The Countdown Begins

This time, in a week, I will be in my hospital room. What will I be doing? Who knows, I hope that someone will be petting my head and God will be holding my hand. I have to admit, I am pretty scared. I haven't done this before, and I like to know what I am getting into before I do something. This is something that is totally beyond my ken. My sage friend Julie asked me today if I could boldly choose the surgery- that I could choose not the have it if I liked.

What?!?!?!

Then I realized she was right. In August was so pissed that I didn't get to have surgery first that I talked about my disappointment on and on. I am sure it got boring. So here I am a week before surgery and I am going to boldly choose the surgery. It is step two to saving my life. And I want to live. I can boldly choose life saving measures, and I just forgot surgery is precisely that - a life saving measure.

I will take my fear and examine it. I will live with it and know that it's all part of going into something totally unknown. I am afraid of being afraid, of being lonely in the hospital, of missing Pat and Bennett, of missing my house. All things I have said before, but they are still with me so I will keep talking about them.

Bennett and I went for a walk in the snow today. Talk about boldly choosing life. She is about as engaged in life as a being can be. In her new mouse hat that I made for her for Christmas (it was supposed to be a dog hat, but she immediately called it a mouse hat, okay by me), we played in the snow. I felt life so keenly, so perfectly wonderful. I must fight for more days like today. Like a flippin' warrior.

Happy Boxing Day

I am not really sure what Boxing Day is, but I know my sister, Mary, who lives in England is having a jolly good time about now. I had a good Boxing Day, celebrated by going to church and spending most of the day with Bennett and the Ipad. The storm is here, and it is very quiet except the wind and the plows.

So that means it's up in the air about getting to Worcester for my pre-op testing tomorrow. I will call them in the morning and see if they are up and running, then we will make a decision about safety, etc. I am anxious to get the tests done and then on to what feels like my last week of freedom.

I know I am supposed to keep my head out of the future, that Nancy would say that the future is God's business, but I am anticipating a lot of time healing and having to be still and quiet. I am trying not to think about pain, because I know that those folks at UMASS are expert at pain management and I will not be in pain if they can help it. So let me stay out of god's business and stay in today.

This is what I have today. I have a loving and lovely family - and extended family and friends. I have a beautiful Christmas tree and a funny dog who loves me. I have two cats who are a pain, but are fuzzy and sweet. I have good friends who love me and call every day to see how I am doing. I have a sister who is willing to come to help me for three weeks of her life. What gifts are these? How can my life be so good while I fear losing it?  I just have to remind myself over and over that I am not dead, that my life is still in me. That I am here and the fear is welcome to get the hell out of here.

Short Sunday

It was a quiet day around here. We had a nice visit from our very pregnant friend, Susan. She was glowing and it's nice to know there will be a new baby around soon. She made me a very handsome hat, see above. Boy, do I love babies. All this cancer stuff made me forget that. Pat and Liz wrangled an elliptical trainer into the house and we have a line on a treadmill. Pat insisted on tackling Walmart the Sunday before Christmas to get B a scooter. She is going to love it.

I mostly stayed on the couch. B is still getting over a cold and I wanted her to be a quiet as possible. You know that means lots of Ipad and a few rousing games of Hi Ho Cherri-o.

While on the couch, I mostly fretted and did more crossword puzzles and a little knitting. I am not quite right and I think it's because mortality is a bitch. I know that I can't just give my life over to fear, that if my life is going to be shorter than I'd expected, do I really want to sit around and worry about dying? And all the grief around that? No. But that seems to be what I am doing. I have just got to stop. I get moments of real clarity, of feeling connected to the world and life, but mostly I feel half shut down. And I know that is no way to live.

I have big plans for tomorrow. I am going to Trader Joe's then I will listen to my tapes and have a nap. I have not been grocery shopping for months. We are really trying to get ready for January. I got the sleeping stuff I needed and ordered two big bags of dog food. When will Holyoke get grocery delivery?I can't wait.

Next we are going to arrange the beds so there are plenty of places to sleep and agreed to heat the house at whatever temperature we need it to be - and not worry about the bill. My valiant sister Mary is coming to help for three weeks. I am so blessed to have such resources.

That reminds me, I went to church with Ruth this morning. It was good. St Paul's is such a sweet place, I heard someone say it was the little church that could. I believe that.

I am off for the night, I am going to try to work on the blue doggy hat that B has been asking for. I am pretty sure she is going to ask why it's not pink the moment she sees it. But that's okay, I think she will like the ears enough to live with the blue.

Why Didn't I Post?

I don't know. I could feel the difference in my mood today and I attribute part of it to not posting last night. The rest I give to the dreary weather and my general Monday anxiety. We had a home day, which we both sorely needed. Not that I get out that much, but it was nice not to go anywhere and have B stay in her PJs all day long. She had a slight fever, so it was good to be home so I could coax her into taking her tylenol and drinking tons of fluids.

Today she added containers of Playdoh to the Christmas tree. Not under, but on the tree. I think this tree is just going to end up with lots of weird decorations. We have two bags of presents under the tree. Both bags were left at the front door with no way to tell who they are from. So, if it was one of you guys, thanks. Really, it's nice to be the recipients of such generosity. I just truly wish I knew who to thank.

I am incredibly anxious about the surgery today. I had to take extra Atavan. As an aside, I had an interesting conversation with my acupuncturist about Atavan. She told me of this woman she admired who had cancer, terrible anxiety and a lot of clarity about how important it was to take her anti-anxiety meds. She was just really accepting of the fact that they made her life a whole lot easier and better and she didn't have any qualms about taking them. I have been trying to channel that kind of ease around my meds. So today when my now 5am half an Atavan stopped working around 2, I took another half and my life was so much better.

Did I write about the 5am Atavan? I don't think so. My therapist told me that the key to anxiety, pain and nausea is to stay ahead of them. If you get too far into any one of them, it's hard for the meds to catch up. So she suggested that since I wake at around 5 every morning anyway, to not wait until I felt the anxiety, but to just take half an Atavan under my tongue and go back to bed. It works like a charm. Now I can actually go back to sleep and wake up not anxious. I think my therapist knows a lot of tricks about drugs. I like that.

I think I will be less anxious about the surgery after my appointment with the surgeon on Friday. I keep reminding myself that these guys are experts at pain management. My mom, who had her hips replaced, said that she felt very well taken care of pain-wise. She also mentioned that the pre-op is handled very well, very gently. I hope that will be true at UMASS too.

I have to go now. All of this is making me want to cry. Crying without eyelashes is very messy. You wouldn't believe how big tears really are until they are no longer filtered through lashes. I hope you never have to find this out.

Post 111

This is my 111th post. I can't believe it. I think 110 posts ago, I thought I would be dead by now. Cancer has such a bad reputation, that it's hard not to think you are going to drop dead at any moment. I supposed that might be true if you had a bad heart or something, but my guess is if I am going to die, they will let me know a few weeks or months ahead of time.

My God how did I get onto that subject. I have had a worrying day. Not for you to worry about, but I have been worrying. What about? Mostly silly things like is my head going to be cold while I am in the hospital? My hair looks so bad, I am worried about not being in control of having a hat on all the time. This strange vanity is also a bit worrying, now that I think about it. I just have to give it all up to God. That's the answer, and I know it. I have to give up the parts that I can't control - like how Pat is going to manage. She totally will, but I hate to think of all she is going to have to do. I am worried that Bennett is going to accidentally hurt me while I am healing. I am afraid that Pat will get snowed in while visiting me at the hospital, I am worried that I am going to have to spend so many hours alone at the hospital, I am worried that they will open me up and find something they didn't know about and just have to sew me back up. This is just the tip of the worry-berg.

It's funny to go from one day of feeling groovy, to the next of not feeling that groovy at all. I feel like saying that fear is a fickle friend, but I am not sure that makes any sense. I guess it means that today fear was a visiting, and yesterday he must have been at someone else's house.

On the brighter side. We got our tree today. It's little- only just over 5 ft. Bennett was more interested in playing on the playground where we got the tree than getting the tree, but once we got the box of ornaments out, she was totally into it. She hung most of the ornaments- luckily most of them are plastic.

No one else is up right now, so here I am with the tree. Take a moment to notice just by my right (to you) ear the sock hanging on the tree. When we ran out of ornaments, B decided she would start hanging the laundry on the tree. We stopped her at two socks.

B also found two of her presents today and does not believe me that Santa took all of the Amazon.com boxes with him to wrap the presents and will bring them back on Christmas morning. Boy, it is hard to wait for Christmas when the concept of time is so abstract.

That's all for today. I am going to go with my intuition and not ask the surgeon to say affirmations. I am going to believe with all my heart that God and you all will be watching over me that day and the he (the surgeon) needs to do his job unhindered.  It just seems like the experts should be doing what they are supposed to be doing. You guys praying and sending light, the surgeon operating. Right? Right.

Change of Plans

Just a super quick post tonight. Stayed in bed most of the day and only got out of bed to go to Barnes and Noble to watch B perform with her school. We may have been the only parents there without a camera. Luckily Aunt Julie saved the day and took this picture of B with Curious G.

They look a lot alike - curious...

The change of plan is the surgery is not until after Christmas. Still don't know the date, but Dr B called last night to say there was a misunderstanding between him and the surgeon about when my last chemo was. We have to wait a little longer until my WBC recover and the chemo is not so fresh. I sort of feel like I am going to get a nice break- then I remember that surgery part.

The timing change is good in some ways and bad in others. I like to get things done, so was happy to think it might happen in the next week or two. It gives us more time to prepare and arrange for help. We are going to be calling on all of you - 4-6 weeks recovery is a long time. Postponing also gives me more time to worry about what it's going to be like.

I have had a good experience at that hospital, so I am happy about that. I am worried about the pain, getting snowed in, all kinds of things.

I am not going to get into it, it's just the game fear is playing with me. Screw you, fear, get out.

Tonight an early night to bed and hopefully deep deep sleep. That is what I need.

Tomorrow's The Day

And I have been wigged out all day. I couldn't even relax during reflexology. The music was wrong, I had terrible thoughts zooming in and out of my mind, it was a bad scene. I called my mom who told me to find something distracting and hard. So I downloaded some puzzles on my Ipad and spent the evening with Bennett doing puzzles. They weren't hard, but they were distracting - as was Bennett and her lovely way.

Aunt Julie will have B while we travel the miles to get to Worcester, return the pump then wait for Dr B. I keep trying to picture him as a saint to help me see him as a benevolent force, but it's hard. Pat and I decided we don't need to know the details of the scans, we just need to know what we are going to do moving forward. If this chemo is not working, then what? If it is, how long do we do it until the next scan or whatever kind of check I am supposed to get?

I have friends who have loved their oncologists. I really wanted that to be true for me too. I want to love Dr B. I want to connect with him and feel like we are working on this project together. I don't know what's missing. I think it must be my aching fear that I suffer from every time I see him. Our very first meeting I had to put my head between my legs to not hyperventilate. I think of myself as pretty tough, but in this case I need softer delivery of information. But really how can this kind of information be delivered any way but how I hear it through the fear-filter.

So I will know a lot more tomorrow and hopefully I will feel like posting it. If I need to hide under the covers and not post, I know you will understand. I am actually doing more stewing than posting, so I should stop soon. I want to be a braver more graceful person. I want to write a post about how we are going to Worcester and are sure we are going to get good news. It's hard to feel that way, when most often it hasn't been true. Maybe tomorrow will be my day where it all turns around and I start to love my oncologist.

Scan Tomorrow

Yikes! I am nervous. I am trying not to be, because I know exactly what happens when you get a CT scan. I will describe it for those of you who have not had the pleasure. First you can't eat or drink anything four hours before the procedure - since my scan is at 8:45 that pretty much means nothing after I fall asleep tonight. You get there, they put you in a Johnny gown and then the worst part - you have to drink about four or five cups of this nasty nasty liquid that is flavored in a way that is supposed to cover the taste (so far I have had coconut twice and eggnog once - how about a nice chocolate? Eggnog? Really.) of the radio isotopes or whatever they are putting in me to make my insides light up. Then I have to wait an hour for the liquid to travel throughout my digestive system. Then just before the scan. two more indignities - another cup of nasty goop and a shot of something through an IV that literally makes you feel like you've wet your pants right there. It is the most uncanny feeling. Then they strap your arms over your head, and put you in a giant donut shaped machine that tells you when to breathe and not breathe and makes a lot of banging noise. The room is freezing and dark and loud, and for some reason the light is always blue. I wish I could remember how long the scan takes, I remember the PET scan was 26 minutes because I asked while I was stuck in a claustrophobic beige tube. I only opened my eyes once and then started praying like mad. It was really scary.

This is nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to a liver biopsy which is about the worst procedure I've ever experienced in my life. I am not even going to continue writing about it, just know it was horrible and I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy (if I had one).

As procedures go - liver biopsy worst, PET scan second worst, CT scan not that bad. Honestly, it's the week long wait for what the tumor board has to say that is going to be the hardest. I am just trying to give it to God and hope for the best. What is the best? Totally spontaneous remission. Okay, if I can't have that, I will take significant tumor shrinkage. So, put on your best light gathering equipment and send that light my way. Pray, gather and send light, light a candle, whatever, just think tiny disappearing tumors.  Thanks,

I will get the results on Friday, Dec 3 at 1. I will, of course, be posting about it that night - good or bad. You all deserve to know asap since we are all in this together.

Thanksgiving Eve

So, it's the night before Thanksgiving and all is quiet. Bennett is sleeping, Pat is poking around the kitchen and I am posting. Not much to report, except I have a new meditation recording that both times I listened to it, at the end I was hungry. I haven't been hungry in months. I have been eating what and when I need to, trying in many cases not to taste, but just to get it down. What is this hunger about? I don't know, but I ate and it was good. Don't get me wrong, I ate an Ensure shake that I make with peanut butter and ice cream - about 700 calories. I make one every day, and it is helping me maintain my weight. You'd think, what a treat, but after a few weeks, it's just another thing to get through - like all the pills.

I digress, the new mediation recording was sent home with Pat from our friend Bobbin, who scoured the library for healing books and CDs. I am going to have Pat listen to this one. It's intense because part of it is imagining one year from now, five years, ten years from now in a healthy body doing the things you love. It's the first time in a long time that I've thought even beyond the next year. Beyond chemo, surgery, pain, hospice, death. You all know, because you all are here with me.

I had a pretty good day. I walked the dog with Pat, came home and took a nap at 9am- I crashed for about an hour and half. That was a surprise. Then we picked up Bennett who had a half day at school, played with her, took another nap. This was not a sleeping nap, but listening to the above mentioned recordings. I am so grateful to have had enough energy to play blocks with B when I got up and then hang out with Aunt Ruth.

I am going to try to maintain an attitude of gratitude for the time being. Remind me if I slip back into gallows mode. Sometimes it's hard for me to get out of it without some pushing and pulling. I have it on good authority from my friend Kathy that gratitude can combat the chemical response of anxiety and fear. I will keep you posted.

Not Much to Say Day

It's been a relatively uneventful day. I still look into the pit of fear once and awhile, but not as much as yesterday. I feel pretty good, I still have some bone pain in my back and upper neck, but not too bad. I was so sure that this week was going to be me in bed feeling awful, but it hasn't been too bad. I did spend quite a bit of time in bed today, just because I could. It was really really good for me to just remember that I was working on healing from chemo and fighting cancer- and that could be what I spend my day doing.

That and playing with Bennett. I took care of her for about four hours this morning and we played a lot of good games. And it is really hard to resist when she says "come on Mom-o dance with me." So we did some dancing, and I loved it. And lovely Sally brought over some grapefruit juice. She is the one who told me about how great grapefruit juice is - it cuts through the dirty sock taste in my mouth and is just right at night.

Pat is working, I am posting, Bennett is sleeping and now I am going to zone out a little. Thanks for your comments, I really count on them to keep my spirits up - so keep them coming.

Chemo Yesterday

Yep, got chemo and was so exhausted I went to bed at about 6:30 last night - so no post. Not posting is one of the last things I thought of before I fell asleep. This is what I was going to post "Got hit by a truck, got up, got hit by a truck again, stay tuned for news of my miraculous survival." But I just couldn't get up the energy.  That does pretty much feel accurate.

Right now I am pretty okay. Freaked out about everything as usual. I just wish I could get more hours of the day when I am not scared out of my boots, as my mom says. I have moments when my mind is still and then I snap out of it. I have some great relaxation tapes that help, but I need stillness to be a greater part of my life. Any ideas of how to get there? I will take any and all tips.

Tomorrow I give my pump back and get my first Neulasta shot. Then I have my CT scan on the 27th. I won't know anything about it until Dec. 3 at the earliest. That is the date Dr. B. will present my case to the Tumor Board. That's the multidisciplinary team that decides what the next course of action is. I am having chemo on the 1st, so my guess is that the TB will recommend more chemo. The other choice would be surgery, which you all know I want. It's not really an option until my liver clears up a little. There are so many tumors on my liver that it is not operable at the moment - it might be different from this course of chemo, but Dr. B. said that would be unlikely. The thing about Dr. B. is that he has to tell me a lot of bad news, so I think he's more of an asshole than he really is. Since I met with him yesterday, I think he's a pretty big one. One day he will give me good news and I will think he is a saint, until then,,,

Thanks for all the well-wishes yesterday, they were well needed and appreciated. I am pretty tired right now and have to get a very sad and tired Bennett off to bed. I am not sure what the matter is, but as you can imagine she is stressed out too. It's pretty likely she doesn't know what the matter is either. How that breaks my heart.

A Good Friday

Just a quick one - a break for those of you who have been reading my super-long posts.

Therapy was good. Liked her a bunch and will be going back. Had a slight panic attack this evening, but am better now. Had a nap, and almost murdered Zeus for barking at the UPS guy and waking me up. Finished the stained glass for above the door in the new bedroom. It looks really cool. Did some laundry.

That was my day. In there also was the same fear and worry that I have every day. Do I have to have it for the rest of my life? Let's hope not. I also have a lot of that feeling that I should be a better person, and braver person and not have so much fear. But I will remember when I can, that courage is feeling the fear and doing the thing anyway. Does it count if you feel the fear, take Atavan, and do the thing anyway? Does that still count as courage? I think it does.

I Hate This Blog

I hate that I have this blog, because it means I have cancer. I just read the Five Stage of Grief and I am so in stage two that I am embarrassed.


Anger – "Why me? It's not fair!"; "How can this happen to me?"; "Who is to blame?" Once in the second stage, the individual recognizes that denial cannot continue. Because of anger, the person is very difficult to care for due to misplaced feelings of rage and envy. Any individual that symbolizes life or energy is subject to projected resentment and jealousy.


There it is. My shame. I have nothing else to say except it's not a nice place to be in - to feel so much jealousy and anger. It brings me to sad bitter tears. I feel like such a meany, so unChristian-like, so sad. I know it must be normal if it's written down, but  I still don't like it. And now that I read it again, I am not sure I am  "very difficult to care for." And it's not true that any individual is a target for me. Mostly I feel jealous of freedom of movement - both literal and metaphorical. I feel weak and fatigued so I can't do much. I have a lot of crap going around in my head, so even if I can move I can't get away from myself. My head. My crap-filled head.


I didn't post last night because I just needed a night where I didn't have to end up crying in front of the computer or really digging into how I am feeling. I just needed a night with a stupid movie and Pat and for those two hours I honestly forgot that I am a cancer patient who has a ton of anxiety and fear and fatigue. I was just a person watching a semi-funny movie. Is that too much to ask?


As you all know, this blog has just about saved my sanity, but I might be going through a phase where it's hard for me to bare all. Or maybe not, because this seems pretty much like baring it all.

Just a Few Lines

Tonight I learned that courage is being afraid and still doing. That I can do. So here's to courage and love and all things that are good.

More tomorrow after chemo. Wish me plenty of WBC!

The Days Get Better

Ask and you shall receive, that is the lesson for me today. I asked my friend Ruth for help to better understand if I was lying (thanks, Mom) in bed because I was chemo-ized or paralyzed from fear. It turns out the answer is both, but she helped me work out a lot of my fear. It's hard and exhausting work to try to get to the kernel of what is going on. Nothing that is much of a surprise. Mostly afraid of the amorphous future and dying.

Fricking, fracking, wily fear. You are not welcome here. GO away.

And mostly it did. Thank God. I truly mean it, thank God. I was so filled with fear I couldn't really move without worrying that I was going to break. Literally break into a million pieces. I guess that what writers mean when they say someone is shattered. I felt like that would happen to me if I moved too quickly. So, again, there was crying and gnashing of teeth, then there was a peaceful walk around the neighborhood and some other realizations. I have been spending too much time by myself. What to do about that is hard to know. I am not up for a job, and mostly everyone has a job. I'll keep you posted. I bet if I don't feel like I am paralyzed by fear, it will be easier to get into the studio. That's being alone, but it's not lonely.

While I finished my walk I realized I would be home alone, so I called Pat to see if she could come home with Bennett. We all arrived home at the same time. A lovelier afternoon than expected, a nice time talking with Pat while Bennett consumed her weight in noodles. Some excellent soup and reading books to B before bed. That feels like getting my life back. What's nice is not feeling the fear pumping through my chest all of the time. I thought that was the chemo. I am very tired, a good physical tired, from the walk and the crying. It's a nice change from being stunned.

Just a Quick One

Had a less hard day today, not great, but okay. Spent a lot of time under the duvet on the futon worrying and being anxious. There was crying and gnashing of teeth, but I think I am 75% better.  Pat stayed home from work to work on the house and to work on me. It helped to hear her banging around and to come comfort me every once and awhile.

There still is nothing new, the best way I can put yesterday's freak out is that is felt like I was getting the diagnosis all over again. And it will happen again and again during this process. I just have to know that and assimilate it so that it doesn't knock me out every time. I am not sure how I will do this, but I am going to try with all my might.

I don't have much else to say. I had reflexology today. It was wonderful, as always. I did not want to leave the table. I felt like if I just stayed there, I would be okay for the rest of my life. Alas, I had to get up and go out into the world. Luckily there was a big rainbow in the sky when I got outside. That reminded me that I am not alone - the you all are with me. That God is with me. That we are all in this as together as we can be - while I actually get the treatments.

Meeting with Dr. B

Today I had my big meeting with Dr. Bathini. I came out of there terrified for my life. I didn't really learn anything new, just that he has a way of presenting information in such a stark way that I feel knocked down. There's nothing new to report, and I know that logically, but logic is lost to me in this situation. I still have the same cancer I did yesterday, I still know that I will never go back to being who I was before I was diagnosed - physically that is. I get that surgery, if any, is a long way away. My liver is a mass of tumors and my lymph nodes are a mess. I get all that. It's just hearing it all again, in the doctor's office while he is trying desperately to help me remember there is so much good news. So many advances in the medication, so many people living much longer than they ever imagined, so many new procedures and drugs.

This all well and good, but what I really wanted to do was shake him by the lapels and yell. Yell anything, things like "am I going to live?" "will I die a very painful death?" "what the hell are you talking about, this can't be my body you are talking about."

Now we are getting somewhere. How could all of this be about me? Me, the one who has always been so strong and healthy? How can it be that on July 25th I was healthy (or thought I was) and July 26th I have stage four colon cancer? How long has this been growing in me and I didn't know it? How come I didn't have any symptoms? I can't tell you how many hours I have wracked my brain to figure out if I missed something, did I have some sign that I ignored? Maybe, I just can't remember.

It's just rotten filthy bad luck and nothing to be done. I've cried, prayed, talked, taken an Atavan, it all helps. But, at the same time none of it helps. It doesn't change anything, it makes me feel better, sure. But the cancer is still there.

I am trying so hard to remember what Julie said to me this afternoon, she really gets into trouble when she is living in the future. The present is not terrifying- it just is what it is. What is my present? Pat is helping Bennett to go to sleep. I am posting and getting ready to lie down for the evening. I should eat some of the soup Kate brought by, but my appetite is nowhere to be found. My present is feeling the physical leftovers of the fear I've been fighting all afternoon. My mouth tastes like dirty socks - that's from the chemo. I have a headache from holding myself together. Zeus needs a bath and it looks like we have a line on a new car.

If I let it, fear will steal my life from me. Honestly, I don't know how long my life will be, why would I give it up to something as useless as fear? As my friend Ruth says, "fear, I scoff at you, Ha Ha!" The thought of saying that right now makes me want to have a break down, so maybe I will leave the scoffing for later, when I am a little less teary and a little more steady on my feet, feelings-wise.

No Title Today

You might want to get your tissues out for this one. I know I have mine. No, nothing happened, I did not get any bad news. I did spend the day very sad. So I thought I would post about it. It's all well and good to try to present as well and good, but some days are just very hard.

I was weepy all day. Just sad as can be. I thought the thoughts I didn't want to think and they did me in. I thought a lot about loss and how hard it would be for Pat and Bennett if I died. That is enough to get me going again. What would happen to my piles of artwork, what would happen if Pat decided to sell this place where we live? What would happen to Bennett's heart - would it break in an irreparable way? What about my people, all of my people, what happens to them? I become another story of someone they knew who died from cancer. Why are there so many of these f*ing stories?

Fear and anxiety have been my companions today. They were not invited, but they came anyway. They seem to have a key to the house. Bastards.

Then I went to reflexology with the Magic Maryann. She told me to think of life like a Japanese garden - you can only see the next ten steps, and the next steps will only be revealed with each step taken. I get into real trouble when I get ahead of myself. I am not dead. I am not dying. I am certainly not dying in the next ten days (barring some unfortunate accident, which could happen to any of us, blah blah blah). Bennett will be the blazing spirit on this earth that she is no matter what happens.

Pat reminds me that we have to believe that I am going to live. And that reminds me that I have to do things like place the books order for Bennett's class and call the drywall guy to do the Gallery. And, for goodness sakes, find a therapist. I have been trying, but the one I called today lost her husband to cancer and I didn't think she would make a good match for me. I want someone who has a spouse who lived. I want my therapist to think that cancer is something we survive. Period.

I will quote my mother again - I don't want to die, I just want to know what happens. My mother is going to be 82 in March, God bless her, and I want her to find out what happens too. I want us all to know what happens. Enough said.

Another Not Goodbye

This is my great sister, Janna, who came to visit today. This was definitely not a Good Bye visit. This was about as "hello" as you can get. Super fun and interesting, this sister of mine. I can't wait to see her again, for longer. And the very least at the family reunion in July - which feels so far away from now. I can't even imagine what kinds of things will happen between now and then. Don't get me started.

This is me showing my receding hairline and Janna showing off her gray that looks blond to me. We took a drive to see Mt Holyoke College and Smith College. The campuses looked beautiful with some orange and red trees and their glorious brick and stone buildings. 

Tomorrow is chemo. It's on my mind. I am a little worried, even though I have to say the two weeks between this chemo and last have been pretty good. I have had only one or two days that left me feeling less than human. I have had fear and anxiety, but that's not the chemo. The days that I had to spend in bed - that is the chemo. So I hope you will all send good chemo healing prayers and thoughts my way tomorrow. And here is Bennett showing us her ducky slipper.

I've Got Life On My Mind

All day today I've been a little jittery. Just feeling really good physically and able to do much more than even yesterday. It makes me a little nervous. You know, when is it going to end? Am I going to do something to mess it up? Eat the wrong thing? Forget to take my meds? Over do it? All things that are super easy to do when you are just a little jittery but feeling physically finer than usual.

I figured out why I have been so jittery. It will come as no surprise that how long I am going to live is really on my mind. I can usually remind myself that no one has any guarantees, etc., but today (and yesterday) that comfort has been elusive. So it finally struck me while I was reading a Dora book to Bennett, yes, I am going to live. As a matter of fact I am living right now. Does the actual number of years I get in the future really matter. Not really. It's all so abstract - why not be here, now? It was like a bolt of lightening hit me - all that worrying just getting in the way. For what? For nothing, that's what. I will never know the answer, none of us do. We all hope for a good 80 or 90 or 100 years, but none of us knows. While this might scare the crap out of you, it makes me feel so much better.

Just like this blog makes me feel better. It's like a layer of anxiety washes off of me every night when I post. It's freeing to be able to write how I feel and know that people I love will read it and feel it with me. I have to acknowledge that I am asking you all to do something that is hard - to come on this journey with me. It's not been easy, and it will get harder. But then it will get easier again, so hang in there. Thank you all so much for your well wishes and your offers of help. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and will call on you when we need help. For now we are muddling through and plan on hiring someone to come clean a couple of times a month. That will help so much.

I'll keep you posted.