The Wizard of Oz is about as American as apple pie, the fireworks, and the 4th of July (nice segue, right?).
And after last week’s post, what I miss most about chemo, I bet you thought chemo brain and the great love that surrounded me’s a thing of the past–no worries on that front.
It’s still alive and kicking—some stuff about chemo I don’t have to miss because it will always be a part of me, kind of like that one time a year when we got to watch The Wizard of Oz.
But like chemo, that show has made an everlasting impression on me, and not in any way that you might think.
It’s about the journey home, after all. And isn’t that what life is? But even a seasoned Wizard of Oz fan hasn’t seen the show through my eyes.
What you think happened: It opens in the black and white world of Kansas.
What took place, for real: When we first moved back home to Philly, my Mom took the girls to see a community theater production of The Wizard of Oz–with a real Toto.
At intermission, the girls couldn’t get over the dog, and Alex and I couldn’t get over the professionalism.
And then we saw Skylar’s music teacher playing in the orchestra. We excitedly went up to talk to her. How cool to go to a show and know someone involved in it! We didn’t think anything more of that show for a long time. It was merely a black and white memory.
What you think happened: The tornado hits, and Dorothy’s house lands on the Wicked Witch of the East. Dorothy’s not in Kansas anymore, but boy, does she want to go home.
What took place, for real: When Skylar graduated from grade school, she played Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz (co-directed by none other than her first-grade music teacher). I got sick because I was so distraught that Skylar was graduating from the same grade school I graduated from (literally, I got the flu) the Tuesday before the Friday performance.
I had to be fever-free for 24 hours to be able to go. It’s not like Skylar needed me there, the show would go on without me, but I realized even sadder than my daughter graduating was the thought I wouldn’t be able to be there to hear her sing “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.”
But who could get over the flu in four days? At the time, it seemed like the worst thing that could ever happen to me.
But then I got cancer–talk about the worst thing that ever happened to me. Four days to get over the flu at the time seemed like an eternity, but how long would it take to get over cancer? Six months, oh my gosh, seven months? I couldn’t possibly be dealing with it for nine months–that’s how long I was pregnant. I remember Alex saying, “it won’t take that long. You’re so overdramatic.” I wasn’t overdramatic enough!
What you think happened: Dorothy gets the ruby red slippers by Glinda, the good witch. Dorothy has a hero’s send-off as she follows the yellow brick road.
What took place, for real: When Skylar was in 5th Grade, Skylar’s very same first-grade music teacher invited Skylar to try out for Amaryllis in Music Man. That one show changed all of our lives. It gave Skylar her ruby red slippers and started her off on her journey home through twenty-something shows. (Alexandra was too young to be in that show, but it ignited a fire in her, too.)
But my job was to be a supporter of the arts, the girls, and Alex. I had no business being on stage or doing anything that involved singing, acting, or dancing. I call it being a trifecta loser. But when I was nearing my mid-life crisis, I preferred to have mine on stage.
I was in Mamma Mia! with the same director who directed that very first production of The Wizard of Oz, Skylar’s first community theater production of Music Man, and so many shows after that with both girls that we stopped counting.
Just as Skylar’s Glinda was her music teacher, my Glinda was that same director we all have come to love. She taught me how to have fun on stage, which inadvertently taught me how to have fun in life, and she was there for me through both like I was the only one who mattered.
So I was ready for my hero’s journey following the yellow brick road through cancer.
What you think happened: Dorothy meets the scarecrow who needs a brain.
What took place, for real: I took my brain way too seriously until my left side functioning got suspended during chemo, and I started to enjoy the comedian. I need a brain, all right.
But I’ve had so much fun without one–especially when Alexandra got to be the scarecrow in this year’s production of The Wizard of Oz. (yes, with the same first-grade music teacher–there’s a theme here!).
I was a living example of how to act without a brain–a role model.
And, I didn’t even have to make myself sick over it as I did for Skylar’s play. I already was sick.
What you think happened: Dorothy meets the tin man who needs a heart.
What took place, for real: I always wanted to do for other people, but I never wanted anyone to do for me. Love was a tit for tat–your turn my turn type of thing. (Or else, let me do everything for you). I did need a heart–a heart adjustment. After Alexandra’s play that very same first grade music teacher. who’s been blessing us this whole story, gave a speech thanking me for doing Kisses For The Cast for six years at our school and presented me with a giant Hershey kiss. Okay I still felt guilty that I hadn’t given out kisses for the kids this year, but I had to get over it. There was a heck of a lot of things I didn’t do for anyone this year. But when I opened up to all the love in my life exemplified by that standing ovation, I never felt so–gush–loved.
What you think happened: Dorothy meets the lion who needs courage.
What took place, for real: I had no courage–none. I wasn’t like these other courageous women who had fought the fight before me–maybe if I could stockpile it and save it up for a rainy day. I remember complaining to Alex, “Everyone thinks I’m courageous but I’m not. I can’t do this.” I think I still say that, in fact.
What you think happened: The Wicked Witch of the West curses them to do the jitterbug dance.
What took place, for real: Sometimes in life, we feel cursed. The Wicked Witch of the West yelled out, “hernia ridiculousa!” The herniation part gave me the herniated disc in my neck, and the ridiculousa part is medically called ridiculitis–the nerve sensations down my arm. I like to remember it as this ridiculous curse, or as my physical therapist described it, “The nerves are the divas of the body.”
So, while everybody gets to do the jitterbug, my diva’s been acting up instead. I have some acting ability, after all.
But it does beget the question, why’d I get cancer in the first place? Why the herniated disc?
It’s all part of the journey, that’s why.
What you think happened: They reach the Wizard of Oz, who tells them they have to get the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West.
What took place, for real: I finally got through chemo, and then I needed to deal with surgery. Oh no! How could I get through that part of the journey?
What you think happened: The music changed, and they were about to go to the witch’s castle when… Commercial break.
What took place, for real: This is when Mom always made me go to sleep. I’d ask, “what happens next?” She’d say, “Nothing much. The Wicked Witch dies, and Dorothy gets to go back home.” And I’d be happy to miss that scary part. I didn’t like that she had to die.
What you think happened: The Wicked Witch dies.
What took place, for real: I’m cancer-free! “Ding dong, the witch is dead.” I sure am grateful that witch is dead now!
What you think happened: The Oz isn’t real, but he gives everybody what they need. It turns out they had it all along.
What took place, for real: The Oz isn’t real, but neither are these breasts, and that’s okay. It’s helping me get through this. But so did chemo brain, the heart that I had all along but didn’t know it, and the courage that I got one day at a time. I couldn’t hoard these gifts in my closet and keep them there until the day I needed them. I received these gifts at the moment in the journey I needed them most, and not one second before.
What you think happened: That stupid Toto runs away and thwarts the plans to take Dorothy home.
What took place, for real: We have a foolish dog, too, who runs away at the worst possible times. One day she was gone for six days and six nights, but that’s a different story for another day.
What you think happened: If Dorothy clicked her heels together three times, she’d go home.
What took place, for real: If only life were that easy during the challenging parts–if we could click ourselves out of any situation. But no one can solve our problems for us. But there might be some satisfaction in keeping the end goal in mind. When the time’s right and the journey’s done, it’ll seem so easy. That’s all we had to do?
What you think happened: She woke up, and it was just a dream anyway. But it was so real–more real than the black and white world of Kansas.
What took place, for real: Thursday before Skylar’s show, I didn’t have a fever. I took it hourly to be sure I was 32 hours fever-free.
That Friday night, I clicked my heels together and got to wake up in Kansas.
Seeing our first production of The Wizard of Oz as a family when the girls were so young seems like a distant dream. We can weave into our lives now the strangers involved in that production–so many of them have become our dear friends.
So when my comedian (the scarecrow) or my diva (my nerve) are acting up now, I smile. I don’t have enough imagination to make up the drama we’ve encountered (and have yet to experience) on the yellow brick road to get home–just like Dorothy, no one would believe me anyway.
Last week, in my chemo wrap-up series, I addressed what I miss most about chemo: Hats Off To What I Miss Most About Chemo. You just read the second part: aka what I’ll carry with me. Stay tuned for a fun wrap-up next week. (if the girls and I can get our act together).
Who says Stephanie Cunningham Ortiz doesn’t have courage? Not me! It took great fortitude to share her arduous journey with such candor, soul, passion, and yes even a bit of humor. She deserves not only our love but also our respect. I don’t know many others who could have walked us through this and come out so well on the other side. A rare and valued friend, indeed.
I’m so beyond blessed and touched beyond words to be taking this journey with you! As a journalist )at least that’s what I’ll call it) there’s nothing more satisfying than being on the cutting edge of the story. But there’s no story without you, my dear friend!! xoxo
Dear Stephanie: It is not easy, taking two themes and weaving them, as you did.
I sometimes think of the Wizard’s admission to Dorothy:
“I’m really a very good man; but I’m a very bad Wizard, I must admit”
It helps in seeing people at their fullest.
Life is complicated.
You have helped others (me) understand the subtleties of a nasty illness, while life sort of goes on around you. Brava! Not easy to keep thinking and writing but you are doing it.
I look forward to your next files…your next steps…..keep typing.
George
Now you tell me how hard it is! Had I known…nah. Who am I kidding? I still would have dared it. I’m honored and ever so thankful to hear from you! You’re such a great and humble master of the written word—it’s like having a professor in my pocket!