For over six years I battled death as I battled a rather ferocious cancer.  I am in remission, it feels great.  Though, one thing keeps me from really feeling alive again.  That thing is the constant pain brought about by the major weapons we had to bring out to kick the cancer out of me, or, at least keep it from growing any further.

The pain can not be truly described. It exists in various parts of my body, and it never - NEVER - lets up.  Some of the pain can be brought to a near tolerable level with the use of medications, prayer, meditations, and distractions.  Yet, there are two places where the pain is long gone past the point of mediation, distraction, and, even prayer.  The prayers I say are for me to find the strength to lead a good and decent life.  I don't want to live in my pain, there is so much out there which still needs exploring by me.  My team of very good doctors, chiropractors, my hypnotist (who teaches me self-hypnosis, with great success), and a very good acupuncturist, have worked hard and then harder, to get me to a point where suicide is not my first option.  Though, it is right up there and I have no apologies for it being so.

I tried once.  I mean I really tried. Then, as I was chewing and swallowing the last bit of two bottles of very dangerous treatment drugs, I was hit with what I call, two wisp of air - a kind of breeze, yet, so very light.

In the first touch of the flow of air, I saw my partner coming in from work and seeing me dead on the floor.  I could not do that to him.  It would have been incredibly cruel.  The second breeze seemed to show me all of the faces of all of the doctors, my family, my friends, and on and on.  All of whom had played a major part in my still being alive after two oncologists felt I had, with treatment, maybe six months. My primary doctors reminded me that I was a person and not a percentage point.

The odd thing is that I did not feel it was wrong to take me out of this living hill, no matter the work they had done. For, I was not in a world where I could even put words together as the pain played with my mind so often.

But, I could not let my partner find me.  I could barely make it to the phone.  My idea was to hold out as long as I thought I could, then make the 911 call, and, they would find me, and I would not be on the floor as my partner got home from a long night of work.

I dialed those three digits, I got out my address and what I had done - I believe - and then woke up in the ambulance as my heart received a hell of a shock to keep it going.  I then went out and woke up five days later, still on a respirator.  The story continues from there, with some funny and some heartwarming stories about my friends.  But, the point for me is that I find that taking my life is not being a coward, not being a wimp.  No, it is protecting the spiritual life within me, for no one should ever go through this pain.

Okay, to the title of today's post.  It is from the poem below, by Emily Dickinson.  I don't know why, but, while in the hospital I kept remembering studying the poem in one of my college courses.   Soon, I forgot it and went about working to bring down the pain.

Tonight, I was watching a show that TIVO had recorded for me, based on other movies I like, the stars I like, the writers, the directors, all of that.  The movie was The Brave One, with Jodie Foster and Terrence Howard.  Well, read the following and it should all make sense, which is something I try to do every now and then.

Because I could not stop for Death
by Emily Dickinson (see below for significance of this poem to me)

Because I could not stop for Death –

He kindly stopped for me –

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –

This evening, while watching a rather dark movie, starring a great full cast of actors and actresses, the main character of this movie, played by Jodi Foster, was walking down a deserted nighttime, New York City street. As she walked, the first portion of this poem was said in narration, by Ms. Foster’s character. I believe the writer left out one word, but, still, I knew the poem and I knew the author. I had not heard it since college, in one of my many English courses.  

Thank heavens for TIVO. I could play it back and forth to make sure I wrote what the character said correctly on a scrap piece of paper close at hand. I then, breaking a rule of mine for this weekend, which was to stay off of the computer, came to the machine and confirmed my belief that it was an Emily Dickinson poem. It is beautiful, sad, eerie. For me, when hearing it read, a visceral reaction went up and down my spine.

It also brought up what is becoming a more and more annoying hole in my life. Which is having someone to discuss such prose and dissect it, so as to better understand the writer's thoughts and life at the time such a wonderful piece of work was written. Was there an incident which prompted these words? Were they just words that the author felt worked together to tell a story of the way some people, in her world, felt or lived their lives.

I guess I miss college. This is the stuff that good college courses are made up of, assuming the professor can bring out the nuances of the work. This piece allowed my classmates and me to delve into the meaning of the words for the poet, and more so, for us, the readers.

I urge you to go to the link below and read this poem, plus, so many others that are just plain incredible.  Please, don't use the excuse you don't like poetry.  Maybe you haven't been exposed to it enough, or by people who can show you that poetry is yet another tool for a storyteller to tell their tales.

Good reading and great prospecting for the words that will find your soul, heart, and id.

Full Poem: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15395

Movie Information: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0476964/

Jodie Foster: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000149/ 

Terrence Howard: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0005024/

More on Emily Dickinson: http://tinyurl.com/2dgep2d