The reason I’m here instead of We’moon and womyn’s land
is because I have to have a procedure on Monday – 2 procedures actually. I’ve
been having reoccurring yet intermittent side pain that I decided the last time
it almost debilitated me for 4 days that I need to prioritize it and get to the
I was hoping I could go to we’moon plus do the procedure
next week but it didn’t work that way so here I am at Mendocino National Forest
and the Red Bluff Sycamore Grove Campground. When Tessie was little, we often
went to Mendocino National Forest but by Lake Pillsbury – it was one of my most
favorite camping places, close enough to the Bay to get to quickly and
isolated, up steep inclines with no drinking water so it eliminated RV’s – the
scourge of camping in the day – and other wooses who couldn’t be so
independent. Not me and Tess though!
There was also a state (I think) campground just before
taking the for Pillsbury by yet another lake – but this one was more expensive
and more policed or rangered.
This Sycamore Grove is probably the farthest north of the
forest – and also the most developed – it has flushing toilets, showers, and
electrical hookups – most things not found in the national forest.
I’m needing both a colonoscopy and an endonoscopy or
something like that – where my doc will take a camera and look up my butt
(bottom, as she says) and also go thru my mouth into my stomach and look
around. She say that often side pain is associated with the stomach, which most
people don’t know, so she’ll be looking for ulcers, polyps and the like.
Of course, I’m worried about cancer, there being sooooooo
much cancer in my biological family. I’m finished with the breast cancer fear,
I’ve passed that hump now that I’m 66, and moved on to the colon cancer fear. I
believe my great-grandmother (my mother’s grandmother) had colon cancer. She
was one that never made it out of Germany, so she was one that was never talked
about, but my grandmother did tell me once that her mother had colon cancer the
same time as hitler was in power because she said she wouldn’t wish the pain on
anyone, not even hitler.
Death dying and living: I’ve been so fortunate, I’ve
never been afraid of dying, even after my ‘near death’ experiences. I’ve been
afraid of suffering –with cancer, with torture, with awareness – but dying
itself doesn’t scare me, at least I don’t think it does.
The times when I’ve been in situations where I’ve thought
“this could kill me or end up with me dead” I’ve ploughed forward, keeping my
eye on the goal and not caring if it cost my life.
My grandson has been talking with me about dying. He is
afraid of death & I’m trying to reassure him that death is not all that
scary. I think living a life that is not the one you want, or that is
meaningless to you, or makes you miserable is a much worse fate than dying.
He’s really worried about me dying. He often asks me how
long I think I’ll live for, how old will he be when I die. When I tell him no
one knows when they’ll die and I certainly don’t know when I’ll die, he asks me
well, how long do I want to live for.
I can answer that: I tell him as long as I am healthy and
independent. But he’s not accepting this. He lets me know that if I get sick,
he will take me to the hospital and they will make me better. I tell him, to
his utter shock and sadness, hospitals can’t always make you better.