hard, have learned to be independent, and are enjoying their lives. Sometimes they will tell little stories from the class and point out things they remember, even though it's been almost a decade. I always walk away from these encounters feeling so happy that, no matter how minuscule, I played some role in their successes. It reminds me of that story about the starfish. A thousand or more starfish washed up on a beach and many of them were dying. A man saw another man picking them up, one at a time, and throwing them into the ocean. The first man asked, "What are you doing? You can't possibly make a difference! You are wasting your time!" The second man bent over, picked up a starfish, threw it into the ocean, and said, "I made a difference for that one!" I have always wanted to make a difference in the lives of my students. It makes everything I do worth it if one of them tells me that I helped them, no matter how small a role I played. It's also not bad for the ego to know that they actually want to hang out with their former faculty, regardless of the fact that to them we are "old people."

2. Mindfulness. If you read my blog, you know that I study mindfulness, mostly in the form of meditation and Buddhism. Just down the street from my Houston house is a church. Under the name of the church, on the sign, it says, "an ecumenical liberal baptist congregation." We've lived here for two years and every time I've walked to the park, I have passed by there each way. Not only has the sign puzzled me, but there is a labyrinth out front that I've always wanted to walk. Being raised Southern Baptist, I could not figure out how a Baptist church could be ecumenical (a term Christians usually use to mean cooperation and understanding between different religious denominations and used to signify the church seeks to unify different denominations into one), what a "liberal" Baptist church would be like, and why a Baptist church would ever have a labyrinth on the grounds. 

Jason and I have done two five mile walks since we've been here. We walk a mile to the park, around the park, and then back to the house. On both walks this week I've stopped to walk the labyrinth. If you've never walked a labyrinth, it is a very mindful process. You enter at an opening of the path, you stay on the path, it basically takes you through a maze, and eventually you come to an exit. Each time I walked it, I entered at a different place and have ended up at the same exit. You see, there are many paths to get to the same place. Keep in mind that the goal is to not deviate from the path. In order to achieve this, a person must be very mindful of the boundaries of the path and where you are on it. Every step brings you to now. Each movement brings you here, where you are. I watched the boundaries on each side of me to make sure that I was staying within the path. It was difficult to not look ahead and to just stay where I was each moment. I was so tempted to look ahead to see where I was going next and anticipate when I would "finish" the path. You see, life is to be experienced moment by moment without looking ahead and assuming we know what's coming next. Likewise, I found myself thinking, "Wait, have I been this way before? This looks familiar!" I then had to bring myself and my mind back to the here and now, trust that the path would lead me to where I needed to be, and just continue to move forward. This is exactly what mindfulness is to me, it keeps me in the here and now, reminds me to trust that all will unfold as it should, and to not worry about what has already happened. The labyrinth was just a physical reminder of what I'm already trying to practice, which is life.

My second lesson in mindfulness lately is floating. In 2011, I was teaching Services Marketing when a new business opened in Lubbock called Escape Your Body. The business, and many like it, have opened up all over the U.S. in recent years and they focus on sensory deprivation float tanks. Since this was such a new concept, especially in a conservative environment like Lubbock, I challenged my students to think about how they would approach marketing this service. The students challenged me and another of my colleagues to try it out. I wrote about my first experience here. Because I didn't really know then how to relax completely, I didn't float again after the initial experience (by the way, that business is still open in Lubbock and I recommend that you try it). My friend and colleague at another university, Ginny, has urged me for a while to try again, saying that floating has helped her with meditation, mindfulness, and healing. After some discussion with her, I decided to try again. I found a place in Houston called Urban Float, and I made an appointment. Because I had been practicing meditation and relaxation as part of my self care, it was a completely different experience. Ginny was so right! After my experience in Houston, I went again in Lubbock to Escape Your Body. I honestly believe that this is one of the best things I can do for myself. So soothing, so relaxing, so wonderful. 

I know I said this week has had ups and downs, so I guess I need to get to the downs. The problem is that the "down" also has ups and downs. Let me explain. On Wednesday we saw Dr. No Naps, the neurooncologist. He showed us the new mri results and said that it was "pretty much unchanged." Usually that would mean all is stable and we would probably be sent home. Then he started to show us the PET scan results. Remember that there were 2 problem areas that we have been watching for months and months and have had stable mri scans over and over. Usually the assumption is that if it's Glioblastoma, because of the nature of the disease, it should grow large and fast. I also previously explained that during the PET scan procedure, I was injected with a fake glucose (FDG), then the scan can show how much of the fake glucose is being taken up in each area over time. The red areas indicate tumor cells and the non red areas indicate "other" cells. As Dr. No Naps pulled up the pretty pictures, he said something like, "Well, I'm kinda glad we did this because..." I couldn't let that go, of course, so I gave him some grief about his use of "kinda," simply because that type of language is so tentative. Anyway, when he pulled up the scan there was a clear red circle on the screen. After a little more observation and explanation, here is what we learned from PET: one area didn't show up at all, so that's not a problem spot (yea). The other area was bright red, indicating active tumor (not yea). The radiology report said that the glucose uptake was indicative of "high grade" tumor, meaning it's very active and ready to grow. Fortunately, it hasn't had what it needs to grow and, therefore, is stable. Again, given the nature of this disease (that a tumor can double or triple in size in a few weeks), the fact that it's active tumor and hasn't grown is a mystery. Of course, we know how much exercise I get, how strict my diet is, my efforts to keep my glucose low, and all of the other behavioral strategies I use each and every day to keep this thing at bay. To me, this means just keep doing what I'm doing and don't stop. I also knew, though, that now that we know for sure that there is tumor in there, it probably needed to come out. Dr. No Naps then said, "So, what to do now..." I interrupted him and said, "I know what's coming. We are going to talk to the surgeon." He very calmly said, "Well, they want to see you on Monday and they already have a surgery spot reserved for you on Wednesday. These people know me so well that they knew I'd come to the same conclusions they did. Lois, Jason, and I all looked at one another and Lois said something like, "Well, this is not the news we wanted to hear, but oh well," I just stood up and said, "Well, we've been able to keep it from growing, the overall average life expectancy is 15 months, my subtype is 9 months, and I'm doing fine at almost 3 years out. This is just my life now, so let's try to get another year or two or longer." Dr. No Naps told me I was amazing, shook my hand, and we thanked him as we were leaving. On Thursday the surgeon's nurse called to discuss things, I told her I'm game, she reminded me of a few preparatory things, and we agreed to talk on Monday. We are now adjusting to the reality of a third surgery, writing out all of our questions for the surgery team on Monday, and working hard to have things as done as possible in advance. I went for a float yesterday and will float again tomorrow just to de-stress before taking on the week.

The few people we've told about this new development have all asked how I feel about this. Honestly, it's never easy to have surgery. However, I completely trust my team and I know they would not recommend this if it weren't safe and necessary. Plus there is only one spot this time and it's not even that big. It's also not on the visual cortex, so I shouldn't lose more eyesight. Speaking of eyesight, we saw the neuroopthamologist on Thursday. She said my visual acuity has not changed, but my left visual field hemianopsia has become a bit worse. The ganglion cells in the eye apparently atrophy over time if they go unused and mine are dying off. She said it shouldn't affect my functioning because those cells are already not processing effectively and that's why I have lost vision on the left in the first place. This new information just means that the cells are going to be permanently out of service eventually. 

Now for my gripes. First, I won't be able to float for a while because I will have stitches in my noggin. The incision will need to be completely healed before soaking in any water, especially salt water because the salt stings when it gets into abrasions or cuts. Second, they will be shaving the side of my head again. I already can't grow hair on the right side toward the back because it's been shaved and irradiated twice. This time I'm seriously considering just shaving my entire head. I mean, if you are going to be partially bald, you may as well just start over. Friends are already planning who gets to shave it and what kind of tattoo I should get on my bald head. Kim suggested that we crowdsource these decisions. I said that we should have a Youtube channel and broadcast it so that we could be internet famous. Jason said that I should make a video lecture for my online class where each scene is a different stage of baldness. He says I'd have the best teaching evaluation scores ever. If you can't laugh in the face of calamity, then you may have no choice but to fall apart. And, quite frankly, that's just not an option.