Muhammad Ali was with me during a challenging time in my life. He hung out in my hospital room after I had cancer surgery. Nope, I was not hallucinating from the drugs. He visited me daily and told me jokes. My multiple layers of 150 staples and sutchers holding my 13″ incision together made laughing painful. But, between the morphine and Muhammad I did. Muhammad’s grace and charisma transcend his Parkinsonian symptoms. Muhammad and I were the only two patients on the floor. When I was finally forced to get out of bed and walk down the hall, I prayed my bare bottom was not in full bloom! He never mentioned it…
Muhammad’s visits encouraged and inspired me. His strength gave me strength. Between his trembling hands and shuffled gate I felt such compassion for his physical state. But, the oxymoron to his diminishing physical health was his eyes. Oh, his eyes were dark, intimidating pools of power. Muhammad’s eyes held such intelligence and strength that I felt very, very vulnerable on many levels. His eyes seared right into mine without hesitation or apology. He missed nothing. This man could quickly size up his opponent and act without fear. Yet, there he stood, next to my bed telling me jokes. I wish I could remember them. His delightful humor made me forget my sense of feeling emotional naked. We easily laughed with each other. Muhammad, if fate should have it that this ever reaches you ~ I thank you from the bottom and every side of my heart for helping me heal. I doubt we will ever see each other again in such an intimate setting, without the press, or body guards, or your entourage, but I want you to know how much I enjoyed your visits. My only regret is that I probably didn’t express my gratitude clearly – and my unruly curls definitely out did anything Don King ever sported – a little humbling for me, especially for our first meeting.
So, what prompted this post? I had CAT scans last Monday. I have a new nodule in my pelvic area is growing about 1mm/month. It is now 8×12mm. Now that’s not very big but it should not be there. In June 2000, I was diagnosed with a 9cm sarcoma, specifically a hemangiopericytoma. The sarcoma took residence at the base of my spine, right iliac crest (hip), and front psoas (stomach) muscle. It demanded regular feeding and attention. A very rude and uninvited guest! And, it refused to leave when asked. Although it was hit with 50 gras of radiation – a lifetime maximum amount to the spine, it was still 90% alive upon removal. Dirty bastard.
Because of this drama, my DearZanny shows have taken a brief hiatus – but I will be back because I refuse to quit! Call me and share your experiences 678-884-0524.