I wish it were Sunday (a month or two ago).

I'm at work, sitting here, poised at the corner of freaking out and being numb. I'm afraid I'll take a step in the wrong direction.

As soon as CN came in this morning I told her that I had mets to my bones, and that I hoped and expected to keep working. I told her that I knew she was concerned, and that she would be flexible if I needed flexibility, and that what I really wanted was for work to be "business as usual". I didn't want to talk about it positively, or negatively, or at all.

She seemed to understand.

And while she hasn't stopped talking for more than half a minute since then, she hasn't mentioned cancer.

My darling Eric, who is just a few blocks from me (and what a good feeling that is), is responsible for teaching and supervising and encouraging dozens of teenagers today. That's a hard job under the best of circumstances, and today he's distracted & sad & and generally off his game. I'm sending him all of the strength and love that I can muster.

It's a strange and sad Monday, indeed.