February, 2001

Dear Ones, As I write to you from Eugene, Oregon, the Calendar button on this web site promises many journeys for February (if you are curious about my whereabouts). Marcus is back in school, plays his sax, does his homework, maintains his sense of humor as the blood tests and maintenance chemo continue. THANK-GOD! The month of January began for me in Denton, TX with Gabriella Miller, my brother's widow and my friend over so many years. There were stories to share as the sun melted the remains of ice and snow. Then I arrived in Portland, OR to visit with my daughter, Regna, her three children and all those thereto attached. The very first full day in Portland brought the news that Bill Clinton had signed the roadless protection plan for our forests. There was much rejoicing. Regna is the Executive Director of the Oregon Natural Resources Council (www.ONRC.org) and ONRC was one of the architects of the plan. The plan is now in jeopardy as the new administration takes over. But surely you can imagine our joy as three years of hard work was acknowledged, accepted. There was time also in Portland to visit old friends and to discuss with grandchildren, Jesse, 21 and Joshua, 19 the deepest issues of life and to put the finishing touches on an embroidery for Maura, 16. Now wasn't that a grandmotherly visit? The last weekend of January found me with Ann's family on the coast of Oregon, glorying in the waves crashing along the shore, causing mist and rainbows. How I LOVE the Pacific Ocean! In the grandmother mode I was able to help Lucas, 14, with questions as he prepared for his finals at Marist high school and to admire Marcus' patient creation of a giant stuffed panda for one 6th grade class. For all this I am very thankful. I would like to take this opportunity here to thank Elizabeth and Bernie Mantey for their years of loving support. Bernie has taken many of the splendid photographs of my embroideries. My closing thoughts are of an undercurrent to the past month. David Steele, a retired Presbyterian pastor whom I have known and loved for more than 25 years (he was the token male on the Ribbon's board), has entered a hospice in Arizona. Linked here is his explanation of his decision to do this, as published in The Presbyterian News. I wanted to share it with you; it was very moving for me to learn what he is going through. January 30 is the 15th anniversary of an event I have named the Experience of the Reassurance. In the cold night in Collegeville, MN 15 years ago I had what can only be called an out-of-body experience. It demonstrated to me that it is the work we do that Returns us to Love. Surely David's essay is a POWERFUL statement of the work he has done, of the faith he has lived. There is no denial of the pain nor of the hope inherent in his decision to make his Next Step with courage and with humor, Joan by his side. with Love, Justine

Living with Mortality by David Steele Yesterday Joan and I joined Hospice of the Valley. It was one of the most difficult decisions I have ever faced. By doing so I affirm that my cancerous condition is terminal and that in all likelihood I will die within six months. I also agree that in the light of my poor reaction to radiation the likelihood of significant help from chemotherapy is dubious. So I have opted for community and care and quality of life. It's a strange time to join hospice because I feel better than I have in weeks. Finally I am coming out of the weakness created by the radiation. My energy is up; my appetite has returned and I feel like a human being. I am hopeful hospice will assist me in developing a sensible exercise program and help me get back into normal living. I have graduated in the last three weeks from a wheelchair to a walker to a cane. So my decision to join hospice grows out of my quest for strength, not weakness. Most folks and their families turn to hospice in the last few weeks of life when the crises are evident. It is unusual for someone like me who is fairly healthy to come in so early. The norm is for families to hold off till the final crisis and are in the program for less than a month. And I think I can understand why. The hospice decision is so final! And it seems like giving up! It appears to be at cross purposes to our prayers and the yearnings of our souls. We cancer folk keep hoping for a medical breakthrough or an epiphany. It is hard to admit to oneself that such is unlikely to happen and spend our energy making the best life we can. There is an orange notice that comes with all the sign-up papers. We filled it out and got our neighbors to witness our signatures. It goes on the refrigerator with a magnet and says in effect to paramedics "no heroic deeds of resuscitation here." Something about seeing that thing on the fridge got to both Joan and me. We held each other and wept for we are not ready for that sort of thing. This morning I see the larger picture. Hospice is not about dying but it is about living and I choose to focus my energy. I am hoping to discover resources to enhance my own meditation program, support groups and so forth. I am ready to develop inner resources which will strengthen my body and soul. There is no firm timetable when it comes to cancer. My hope is to live until April 6. On that day I will be 70. As a boy I recall when my grandfather turned 70. He told me "three-score years and 10, that's what the Bible says is a full life." If I could make that I'd have no grounds for regret, would I? But my real goal is to outlive the hospice rubrics. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be alive six months from now? And have Medicare bugging me on a lovely June day about overstaying my welcome in the program. reprinted from THE PRESBYTERIAN OUTLOOK January 1-8, 2001

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