by Debra Jarvis
Our sex life is better thanks to Prince and Gun Oil, although I did have one very bad experience. We were coming back from a vacation and I unconsciously, thoughtlessly, stupidly threw the Gun Oil into my carry-on luggage.
“Ma’am we need to check your bag,” said the woman at the X-ray machine.
“Oh, yeah, sure. Is it my inhaler?” Sometimes my inhaler is mistaken for a small pistol. She dug through my bag and pulled out the bottle.
“Gun oil?” she asked loudly.
Everyone froze. I mean, everyone. Of course this triggered a hot flash. Little beads of sweat were forming on my forehead. Why didn’t I just turn myself in as a terrorist?
A big, burly TSA guy came over. “Dump out your bag.”
The woman was still examining the bottle. I leaned over and whispered,“It’s lubricant.” Our eyes met and there was a flicker of recognition, of empathy.
The burly man was just about to take the bottle from her when she snatched it away and said, “We have everything under control here.”
I still had to dump my bag and let them paw through nasal decongestant, a half-eaten protein bar, a hairbrush that looked like a Shih-Tzu, and a package of facial oil-blotting papers. Humiliating?
This is a test of the Universal Humiliation System. If this were an actual humiliation you would feel worse.This is only embarrassing.
Besides the above example, I continue to hear the Spirit’s voice in the most absurd circumstances: while getting a hair cut, cleaning the toilet, waiting at the checkstand, or peeling carrots.
I have stopped trying to please everyone. I took my lesson from Puna, and I am selective about where I’ll put my energy.
I truly have let go of my desire to have my sister and parents reconcile. I mean, I would love it, but my happiness is not dependent upon it.
And then there’s Max. Wes and I decided to write Max’s owner and make one final plea and offer for the precious terrier. I hadn’t let go of my desire for Max, but I had let go of the outcome. I walked to his house for the last time, notebook in hand to write down their house number so I could address the letter. I noticed no one was home, so I thought, “I’ll play with Max one more time.”
Just as we were finishing our usual game of fetch, his owner’s wife drove up. She got out of her car. “Don’t go!” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about Max.” Busted! In spite of the forty-degree weather, I had a hot flash.
She approached me with a big smile. I realized I wasn’t breathing. “So,” she said brightly, “Are you still interested in taking Max?”
“Yes, y-yes.”
She was most gracious as she explained that as a Korean, she did not share her American husband’s attitude about dogs as pets. Although her husband loved Max, they realized he would have a better life with me and Wes.
I picked up Max the next day and took him straight to a groomer who cut off all his dirty, matted hair. He is such a joy to us—you would think he had been ours all five years of his life.
It took us two years to get Max, and we received him only after I really, truly let go. I am working this realization into other areas of my life.
I light a candle every morning to remind me that on this day, I will bring light to the world. Just this one day.
Amen.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My deepest gratitude to Bill Bush, MD, who was the first guy to see my mammogram and say, “Hmmm.” Without him I wouldn’t be writing these acknowledgments.
Many thanks for the excellent care I received from Dave Byrd, MD; Frank Isik, MD; Hannah Linden, MD; Mary Migeon, MD; and Leanna Standish, ND. Thanks to Wesley C. Van Voorhis, MD, PhD, for answering all my infectious disease questions.
Deepest admiration and respect to all the nurses at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, particularly my chemo nurse Sherry Joseph, RN, who was always a calm presence and shining light. I’m grateful to Barb Jagels, RN, nurse manager, who said a swear word when I told her my diagnosis and encouraged me to write e-mail updates for the staff.
Thank you to everyone who received my e-mails and responded with,“You should write a book!”As you can see, I took your suggestions seriously, and I now encourage you to buy this book. Buy several copies.
To my boss, Rev. Dr. Stephen King, I can only wonder what you did in a previous life to have to put up with me in this one.You have been generous and understanding beyond belief.Thank you. I’m also grateful to my chaplain colleagues who covered for me after my surgery and supported me during and after treatment.
My sister Lyn Monahan and my parents Mary and Syd Jarvis know me quite well—and they still love me.Thank you for interrupting your lives and coming to Seattle to be with me. Your presence was healing.
Dad, thanks for telling me, “You can do anything if you put your mind to it.” Mom, thanks for always saying, “Be yourself.”
I really don’t know how I could breathe without Carla Granat, Trudy James, and Lisa Brihagen in my life. Thank you for bringing food, giving rides, sending cards, and doing energy work on me. My heartfelt thanks to Carla who read every single word of this book and was wonderfully honest. Oh, and thanks for holding my hair back while I puked in the salad bowl after the mountain bike accident. To Wes, I must express my appreciation for putting up with my long, loud phone calls to the above-mentioned troika.
Stephanie Donich, who started Cool Headz Hats, has been an amazing friend to me.Thank you for your support and sharing your MiraLAX with me when I was taking all that oxycodone after the mountain bike crash.
A very special debt of gratitude is owed to Sara Sarasohn at National Public Radio, who accepted my first commentary and encouraged me to write more of them.
If it weren’t for Sara, Gary Luke at Sasquatch Books would not have heard me on the air and contacted me about writing a book. Gary is a scream and a great editor. Gary, thanks for saying that you too felt there were “magic stars” around this book. Gary is surrounded by gorgeous women at Sasquatch Books. I’m not kidding. One who I know for a fact is gorgeous inside and out is Rachelle Longé, who has been an enthusiastic and insightful editor. Thanks also to Sarah Hanson, Tara Spicer, and the rest of the Sasquatchettes.
Deepest gratitude to Tess Gallagher, who built a fire under me that weekend and got the book really going way before Gary ever called me. I’m grateful for your love, friendship, guidance, and generosity. Your poetry feeds my soul.
Thank you, Joan De Claire for your proposition on the preposition. You are a skilled writer and a wonderful friend.
I hold a special place in my heart for the folks at University Congregational United Church of Christ, where I am recognized as specialized minister and something of a nutcase.Your support of my ministry and me is deeply appreciated.
I’m grateful to our dog Max for his unconditional love. It may seem weird to thank him in print because I know he can’t read—yet. He’s very smart.
And finally, I express my humble gratitude to all patients, family members, and staff. You continue to teach me more than you will ever know.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debra Jarvis is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. She has worked as a hospice spiritual counselor and currently serves as a general oncology chaplain for the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. She is a commentator for National Public Radio and frequently speaks at conferences and workshops on cancer, death and dying, medical staff care, spirituality, and the importance of quality chocolate.
Jarvis received her Master’s in Divinity from Northwest Theological Union, Seattle; an MA in Christian Arts from New College, Berkeley; and a BA in Communications from UC Berkeley. She is board certified through the Association for Professional Chaplains (APC) and is a Certified Thanatologist through the Association for Death Education and Counseling (ADEC).
Jarvis is the author of The Journey Through AIDS: A Guide For Loved Ones and Caregivers (Lion, 1992); HIV Positive, Living With AIDS (Lion, 1990); and Take It Again—From The Top (Lion, 1986). She wrote and dir
ected the play Don’t Think About Monkeys , which toured Washington State with support from the White Horse Foundation.
She lives in Seattle with her husband Wes Van Voorhis and Max, their mighty cairn terrier. Visit Jarvis’s Web site at www.debrajarvis.com and her blog at www.itsnotaboutthehair.blogspot. com.
The author is donating a percentage of the proceeds from this book to the Healing Journeys “Cancer as a Turning Point” conference and to the Harmony Hill Retreat Center, which provides free conferences and retreats for cancer survivors, patients, loved ones, and caregivers.
These stories are true, but all names and identifying characteristics of patients have been changed to ensure confidentiality.
Copyright © 2007 by Debra Jarvis
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jarvis, Debra.
It’s not about the hair :and other certainties of life and cancer /
Debra Jarvis.
p. cm.
eISBN : 978-1-570-61663-1
1. Jarvis, Debra—Health. 2. Breast—Cancer—Patients—
Biography. 3. Breast—Cancer—Psychological aspects. I.Title.
RC280.B8.J32 2007
362.196’994490092—dc22
[B]
2007013055
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