Tomorrow Chemo

Yes, tomorrow is chemo. At this point I feel little like maybe it will happen and maybe it won't. Everything has been so unpredictable. I have no reason to believe that it won't happen, it's just that before my second chemo I had to wait an extra week, and before my originally scheduled third chemo I was in the hospital. So let's just hope that this goes off without a hitch - my WBC are okay, the drugs are in stock, and whatever else that I can't think of won't happen.

I had a really great day today. Took Bennett to school, walked the dog, even got into the studio for an hour. I designed the stained glass that will go over the door in the new bedroom. The thing about being in the studio, is I have to be present in order to make work - I mean really present. And that is hard, because I have to think about all the things I try not to think about all the live long day. So I worked for an hour and that is what I could do before I started getting afraid. Maybe Thursday I can do it for longer knowing that I survived today's hour just fine. The fear did not kill me and it never will.  It's just fear. Frickin', wily-assed fear that is my worst enemy- keeping me from my living the way I want to be in my life.

I also got my hair cut today. I had a great experience with Julie's fab hairdresser at Salon O in Easthampton. She made me cry by not letting me pay. Another example of the incredible generosity that comes to me.

I am not sure always how to take it, but I know everyone just wants to do what they can in a situation that is so disempowering. Is that a word?  How about a situation that scares the shit out of everyone? That's probably more accurate.

Today I heard a story from a friend about a guy who has colon cancer and it is also in his liver. He had surgery and had to have 1/5 of his liver removed. Lucky bastard, is all I could think. Of course I don't know the whole story, and of course I am also very lucky, but it's that same thing that makes me jealous of people who seem to be less full of cancer than I am. I have to remind myself that cancer sucks for everyone who gets it. Period. And that kind of thinking helps no one, and doesn't change a single thing. Not my cancer, not his cancer, not the absence cancer in the other people's bodies.

Okay, so let me keep my eye on the most accessible prize - tomorrow's chemo. I want my little pump back, whispering it's hard work to me for 46 hours, reminding me that we are all working hard to save my life one whoosh at a time.