My Deepest Yearning By: Catharine Cooke

My Deepest Yearning

 

To wake up in the morning, sip warm coffee made from a French press. This, as I watch little birds’  flit and fly to the feeders I just filled. And hear their songs.

To settle into a painting or drawing until it’s time  to pause.  

Then take a long walk through our trails with the dog and kitty (who tries to act like she’s not following us).  See the long views and breathe deeply.

To write, work on an essay or poem and try to find words that are harder to retrieve now. To learn new ways of writing thoughts. To work unafraid and uninhibited.

Then to sleep the sleep of angels. To sleep deeply and wake up feeling strong and able and not wonder when the other shoe might fall.

To wake up in a world where kindness reigns and cruelty is banished. To a world of warmth and light. And once again sip another warm cup or coffee made from a French press.

It is a lot to ask.  I know.

 

Catharine Cooke

3/6/25

For Me Aging Is.. By James “Moe” Armstrong

For me aging is, learning how to live the my physical body deteriorating.   Nobody told me about losing my breath, equilibrium and memory.   Nobody told me about the bone loss and osteoporosis from hell.  Nobody told me about being numb in my hands and feet. Nobody told me about thyroid falling apart and dizziness and stupor.   Nobody even mentioned the fatigue.   And, nobody told me how bad the heart conditions would become.  I now have a pacemaker and more to come.

 

For me aging, is the need to prepare for the inevitable.  The body and mind deteriorate, significantly.  How am I going to live in the state of aging.  I don’t know.  What I am finding out is that hydrogen molecular therapy slows down and can reverse bad cell growth.  Whole body vibration plates send massage through the body to stop the arthritis and make life livable.   The National Institute of Health says that Whole Body Vibration also restores organ function.   I am taking hydrogen water to keep hydrated.  I blend fruits and vegetables to keep my nutritional levels up and have easy digestion.  Stay away from bread and sugar. Learn to meditate and pray.  Start to reflect on my past and tell my story through video dialogue and writing.  Sing songs about my new life.  Aging is a new life.  I am learning how to live the life of an 80 year old.   I am learning how to take care of myself.  Small walks twice a day.  More reading and no television.  Fresh air and sunshine.  

Fresh fish, turkey and/ or chicken.   No starches or sugar.   Spend more time with people.   Spend more time resting. 

Spend more time in reflection, writing and  storing the memories.   I would like to have a pet someday 

For me aging is …..

I Fear, Yet Still I hope

By Amy Sisson

I fear I will no longer want to dance, but still I hope to hear my favorite song.

I fear another betrayal from the facade of a “trusted” adult, but still I hope for discernment.

I fear more emotional distress, but still I hope for spiritual protection.

I fear my past affecting my future always, but still I hope for it not to.

I fear people will hug me even less this coming year, but I hope I can reach out first.

The Golden Healer

by Kim Downey

My vocal cord appeared to be paralyzed following a total thyroidectomy for thyroid cancer in November 2020. I described my voice afterwards as sounding like a “quiet one-note puppet.” As the weeks wore on, my despair grew. I love music. I couldn’t participate in my church choir, and I couldn’t sing Christmas carols. The single pitch I had remaining was higher than my usual voice. I sounded like one of the muppets and it felt embarrassing. I resisted speaking up in meetings at work and church, and minimized my participation in conversations with family and friends, a total “180” from my previously loquacious, and yes, loud, self. 

Look Both Ways Series : My Heart Won

By: Andi Straus
I’ve moved so many times in my life. My dear friend Jill says maybe it’s my Karma to move often, and she might be right, because once again I have moved, this time to a rental apartment that fills me with joy and hope and a measure of disbelief that I can still have something so beautiful in my life when my diagnosis is so grim. I’ve wrestled with the harsh voice in my head that says, “Who do you think you are to undertake something like this?

Reprieve - Part four of the "Looking Both Ways" Series

By Andi Straus

Some years ago I was afflicted with a benign ear condition which caused severe vertigo. I had rolled onto my side after savasana in a beloved yoga class, as I had done many times before, but this time a terrifying spinning world ensued. It lasted only a few minutes (although it felt like an agonizing eternity) as I lay absolutely still on the floor thinking something really bad was happening. 

On Radiation

Poem and Art By Kim Downey

Drive to the hospital. Give a sigh. Take a right into the lot 

Go to valet parking. Give them your keys. Take a ticket

Walk into the cancer center. Give them your destination. Radiation Oncology. Take your temperature

Turn to the reception desk. Give them your license/destination. Radiation Oncology. Take a sticker 

Proceed to the elevator. Give a masked smile. Take 2 lefts then a right to Radiation Oncology

On Moving and Home and Belonging

By Andi Straus

Maybe I need to move. Sometimes I want to move, feel driven to move. But I dread moving, the disruption, the expense, the uncertainty, the commitment. I want to feel at home.

I have been living in a senior residence since July of last year, first in the assisted living section, and then since September in the independent living part of the facility. I moved out of my condo in Fishkill last summer when I was so sick I couldn’t care for myself, but although it was a wrenching transition, I had never felt entirely at home there anyway. It was convenient and affordable when I was working, but I did not live among like-minded people, and my feeling of not belonging there was pervasive.

Part Two - Look Both Ways

By Andi Straus

Dear Friends, Due to some technology issues, I have been unable to respond to your lovely comments on my first blog post, but please know I read all of them, and am so touched by the honesty and vulnerability of what you shared, and how what I wrote resonated with so many of you. Thank you.

When people learn we have cancer…

 I have been thinking a lot over the past few months about the well intentioned things that people say to us when they learn we have cancer, many of which would have been better left unsaid. I have some sympathy for them because I know that in the past I have also felt that I don’t know what to say when someone delivers news that is so sad or frightening or overwhelming that whatever I might say would be wrong, inadequate, or trite.

Look Both Ways

By Andi Straus

I woke up one morning in August, 2020, with a curious pain in my side. More discomfort than pain, really, a little like gas pain but different. I didn’t think much of it, except that off and on I felt this pain over the course of several weeks. Something just wasn’t right. I checked with Dr. Google – maybe it was IBS? Pancreatitis? Gluten sensitivity? I finally made an appointment with my primary doctor who ordered a CT scan. All of a sudden I found myself on a cancer journey, a member of a club I had no desire to be a member of, in an alternate universe to the one I’d always known and had thought would last forever….