Some Times Planetary Pilgrims Lose the Filter Between Their Brain and Their Mouth!

The pharmacist warned me there would be days like today. Some medications make you have up and down mood swings, and you might speak out of the wrong side of your mouth. Today, it happened.

My friend Sara kindly came to visit during the third chemo session this afternoon. When I told her my little story, she laughed and said "I guess you lost the filter between your brain and your mouth!" How right she was! How important those filters are, and how much we need them as part of the ever-so-essential lubricant in human encounters!

It all started in March, when lymph nodes were removed from my left arm. As a result, I only have the right arm available for taking blood samples, or for injecting IV medications. I am still getting over this. It feels like a big loss, and I might be worrying about it more than I thought I was. 

When my nurse tried to find a vein this afternoon I was somewhat anxious. After she had rubbed my arm for what seemed like a long time,  a   l  o  n  g    t  i  m  e,   I heard my voice saying very sweetly "You can't find it, can you?" (It was indeed my voice, I can confirm this!) 

Eventually a vein was found; I was gently pinched, and a needle was inserted. Shortly afterward it was taken out with the explanation that the vein was not responding properly. 

When one has little to worry about, one worries about little things. I could feel my stress level rising. After a brief dialogue about "what happens next?", my nurse asked a colleague to try the procedure. This second effort was successful and  we were off to the races.

I am mentioning this as an example of how simple my concerns are these days - whether we find a vein! Hello!!! Of course we will find a vein! 

Also, I am telling this story as an example of how one stresses over whatever - big or small - is on the horizon. 

A third reason is the lesson I learned  about "filters", as my friend Sara helped me to identify.

I need to stay alert, to hear my voice. I cannot always stop myself, perhaps, but I can listen. Today I was able to speak kindly to my nurse after my chemo, and to thank her for trying so hard to get me started. 

This evening I was reminded of a good Psalm for Planetary Pilgrims. Listen to a few lines:

"... You have searched me and you know me, you know when I sit and when I rise, you preceive my thoughts from afar. ... you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely. ... Where can I go from your spirit? Where can I fly from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me..."

I need to be aware of my humanity, cut myself some slack, even on days like today. I need to listen to myself, to be aware that before a word is out of my mouth, a power greater than I is present in the encounter. I need to listen, to trust myself, to be willing to admit it when I blow it, and to make amends in good faith.


Today I had my third chemo. Five more to go. Now I must go take my magic pills, to ensure a minimum of side effects. Tomorrow I get to go with two darling friends to Tai Chi at Hope Spring. Will tell you about it later. 


How lucky I am.We will see you again, listening and staying mindful, on the way to Santiago.