The throat, writes medical intuit Carolyn Myss, is the "organ of commitment." Without the throat we cannot naturally take in food, breathe or communicate verbally. Using our throat says of we humans that we choose to live and to be a part of the human condition despite its challenges. Early descriptions of Native Americans passing the pipe of peace between themselves and "others" included watching to see if the "other" used their hands to move the dancing smoke toward the throat. Doing so marked the "other" as a person of trust, willing to take in the promises, absorb them through the throat, the channel of life.

When I first started writing, I often awoke with a terrible sore throat. I'd tell myself I should stay in bed at 4:00am and look after my throat as I was prone to bronchitis. But I'd made a commitment to be at my computer by 5:00am so I'd have a couple of hours to write before heading off to work. I'd roll out of bed, shower, dress, eat, pray or read a poem, show up at the computer and then honestly, by 5:00am, my sore throat had disappeared. I had kept my commitment and voila! My life moved on to finish 27 books, one at a time, regardless of sore throats at 4:00am.

I still have episodes of chronic cough not caused by medication or allergies (that we can find) nor of digestive upset (often found to be the culprit). I keep cough drop companies in business. But lately, the throat has taken on new significance because - my friend has throat cancer.

She's had the surgery to remove the tumors which was nothing she says compared to the radiation and chemo, both causing havoc with her throat. Eating is a painful trial; nausea a chemo by-product. Drinking Boosts or water is as demanding as a final exam, a swallow an hour an achievement. Talking, too, takes its toll. And even tears of joy or relief releases moisture she can't afford to lose. Now, she has hydration infused daily following her radiation. They've added a pain killer enough to help her swallow sips. Chemo was stopped last week because her blood counts were too low. She's not getting enough nutrition. If counts are up this week, chemo will resume. We're all hoping to avoid the feeding tube. Who knew how powerful the throat could be?  

Jerry and I have spent as much time with her as we can. Often I've driven the pass alone to see her, drive her to her treatments, while he stayed behind to tend the home fires and the dogs. Even though I've had my own struggles through the years with coughs and sore throats, my appetite was never challenged. My ability to swallow came with discomfort but never terrible pain (except that time I had strep throat!). My own eating takes on new meaning, it's an almost holy act of gratitude taking in food and water knowing how difficult those simple acts are for her.

And lest you think me noble for driving the pass to help her, let me say this: Among other acts of kindness, she once drove 3.5 hours after work to our ranch then got in the car with me while I drove 3.5 hours more, in November, to pick up Jerry in elk camp where he had fallen. We loaded him in the back of the Pathfinder making a bed of quilts and sleeping bags. Our friend stepped into Jerry's truck and with walkie-talkies between us (before cell phones!) she followed us back to the ranch, another 3.5 hours. She helped me get Jerry into the house and into the hospital bed I'd ordered delivered and then helped me figure out what to do with the elk meat. She left early the next morning to be at work. Now, that's a friend indeed!

This month of April will mark the end of her treatments but not the end of her "coming back to living." My friend's struggle with doing those necessary things to return to a healthy throat and swallow, to find the aroma of good food and drink a gift instead of a trial, to be able to speak the words she'd like to when she wants, makes me appreciate her and my own blessings. April is an "Abundant Month" as I think of it. We celebrate the promise and commitment of Easter. Flowers bloom, the weather warms. And I look forward to a time with my friend when she is back to Pilates and walking her dog twice daily and living a full, generous, life with her throat intact. May your April bring you renewed commitments to live fully and with each breath and bite you take, may you be reminded of how precious life - and your throat -- truly is.