Christmas Letter 2011
Dear Friends,
It is my custom at this time of year to celebrate with my friends by giving them the gift of self — to share with you some of what the last year has brought for me.
Frankly, I am very surprised that I am writing this letter at all. Last year I did not think I would make it to this Christmas — but you never know. If I had to give a name to the year that is ending, I would call it the year of change and anxiety.
After I mailed last year’s Christmas letter, I received news that my Pater Seraphicus, Weaver Stevens — my Teacher, Mentor, Spiritual Guide, Guru, Priest, Analyst, and friend — had passed away. Weaver was one of the major forces that shaped who I am, and I miss him deeply. I am very thankful for all the writings he left behind, the videos we made before he retired from the priesthood, and most of all the memories, guidance, and wisdom he shared with me.
The greatest compliment I ever received was something he said to me over twenty years ago. I had come to him asking if he thought I should try to become a priest. He thought for a moment and then said, “YES, but you need to know that you will never get through — but you will be a wonderful experience for the Seminary.”
He felt my theological ideas were things most modern seminaries could not handle — but needed to be exposed to.
Death did visit my house this year when I had to have Linda’s cat, Samantha Fox, put down. The doctors could not tell me what was wrong, but she was old and getting very sick. This led to one of the great changes in my life. The day after Samantha died, I adopted a new cat I named Fontine. A few days later I visited the pet store (the rescue group works out of several pet stores) and they told me about her sister, who was so timid and scared they feared she would never be adopted. So I adopted her as well. Her name is Eponine.
So now I have Cosset, Fontine, and Eponine in my home — and we are all getting along wonderfully.
In the spring I had a big boost in my energy levels and was able to do a lot of yard work and replaced the top of my deck. In the summer I visited Los Angeles to be present for my sister Susan’s ordination to the diaconate. She is one step away from the priesthood and will take that step on February 12th — completing the journey I started but was not able to finish.
In August I took a cruise with my folks from Seattle to Alaska and back. It was a wonderful time.
Those were the changes.
The anxiety has come on the medical side. The good news is that I have not had to have surgery this year, and I have managed to go almost a year without using my cane. But I have had several false alarms with cancer. They thought I had skin cancer, testicular cancer, breast cancer — and I did not. But I have had many scans and tests that show I still have cancer, but nothing operable or treatable at this point. The whole-body scan showed very little uptake, but the PET scan showed some.
That might sound like good news, but it means that the cancer that can be treated with radiation is almost gone — while the kind that cannot be treated is still there.
The cancer is changing from the type that can be seen on the whole-body scan to the type that can only be seen on the PET scan. The problem is that I keep reading that once cancer makes that change, life expectancy is about three years — and mine started making that change two years ago. I asked my cancer doctor what she thought my prognosis was. She told me she believed I would live at least five years.
OH GOODY.
The PET scan also showed a “hot spot” in my distal esophagus. I had an endoscope, and they could not find anything — but as they told me, that does not mean the PET scan was wrong, only that it’s too small for them to detect.
There is good news for the American Medical Association. The definition of surviving cancer is not what most people think. It does not mean living to old age. To “survive cancer,” you only have to live five years after being diagnosed. If you die on the first day after five years, the medicos call that a win. One reason they want to find cancer early is because it helps them make that date.
So in January, I will officially have survived five years.
As to my neurological problems — my condition is deteriorating slowly and frustratingly. In the spring, I had a burst of energy and was able to do a lot. But I also noticed I was having more trouble with my gait and that my shoes were wearing out strangely, showing I wasn’t lifting my foot correctly. I finally had to get new shoes, which helped.
In April, when I would go for my afternoon walks, I could maintain a pace of around 4 miles an hour. Today, most days I do not have the energy to walk at all, and when I do, I can barely maintain 3.25 — and I do not walk as far. My energy level keeps dropping. And I have started getting sick two days after each treatment — so sick that the first time it happened, I had to go to the ER. My doctors are still trying to work out what is going on.
Well, that has been my year. I have no idea what to hope for in the coming year and am simply taking things one day at a time.
I want to thank all of you for your support, friendship, prayers, and for being you — my friends.
And as Tiny Tim said, “God bless us, everyone!”
Love,
Odell
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