It feels so early!

Today is Eric's first official day back at work. Monday is his first day with students. Eric's job requires much more energy and effort than mine. For the first few weeks, in particular, he has to set the tone for the year. It's hard to recover if you start the year in a less authoritative position.

Our calenders fill so quickly. Busy, busy. Everyone knows that times speeds up as we get older. They yap about it all the time at the district office. Each school year accelerates and the days (seasons, years) fly by like so many fiery comets.

I want the giant heel of God to fall out of the celestial go cart and start dragging the universe into a major slow down.

I don't even care when. God could extend the most benign moment, and I'd be thrilled. Three months to tie my shoe laces? Fine. A 20-minute commute turned into something turtle-like and two days? Fine. Just slow it down.

Gots to go to work....

Work day 189 of 190

I miss summer already!

My first official day back was just fine, but I'd rather be on vacation. I've been reviewing immunization compliance at all of the schools. Things look better than I'd anticipated. I was so distracted at the end of last year that I've been concerned that I didn't leave my ducks in a row.

Happily, my ducks are in a row.

NM has been in the office but CN isn't expected until tomorrow. It's disconcerting (to say the least) to have a nurse hovering around you, waiting for you to keel over dead. I hope she's gotten over that.

School Days, School Days

Today's my first official day of work. It seems that I will be late for my first official day of work.

It's a strange thing. The impulse is to bemoan this day, and to think: well, only 190 work days and then I'll be free for another fabulous summer.

This really lends new meaning to "wishing your life away". At the end of this school year I'll have lived for approximately one quarter of the remaining days my onocologist predicted for me. It was an off-the-cuff-prediction. It's all a shot in the dark. Still...

Also: I would like the world to tuck cotton around Eric today. Whatever it is you do -- prayers, white light, good thoughts -- let's pump up the jam for Mr. Price, who's as worried, scared, and sad as I am (and sometimes more).

Psychic Healers of the Phillipines Can Kiss My Motherfucking Ass

Sometimes I wish that someone could comfort me. Eric makes life easier and infinitely more joyful than it would be without him. Eric makes the worst situation bearable and the best situation better. Eric is constant and unshakeable and I love him with all of my heart. I loved him with all of my broken heart, when I met him... and now I love him with the full heart that he -- really -- healed.

Still, I want someone to tell me something both true and hopeful about my future.

I'm grateful for the women I talk to who share this disease. They're the ones who get it. They understand balancing act between fear and productivity. The know that quality of life isn't just a catchy phrase. I'm not grateful to all the people my friends know who had some other disease, and who are now "cured". I'm not grateful for all of the people who had cancers with very low long term survival rates who survived. A very low long term survival rate is different from NO long term survival.

I'm not grateful for the opportunities I have to tell people that I'm dying. It's not easy to say and it doesn't comfort me to say it. I don't want to have to tell anyone more than once.

Anyone who thinks they could have cancer better than me -- with more hope, vigor, or willingness to try alternative therapies -- is welcome to try. Honestly, though, I hope they don't have to. Because it sucks. And it kills you.

Really.

I can't believe I start work for reals on Tuesday.

Working this week has been just fine. I've spent most of my time pouring over students' registrations, checking to see if they've met immunization requirements.

I'm just tired, though!

Sara didn't make the cut at the American Idol audition, but she came away with interesting stories 'bout how it all works. Last night Eric, Valentine, Sara, and I went to the Alley along with Mr. Tom Silva. It was fun but a late night for me.

Tonight we expect Graham and Leah to arrive. Tomorrow night we expect my brother Paul and neice Rosemary to arrive.

As for me... I'm off to work soon.

Sleepy me!

I went to see my oncologist today -- nothing dramatic or important. The waiting room was full of sad looking people. Imagine!

One woman's name was called and she stood to follow the nurse back into the examination room area. Several feet down the hall she looked over her shoulder, turned, and said, "Are you coming?"

Her husband grumblemumbled, "I guess so," and joined her.

Tonight we will have a houseguest. Valentine is Leah's mother. She's in town to support her daughter Sara (Leah's sister), who is standing in line tonight to audition for American Idol tomorrow. I hope she makes it!

Tomorrow night both Valentine and Sara will be staying with us.

I am tired. I am deeply, deeply, tired. There's nothing else I can say that will carry as much truth as those words, so I think I'll call it a night.

Tuesday

Working yesterday wasn't so bad. I'm going in today, as well. There's plenty to do.

Eric and I spent almost every moment (waking and sleeping) together this summer. Truly, we've never spent so many hours together, and we've spent a lot of hours together.

Still, I miss him and I'm sad that we have to start working and stop hanging out. I just can't get enough of that fella. I'd give up anything to be healthy again. I'd crawl to the far ends of the earth. But I wouldn't give up Eric. I'd rather die at 40 with him than live to be 100 without him.

I'm off to work again today. I'm not sure when the nurses get back, but I think it could be today. I'll give a full report of CN when she arrives.

CT Scan Results

I went to work today. I don't officially start until the 23rd but there's plenty to do in preparation for the beginning of the year.

I spoke with my oncologist tonight about my ct scan results. No change in the cancer in my sternum (none expected so quickly anyway), no change in my lungs, and a decrease in the size of my lymph nodes. Unless I have unusual symptoms before then, I'll have another ct scan in four months.

That's the story!

Feels like fall today.

I've been buying Back to School clothes. I've liked doing this, even though I'm not "a shopper". It's some kind of a throwback to childhood, but now I have my own money and no one telling me what kind of shoes to buy. It feels like progress.

For me, Autumn has always been a combo-pak of happiness and sentimentality and melancholy. This year, of course, it's hard to avoid The Countdown.

In a way this feels incredibly petty to me. Everyone's dying, and some folks die very quickly. We all know someone (or at least of someone) who was diagnosed with cancer and was gone three months later. We all are familiar with folks who died suddenly of strokes or heart attacks or unfortunate accidents.

Yet here I am, going on & on ...

Really, though, all I want is to be with Eric. The two of us, side by side, in 10, 15, 20, 25 years. Facing the same direction, looking out into the world, and holding hands. Anything other than that just doesn't seem fair.

Friday Morning

Breast cancer message boards have a steady trickle of contributors who die. Some of the more active boards probably average about one woman a week.

They will suddenly become less active on the board. They'll stop responding to other people's posts, but will drop in a few times with their own updates: tumor markers rising, scraping the bottom of the chemo barrel, pain quite bad and wondering if anyone has tried a different pain med...

Soon another woman from the board, who is in phone contact the woman and/or her family, starts posting updates. Angela's in the hospital, please send prayers. Infection under control, but Angela's still weak. Angela appreciates the cards, and hopes to be back on her feet soon. Angela's husband says that it's time for hospice, and thanks you for the prayers.

A few weeks later there's a post from her husband or sister: Thank you all. You gave her so much support and it meant a great deal to her.

There's a small movement afoot to change the language that is used to describe metastatic breast cancer. There are women who have been told by their physicians that what they have is a "chronic" condition -- as opposed to a terminal condition.

Needless to say, these women hold this thought very close to their hearts, despite the fact that it's not true. I don't think many people with diabetes would be lining up to trade places with women with bone and liver mets.

There are other women who believe that a cure is just around the corner. They believe it even more strongly than endtimers think the rapture'll be in their lifetime.

Anyway... whatever you call it... Darlene Weaver died yesterday. Her sister says her passing was peaceful and in the arms of her loving husband.