Mick McKellar Update--Day +83
It was late on this sunny afternoon, when the intrepid walkers finally made an appearance on the sidewalks of Rochester. We walked down to the Domitilla Building on the campus of St. Mary's Hospital and visited the chapel. They call it a chapel, but inside it is as big as most churches. It was a special visit to a very quiet place.
On our way back from the walk, we recognized some friends from the Keweenaw, walking toward us. They dropped in to visit, and of course, we were out getting our walk on. We had a very nice visit and caught up on some back home news. What a precious gift!
We are still fighting the ever-present GVHD rash, and getting ready for tomorrow's early day and lots of blood testing. I am hoping the new medication stops the hemolysis, but I dread swallowing the thick, chrome yellow suspension. Ugh!
Oil spill?
Each time I take a pungent or awful tasting medication, I am reminded of those halcyon days with Dr. Mom. My mother's home remedy during cold weather was (you guessed it) a tablespoon of cod liver oil every morning. At the time, I thought nothing in the world tasted worse than cod liver oil. I was wrong, but I was well oiled at the time.
The worst part was that it coated the inside of your mouth and anything you ate or drank afterward, tasted like cod liver oil. We tried mixing it with juice and milk, but it would not mix and made those drinks taste oily and fishy. I always found it best to take it straight. At about age twelve, I could have coffee and that did seem to ease away the taste a bit. Now, at least, I have a tradition of standing up and taking my medicine to uphold...a helpful tradition to have these days.
Face off
Each morning I check my face in the mirror, for possible rash or changes to report. Each morning I am taken aback when my eyes meet the gaze of my reflection. For it is there, in that stare, that I find the most change. It is unsettling to see change there, but I do see it, every day. For I consider each new day a gift from God, and there is a joy and a quiet wistful peace that is reflected there, which grows with each passing day. My poem reflects my thoughts.
Thank you for your prayers and good thoughts. Special thanks to our friends to stopped by and visited with us.
God bless and good night,
Mick
And now: Eye to Eye
I must check carefully in the mirror each morning, to look for signs of changes to report to my doctors. Each morning, I search and each morning I find one unreportable change. I swear there is a different me looking back from the bathroom mirror. Oh, the face changes a bit, brought on by treatment with certain medications, and there is a bit of new beard to remove. But, there is something deeper.
It is in my eyes. Each day my eyes are frighteningly different to me. Having survived another day, and finding that God has granted me yet another day to live, brings a wistfulness and joy simultaneously that somehow deepens the depths of those familiar brown orbs and maybe the light flickering in those depths burns a bit brighter. Maybe I just expect to find fear, anxiety, and deep sadness there, and I don't find them...just the knowledge that I have another day to live.
Mick
Eye to Eye
The image in my mirror keeps changing,
Each morning, I rise to face a new face.
It's not that the parts are rearranging,
Or this morning, my nose found a new place,
Like somewhere behind my left ear to hide...
And yet, they are shocking to realize,
When I focus on the place they reside.
Look past the bright bathroom lights and the glare,
When I stare into the depths of my eyes,
And shiver, for that's not me standing there;
Though he looks like me, the right shape, right size,
But the eyes focus much farther away,
Grown wistful, deeper, and darker each day.
Mick McKellar
May 2011