Thursday, September 16, 2010


Again, this is for people who are not on my e-list.  Love to all.

Hi all,

Today is my birthday, and it's been wonderful. Thank you to everyone who's celebrated with me via Facebook, phone, e-cards, and birthday cake. (Ranch staff, I love you.) I've had an incredible week, actually, and I'm feeling ridiculously alive. I'm also three months into a diagnosis that gives me six, and I feel no worse. My thinking is shifting from, "I could die," to, "I could live. So how do I want to?"

I don't know what the results of my PET scan are. I'm not waiting for that before I send this out, because that's not what it's about. I went looking in my blog from fall '08 to see if I'd told a particular story. I hadn't. (If you know it, I was looking for a reference to when the homeless man gave me communion.) But for those whom I've met more recently, my first round of cancer treatment involved self-injections of interferon three times a week, between July '08 and June '09. (These followed a month of IV infusions.) It made me achy and fatigued and cranky all the time. I found a mention of wanting to focus more energy on praying over the shots when I gave them to myself. It hit me like a kick in the chest--not in a violent way, but, "Ohhh.... I haven't been doing that."

I haven't been praying over these chemo rounds, because I've been too freaked out by them. It's terrifying to know you're going to lose all control of your body. (Throwing up is just a metaphor for everything else that happens.) I hate everything about this. But I'm over the trauma now. I know what's going to happen to me, and I know what isn't. I don't like it, but I know I can tolerate it.

I'm going back to Riverside next Tuesday, 9/21. I'll be admitted from the 22nd to 27th, and fly home on the 28th. Andee's coming with me. She is friend, housemate, and chief caregiver. She also hasn't witnessed this since the first, most hideous, cycle. I know it isn't going to be that traumatic anymore.

Pray for me, like you always do. But also pray with us, because now I can join you. Hold us both, my medical team, and this community that all of you are, in sacred time.



Ann said...

prayers always for you and those who love you - and for Andee - steadfast friend

Rose said...

Thanks for the blessing of letting me be God with skin on for a brief moment in time.
I am looking forward to seeing you both next week.

kat said...

Prayers continue, for you, Andee, everyone. I'm glad to know that yours will be woven in with mine as they ascend. Won't they be beautiful that way?

Loved talking to you tonight. Not talking... laughing. ("Bother. Bother. Bother.")

Love you, my friend.

Mary Beth said...

Lifting you up. Love and prayers.

susankay said...

Honored to join you in prayer.

Anonymous said...

We're praying with you, every day. Wishing you Peace,
with love,
Mary Beth & Mary Lee

Kirkepiscatoid said...

You know my prayers are there, too.