Pool/Drop

The Crying of Lot 107081

I'm four days clear of my last radiation treatment and I'm feeling great both physically and mentally.  I wasn't quite sure how it was going to be emerging from the basement at UCSF after radiation session number thirty but I felt instantly revived and awakened.  I left with my mask as a party favor in a grocery bag and it felt like a feather rather than a prison as I carried it home with me.  A friend had suggested to me before I began that most patients either want to transform their mask into a piece of art or back over it with their car.  I initially identified with the latter group but now that's not the case.  I don't want to destroy and I don't want to transform it.  It stands for itself.
I figure with the initial fitting, the treatments and scans, and the occasional delays, I probably spent in the neighborhood of fourteen hours locked into this thing.  When I look at it now I think of perseverance rather than misery, patience rather than suffering, and hope rather than fear.
Walt gravitates to the mask as something fun the play with.  (Yes, I confirmed with my doctors that it contains no residue of radiation.)
I appreciate that his mind assigns no preconceived notions to it.  It is a toy, a fun thing to try on and play with, and it signifies nothing else.  I think Steph might find this slightly disturbing but I appreciate his perspective.
I've noticed that I have frequently written about the about the transition between seasons - the solstice and the equinox - as a way to acknowledge and mark transitions.  Tomorrow is another one of those passages.  Today, I marked it by witnessing the Space Shuttle Endeavor pass over San Francisco on its way to Los Angeles.  It was majestic and awe inspiring - a celebration of what we can accomplish when dedicate ourselves to it.  The adults around me were transformed into children gasping, laughing, and smiling in delight.  The children that were there with teachers and classmates began spontaneously chanting, "NASA, NASA, NASA!"  I missed Discovery passing over Washington in April but I was glad I had the opportunity to see Endeavor on its final flight.

I walked home along the coastal trail on the western edge of the Presidio past Battery Chamberlin and Baker Beach.  I came across this beautiful piece of rip-rap and it sent me back to Grand Canyon again.

It should stand the test of time.  Rest in peace Randy Thompson

I fall back to a river metaphor.  The Colorado through the Grand Canyon is a series of pool/drop rapids.  Not all whitewater functions like this but in the Canyon, you get a big sharp drop followed by a pool of water slowing heading (sometimes not so slowly) back up stream in a large eddy.  While there are a few spots where the eddies themselves can present some problems, these are mostly places where you can float for a few minutes, celebrate or assess damage but recover.  You may have just had your ass handed to you in the drop above - broke an oar, shattered a motor handle, dinged a prop, or slammed you knees into your ammo cans - but you reach the slack water and you get a small respite.
You can celebrate or curse what just happened but you can recover and head down stream again with more strength and knowledge.
This is how I feel now.  I still need some time to recover but I am itching to break through the eddy line and continue downstream.