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Scripts From An Open Heart Installment V . . . Mary Pocock |
The Pocock Diaries is a work in progress - this is our fifth installment. If you missed any of the previous installments, then begin here. Entries will be added each month. Some excerpts of e-mails will also be included. And please feel free to send along your thoughts or feedback to The Pocock Diaries
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The nurse tells me I am the Ambassador. My friend Lucie and I glance at her, surprised. "Ambassador of Portacath" she clarifies. We laugh. Since my veins no longer co-operate, I get my monthly hospital drip through a titanium portacath, inserted under the skin on my chest. I call it the doorbell, as this is what it looks like.
I lie back for my drip and across from me a woman is resting; her partner has his laptop open, revealing a picture of Homer Simpson's brain. The caption reads "Quiet, or I'll stab you with a q-tip." I called over to ask him to email it to me. I had a laugh waiting for me at home.
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I arrived at the hospital early, sporting a good thick book for the aptly named waiting room. Life is not based on expectation. I was told I must first give blood, then check in, then go up for a chest Xray, then return and so on. | 
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| My pal Lucie held both my tea and the book. I ran around the various hospital floors trying to expedite the schedule. A page came over the intercom, looking for "the representative of excelerated services." Think I'll apply for the job. | |
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I taught art class all week. The right side of my face is tingling and pain ushers into my right eye. Brain tumor, my subconscious suggests. I meet friends and laugh, fully alive. Tumor thoughts dissolve. One of my friends has arranged for me to see a Tibetan Buddhist Master. I ask him what shall I to do when the time comes for me to die. He looks at me intently. We both lean forward. He says with great import "Enjoy the ride!" We burst into laughter. I mean what else can you do; it is not time to fight the good fight when the process has begun. Let go. I think I will be as sad to leave this earth as a four year old at a birthday party; but I will go gently....after all, death is a concept, as is life. When we live it fully there is nothing left over after the experience, except the effect we have had on others, ourselves and the environment. |
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Mind never ends. Each moment of consciousness arises from the previous moment of consciousness.
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| The lake was clear and cool. She sat among the waterlilies and blue dragonflies, wondering how to fully enjoy them; she knew she was dying. That's the task life presents really - to embrace living within the knowledge of the inevitable. We think we must push away the thought of dying in order to live. To embrace and accept our own death gives a sense of freedom that cannot be beat. I learned some of this at a Callanish retreat, named after the second largest standing stone circle in Britain. |
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Last September I spent a week on Vancouver island. Callanish organizes retreats for cancer folk a few times a year. During the week, I faced my death, learned to leg wrestle, meditated and swam in the ocean with abandon. Opposites and oxymorons dissolved. I discovered that Palliative doctors can also be great stand up comics. One morning, we were given the task of writing down how we wished our death to be. It was tough, greatly revealing and I experienced a spacious sense of freedom afterwards. Since everyone has to die at some point, planning a funeral is like planning a stage set - only one does not get to see the play. Setting the event is like theater; if you lose your hesitancy to look at your own death, the planning can be - well, fun. Enjoyable, at least. The date was September 11th. Having just completed and shared this task with seven other participants made us vulnerable and raw for what came next - the World Trade Center collapse.
The news came. No Guarantees in life became more than a platitude.
This September we all must take a stand for peace and tolerance -
walk outside on September 11th, smile to our neighbours and walk with compassion, tolerance, wisdom. |
Walk in peace
Die in peace
Leave peace behind ...
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If
I were an artist
I would make you
a poem tree
that
would grow
on your dresser
And the words and letters
Would twist and turn
in the breeze
to show you
a new
reality.
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E-Mail Corner |
Dear Mary,
a friend's Grama that's about to leave this earth due to Bone Metastasis doesn't look like she's going anywhere to me. She drinks a twelve pack of beer a day and thinks
the beer helps. So how about Burdock root and beer . .
the alcohol should extract the essence from the Burdock and you should be feeling good in no time Jane
Reply: If we could combine that recipe with duct tape to hold the spine
together, the world would be ideal
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Just visited your web site. Your "I" is healthy, because you have realized that "I" is an illusion. Others are more important. You are so right when you say that Dharma and psychotherapy go hand in hand as both deal with ego and identity issues.
We all struggle through whatever existence we have created and it is so healing to know that it is possible to think of healing others in the midst of dealing with adverse conditions. Linda
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When I sat down to read My eyes were tired and sore. Reading them was thrilling Having read them My eyes are wide open
Donna
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-loved it, particularly your journals. i like the idea of it appearing in parts over the next while. very strong but also humorous, shocking, tender, generous. . . i thought keylight did a great job re the colors of the whole issue and design Ruth
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I particularly loved your image of going to church ... all the
little Pococks looking like a forest!
It reminded me of one Easter when I was about 10. We always used to go to
Clinton to visit my grandparents, and one year I had a new Easter outfit
that I'll never forget - a yellow coat, complete with lavender shoes,
gloves, purse, and yes, hat. I looked like a crocus. Be well, Jane
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I enjoy your web site greatly, Mary. It is lovely and so poetically written. Also I have a thing for snakes and the front picture of a women just gave me a delightful jolt as it looks like she is wrapped in a beautiful snake.
Your words are gentle and delicate, strong and vibrant all at the same time. I laughed aloud several times.
May we link to you? Ann Fonfa
Not a born cynic, Founder, The Annie Appleseed Project
Reply: Great site, check it out.
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I loved what you wrote. It was so moving and funny! I feel corny saying it like that, but it is true. Rachel
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I am always telling Karen that we can ignore the shelf life stickers.
I'm glad to get further confirmation.
-thanks for reminding us about the marvel of the human spirit, and the true gift of life. Gareth |
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