Saturday morning

Another week. Two and a half weeks post treatment. Feeling better all the time, although I find myself frustrated that I am not getting past the fatigue and weakness more quickly. Which is silly. In fact, from my body's point of view, this is another post-chemo cycle, like the 5 before it. So no matter how many times I rub the little fuzz left on my poor skull, it's not going to grow any faster. I haven't even hit 3 weeks after chemo, which is -- going back to the 1st chemo -- when hair loss STARTS. They say - and my experience during the radiation "break" from chemo showed - that it takes about 7-8 weeks for hair to start growing back. I also still have the neuropathy thingy in my feet, which got worse through the 6 chemo cycles. At this point, I walk around on feet that feel as if they had fallen asleep (as they say) and started to wake up and gotten about half through waking up and stayed at that point. Kind of half numb, half pins and needles. If I am sitting down, I don't notice it much. But if I walk, it is a really weird and somewhat uncomfortable feeling.

Monday is the CT scan. I am nervous. I'm not sure what I'm nervous about. My brain says that after surgery removing the offending organ that dared to host a cancerous tumor (sarcoma no less), as well as its nearest neighbors, and after 6 months of chemo-therapy and 25 days of radiation, there can't be too much if any thing 'wrong' in there - hopefully every single nasty cancer cell got crushed - but I"m still nervous. Part of my anxiety is the procedure - or really, the barium cocktail. But I think some of it is also the "What if..." This is a question I have to learn to live with ... again. (Don't we all live with "what if" all the time? What if I get sick? What if I get cancer? What if I lose my job? What if...) I know my attitude about the "protocol" that Dr. M and his Tumor Board (ha!) came up with for me was to put my nose to the grindstone and get through it. Okay. That's done now. And I guess I feel up in the air. I am trying to learn to let that feeling be. To feel it as freedom. Not so easy.

Jessie and I went to the park this morning. We were late, from my perspective - we got there about 6:10 am - the sun was already well above the horizon, but perhaps because it is Saturday, we were the first people/dog there. That was nice. We also went on Thursday, when I got up at 5:00 and we made it to the park by 5:30 am. That day we actually saw the sun come up. Still no heron. I'm wondering again whether the heron I saw earlier this month was "my" heron, or a passing visitor. I'm wondering if she was "my" heron, if perhaps I saw her so much last fall because our park is her spring and fall home, and she goes further north for the summer. Perhaps because our spring weather was warm so early, she was thrown off, and just made a quick stop here before heading further north. I guess I'll find out. Meanwhile, the Mallard couples are interesting to watch. All the times I've been to this park, all the times I have seen the dozen or so ducks there, I never realized how they pair up, and stay in pairs. They move around and through the park, feeding in grass, in damp muddy patches left from the rain, in the little streamlets that flow out of the pond in a couple directions. I am looking forward to watching them with care now, and waiting for ducklings, many ducklings.

The tulip garden was in full bloom today. It's beautiful, but I still prefer the Rock Garden where Jessie and I pause sometimes. My favorite place in the park, its plantings less studied, more blending into the background. Jessie likes it because its rocks and rock wall surrounding enclosure is where a number of chipmunks live. She is mad for chipmunks. The difference between a chipmunk and a squirrel to Jessie is like the difference between a Big Mac and prime rib to a meat-eating human - chipmunks being the prime rib in Jessie's case. Not that she's ever tasted a chipmunk (to my knowledge) - but she would sure like to.

I made it back to Tai Chi and the entire class clapped to welcome me back (entire class! okay 7 people!). It was really really good to be back. I also got hugs and general well wishes. I now do my Tai Chi without a hat on - no one's eyes seem to have trouble seeing despite the incredible glare of the fluorescent lights bouncing off the whiteness of my skull. I find I'm comfortable about it. ( In fact, as soon as just a little hair starts coming in - away with the hats in general, not just at home, in the neighborhood and at Tai Chi! I've taken to wearing a baseball-type cap when I go out, except to work where I still wear a "normal" beret type cap)

Thanks to all who wrote, called, emailed and otherwise sent their wishes on the milestone of finishing the chemo. It meant a lot to me. As I come to the end of the treatment phase of dealing with a cancer diagnosis, I realize more than ever how lucky I am - in terms of the type of cancer I have, the treatment I went through, my general health, having insurance, having a job, having good health care close by - but as much and maybe more than ALL of that, because of the people in my life - my kids, who have been there all the way through a long process even when they have both been dealing with so much in their own lives, David who dealt with every hard thing the last 6 months handed out and kept coming back, my local friends - who likewise were always there to listen (and read), to offer support - including practical support like rides, and visits, and food and more - my far off friends, who have stayed in touch as if they were next door, by phone, email; my other family and David's family, co-workers - I mean, really, it's ridiculous almost how kind, how generous, how loyal and supportive everyone has been. It makes me almost (but not quite!!!) want to recommend a bout of cancer to everyone as a way of learning to appreciate the gifts your life has given you.

Now to keep that lesson in the days ahead - even while drinking that (hopefully mocha flavored) barium cocktail on Monday morning!

Peace to all.