Monday evening

Back to the park this morning. Saw the heron scratching in short grass beside the pond.

Then I dropped off the big red (and very heavy, very full) Jug O'Pee at the Cancer Center. While waiting for the valet parking service (can you believe it - valet parking for us cancer patients!) I ran into a woman I know from work. I recognized her; I'm not sure she recognized me. She was clearly wearing a wig. When I dropped off the Jug O'Pee in the second floor lab, she was in the second floor blood room, having blood drawn. Obviously she is going through cancer treatment as well. It was a strange experience; I didn't really realize who she was or how I knew her until she had gotten into her car and driven away.

Then I came home and read for a while, and then walked over to the synagogue and attended Rabbi C's funeral service. There were many many people there; family members spoke and several rabbis and congregants. It was a moving service. I knew him only slightly; at the end of the service I realized that I wished I had had the chance to know him better.

At the service an older woman I used to know well when I attended a different synagogue, but haven't seen in 6 or 7 years, happened to be sitting near me. She leaned over with a mask of pity (okay, maybe it was sympathy) on her face and patted my arm. "Is there anything we can do for you, dear? Do you need anything at all? Meals?" I smiled. "No, thank you, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine." I turned away and waited for the service to start. At some point during the service, she slipped out. Funny, how some people's "sympathy" can be the hardest thing of all to bear. Also I was a big confused about how it was that she came to know my situation. It's not that I want the cancer to be a secret, but there are many people in my own congregation that I am much closer to who I havent' had a chance to tell yet, and yet this person knew. I guess it means that the news will get around. I think it might be a universal response to cancer to want to seem to be - and to be treated as - as "normal" as possible for as long as possible. It's one thing to have a disease; it's another thing to BE a disease.

Anyway, that's my day - so far. I"m feeling gradually increasing nervousness about Wednesday. But what can you do? Best news of the day - under our front door this morning was a little note on which our next door neighbor, M, had written "I think my water may have broken; we're on our way to the hospital." M's and R's first baby - they chose NOT to find out if it was going to be a boy or a girl, which I admire. At any rate, we haven't heard from R yet, which could auger a long and hard labor, but I'm hoping just that the baby has been born, and everyone is tired and thrilled, and focused on family. A new life.

How sweet the thought of it.

Peace.