June 18, 2006 – Television News

 

 

Hope your flowers are blooming, the sun is shining, and this update finds you in peace or well into vacation fun!

 

To our movie-watching friends, Jim and I attended a premiere of Prairie Home Companion and we loved it!  If you’re a fan of Garrison Kiellor’s weekly program on National Public Radio, you’ll love the movie.  It’s worth the $20.00 for the big screen and popcorn.  The movie Break Up, by the way, is surprisingly complex with an un-Hollywood ending, but definitely a rental.  There you have it from the Chaffee Critics Corner.

 

As usual, our days are torn between exciting life and sorrowful death.  Our friend Joanie died after months of painful paralysis caused by a car accident.  We will attend her memorial service on Monday to celebrate her life and acknowledge the love of her husband, Billy Ray.  Also, Roger, our former pastor of Emmanuel Presbyterian Church in Thousand Oaks, CA where Jim served as music minister from 1985-1990, passed away in Seattle a few days ago, alert and even praying for me until he slipped into unconsciousness and then into heaven.  Many shall miss these two and remember their influence.

 

Today’s celebration:  Father’s Day.  Jim bought himself a long-wanted book a few days ago so I only had to buy a card.  And I found a real tear-jerker...one with a sentiment that described him perfectly and deservedly.  I love to make him cry - and laugh.  And we’ve been doing a lot of both recently. 

 

Our most exciting news is that Jim and I will return to Boston, June 30-July 4 to see Elliott and Taylor, but for a highly unusual reason.

 

Months ago, during a hospital stay, I met Dr. John Mulder, a pain specialist.  He was quite kind and personable and carefully discussed pain management with me.  Somehow, the topic of my updates came up and probably, in a moment of incoherence, I told him to visit my web site.  Hours later, he returned to my room to tell me that the A&E Network had just contacted him, asking him to recommend a terminally ill cancer patient to feature in a future documentary.  He asked permission to submit my name.

 

Happily sedated, I agreed, privately thinking, “It will never happen.”  Dr. Mulder called a few times over the next several weeks to reconfirm my willingness to be contacted.   I always agreed, convinced the odds of being chosen were equal to winning the lottery.  (I would need to buy a ticket.)

 

Short version of a long story:  Lori, a producer for A&E, called early one Friday morning in May, again on Saturday and Sunday, making arrangements to interview me at home.  She and cameraman Jerome arrived the following Wednesday, and after a delightful carry-in lunch and relaxed conversation, the camera was set up outside on the kitchen deck.  Instantly they knew I had to change clothes since my “special” outfit of a brown beaded top and green floral skirt with chocolate lace trim melted into the brown porch railings, brown tree trunks and green leaves.  Lori ransacked my closet and pulled out an old, turquoise top.  (Who says trouble doesn’t have an up side – I have an excuse now to buy new clothes that fit (size 0) and are up-to-date.  On sale, of course!)  

 

Lori and Jerome filmed for at least five hours in the slow settling of the sun’s western rays. I tried to remember to sit up straight, relax my shoulders, not sweat, smile, look directly into the camera, and speak naturally.  Right.  No problem.  I could tell when the camera zoomed in and I wanted to shout, “Pull back!  Pull back!  Don’t show my wrinkles!”  Even in the weakest of bodies, Vanity proves itself strong

 

At one point, Lori asked a question, not meaning to crack us up:  “How do you like living up here on your hill?” 

 

“I love the quiet and solitude and isolation that allow me to write,” I replied.  Barely had the words left my mouth before an airplane flew overhead, low and loud.  Three sets of eyes shot to the sky and we all began to laugh.  Lori sarcastically called, “Cut!”  We waited several minutes for the drone to fade away and solitude and isolation to return.  Later, we had to stop taping again because the voices of chirping birds were louder than mine.  Jerome said, “It sounds like we’re in an atrium.”

 

Some questions Lori asked were difficult to answer, like:  “How has your cancer affected your marriage?”

 

My answer was immediate and sure, but not without emotion. “Jim has more than lived up to his promise to love me for better or worse, in sickness and in health.”  And then, of course, I cried. 

 

She asked if anything good had come from my cancer.  The most obvious answer I forgot to say was:  My curly hair!   My mind was in such a serious space that I first thought of the love and care of my local and long-distance friends and family and associates.  I said that my sickness allowed all of you to give the gift of compassion, which blesses us all.

 

Lori asked specific questions about the boys, which I wasn’t comfortable answering.  She respected my hesitancy and quickly moved on to ask about the legacy I plan to leave them.  That question is hard to answer privately or publicly.  Of course, I want to leave an example of faith, which I hope they will embrace as their own.  For this part of the filming, I was inside the house, standing in front of our Mayan-red wall where 35+ instruments hang; souvenirs gathered from all around the world during the early years of our marriage when Jim and I were fortunate to travel.  Our sons can have these pieces of carved wood, slack strings, taut skins, talking drums, hollowed logs, tuning knobs, polished shells, brass, iron and ivory.  Or, they can sell or give them away.  I want them to make their own collections, create visual representations of their own histories, and leave stories for their own children. 

 

I desperately tried to avoid speaking Christianese or “religious language.”  I referenced Job, but quickly clarified the difference between his story and mine.  Like him, I have felt thwarted and undone on every level.  Nor do I believe God causes my suffering, but, like Job, I believe  that God is present IN my suffering, even if he seems silent.  I was also able to comfortably refer to the name given to Jesus used mainly at Christmas time: Emmanuel, God With Us.  God has been with us for almost three years of unimaginable disappointment and pain.

 

I can’t really tell my story without recapping the New Testament account of Peter’s desire to walk on water, like Jesus, who encouraged such daring. “Come ahead.”  Peter took a few steps, shifted his gaze to the reality of waves slapping around his ankles, panicked, and sank into the churning sea.  Jesus sighed and said “You have such little faith.”  I wonder if he was amused or irritated as he tossed Peter back into the boat and climbed in himself. 

I told Lori (in the camera lens), “I can just see Peter, curled in a humiliated fetal position at the bottom of the boat while the other fishermen picked up the oars and rowed to shore.  If Jesus could walk on water for Pete’s sake (literally), surely Jesus could have miraculously propelled the boat to their destination.  Instead, he required the physical work of others to get Peter safely to shore.”  My friends, I humbly bragged, have been and are rowing my boat, either to the shore of healing or the sands of eternity.  And I am grateful.

 

 

Of course, I wish I could go back and re-film some things.  I’m sure that inclination will be an ever-present part of this project.  I’m afraid I will appear too solemn; in the first session, I don’t think I laughed or smiled or showed any of my irreverent humor.  Many of you know I’ve collected plenty of embarrassing events to confess!  Could I think of one?  No!

 

Just at dusk, Lori and Jerome spent about 30 minutes filming Jim.  He won’t tell me what they asked him, but I could tell just by looking at him that he cried.  He’s such a softy.

 

Next?  Early on Friday morning, June 30^th, Lori will fly to Boston, pick up a local camera man, and drive straight to Whole Foods to film Elliott and Taylor at work.  Their plan is to record Elliott playing drums in his practice studio and Taylor creating some of his art in his apartment or classroom.  Jim and I fly in that evening and may do some filming.  Saturday morning, the four Chaffees will be guests at the Boston aquarium, where a private guide will allow us to do something “regular” visitors don’t get to do.  What, I don’t know.  You’ll have to wait with me to find out.  Saturday evening, A&E will treat us to dinner.  I mentioned that the boys LOVE sushi, even though I’m banned from eating this, my favorite food: succulent Ahi tuna, radiant salmon, piles of red roe, strips of smoky eel, white tuna and calamari.  So, we’ll see what Lori chooses for our feast. 

 

Lori flies out Sunday morning, leaving Jim and me in the hotel Sunday and Monday to enjoy room service and pampering and time alone with our sons before we return to Nashville and our normal routine on July 4^th.  We haven’t practiced “normal” for years!  But we try!

 

All in all, I am humbled and honored that A&E chose me, admittedly a woman of faith, to represent cancer patients.  I pray that for their part, the boys will be articulate and truthful (that makes me nervous!), that our family will be shown to be loving and honest, not exempt from suffering but struggling together to keep the boys in college, keep me in the upward journey to remission, and keep Jim healthy and strong as he supports us all.

 

So, thank you for your prayers for us, especially from June 30^th – July 4^th.  Whether the documentary shows in January, as presently scheduled, or whenever, may every scene, even after final edit, give glory to God and hope for the future. 

 

It’s a tricky road we are traveling, full of surprises, delights, and dangers.  My next regimen of chemo/steroid pills begins Monday, June 19.  I’ll take 9 pills a day for four days, then wait to see what happens, what side effects visit me with vengeance or trauma or remission.  We’ll keep sending these letters, extended postcards that say, “Wish you were here,” while constantly acknowledging that in spirit, you are.  Thank you.   

 

Janice