Love.

It was a hard day, but it was still Valentine's Day. Eric gave me a sweet, sweet, card -- he's the best card picker outer -- and a heart shaped box of yummy chocolates, and a funny romantic novel. There's other stuff, too: one of his soft, white, t-shirts to wear... the dinner that he brought in when I was too tired for a celebratory dinner out... hot chocolate... and goodness knows what else. So much other stuff that it's impossible to list.

I was 36 when I was initially diagnosed with cancer, 40 when I was told that I had a distant recurrence. Nothing in my life has been improved by cancer. It hasn't made me a better person, or prompted me to reevaluate my priorities. It hasn't brought me closer to my husband, and he can attest that it hasn't improved my humor.

The only thing I've learned is medical terminology.

But it's given me the opportunity to practice stuff that I already knew, including this: I can't deal with everything at once.

So, I'm going to deal with work tomorrow, and with chemo-sans-port on Friday, and on Saturday I'll rest. If I'm uncomfortable, I'll sit in the leather recliner with my super soft and comfy blanket. If the sun is shining, I'll sit outside. And I'll figure out what to do later later.

That's the plan right now.