I didn't know that the cancer had returned, but I knew that the cancer had returned. When I wrote
If everything turns out to be okay, I won't feel foolish for any of this. I'll just be happy... I'll just be happy, happy, happy.
I was giving the fates one final chance to grant a reprieve.
Denied!
I would have been happy, too. I wasn't making it up. I would have finished up the last few months of the school year, and gone on my first full summer of travel with Eric, pain free and feeling like the luckiest person around.
Two years later my circle is smaller. The universe is wearing out along the path that I take from work to hospital to comfy chair. I have more worries and fewer friends. I have less to say.
I only have so much lament in me, though, and I defintely want to save some for later. Two years is longer than most women with stage IV breast cancer live, and I'm getting ready to meet the fabulous Tomas da Silva for a drink after work. Under the circumstances, it wouldn't feel right to complain.
2 comments:
Martha, so often I feel like writing but don't. I have the problem I'm sure many others have in not knowing what I want to say and not knowing if there really is anything that can be said. That said- I'm out here listening, and I'm sure I'm not alone. -Duane
BTW: who is Tomas da Silva?
Hi Duane -
I appreciate folks who know when there's nothing to say! It's the people who feel that they must say something (although less online than in the fleshy world) who can really tie me into knots. :)
Tomas da Silva is a friend, usually referred to here as "Tom". He's also a baker of exceptional shortbread, and a professinal harpist.
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