tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post6585225010236712327..comments2024-02-20T00:10:20.214-06:00Comments on KatyDid Cancer: Day 266: Emily Dickinson's ChickenUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post-63438055881864763362011-02-04T17:10:55.192-06:002011-02-04T17:10:55.192-06:00Ultimately I think you're doing pretty well, t...Ultimately I think you're doing pretty well, too. Death has got to be a strange traveling companion. Just try to control what you can, let go of what you can't, and don't be too hard on yourself for your "bullshit," because that's part of life and you are still living. And if it's validating in any way, yeah, your hair does look really different and will take time to get used to. To be clear: I think it looks good, very stylish and elegant. But, of course, many things are different along with the many things that are still the same. The new normal... it takes time to absorb.Juliehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15004173055166404126noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post-20478567538236546672011-01-29T12:46:40.948-06:002011-01-29T12:46:40.948-06:00I definitely can't come up with a post eloquen...I definitely can't come up with a post eloquent enough to match your writing, but follwing your blog makes it so clear that you are so strong!! This cancer takes a beating out of us, and yes, every little pain triggers the thought of a recurrence, which is so scary. However, after 10 months of being part of cancer, I am slowly - very, very slowly - learning that we cannot let it take over our lives. There is the rowing to do, the kids to chase after, and yes, those dentist visits. Even the normal so important for our soul and I am glad to see that you are aprtaking in those activities. Stay strong!<br /><br />B.<br />(P.S. - I've made it a rule not to read medical stuff online 2 hours before bedtime; seems to be helping a little).- B.https://www.blogger.com/profile/00846148693256289066noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post-37204565678033385092011-01-28T07:56:40.541-06:002011-01-28T07:56:40.541-06:00Well, for once I am at a loss for words. I don...Well, for once I am at a loss for words. I don't want to follow EITHER one of you. <br />But of course<br /><br />I will.<br /><br />It's not cancer hon, it's rowing. Any time aspirin takes away the pain, it's arthritis. I would say find another hobby, but then I would also say, if it helps the mind in other ways, row away.<br /><br />As your mom, it's hard to read any mention of your expecting me to go on if the unthinkable happens. That's because it's unthinkable.<br /><br />But<br />we all go on. There is simply nothing else to do.<br /><br />And you will too. I do think there will be a new day when cancer is not at every door that opens for you, elevator or not. But apparently it will be a day in the future.<br /><br />I remember Dr. Baum, was it? who told you that everyone who hears that awful news wants it to be a year later. A year later it will be. And then two and then three. And then many.<br /><br />Yeah, no one knows what will happen. But I'm going to go with the best case scenario. You're assuming it for Lenny and Augie, and, being in much the same place as you in that mom way, I can do nothing else.<br /><br />But the beauty of your words - and of Gabe's this morning - continues to console me. You may be writing this blog to get out your feelings, but like I've said all along, without it, I would be lost.<br /><br />Love,<br />MomMomhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05327701924465360560noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7125354934408472049.post-22269022577729341102011-01-27T23:25:39.115-06:002011-01-27T23:25:39.115-06:00It's not fair having to comment on your blog w...It's not fair having to comment on your blog when you have such an artful turn of phase... I always feel at a loss for words and think it seems silly to comment when I can just tell you in person. Anyway, sometimes the thoughts ought to be memorialized, so here's some for you to reread over and over. <br /><br />First I've got to make one edit; replace "my hair doesn't look that bad" with "my hair is looking pretty cute." <br /><br />We really need to talk about this business where you say everyone will be OK except you if the unthinkable happens. I know it's your life and all, but you are a huge part of my life, have been for going on 8 years. It feels trite to say it, but should I outlive you, a part of me dies with you and I will never heal completely. I shouldn't have to say this to you, the one who knows all about the lingering sorrows of old injuries a lifetime ago! And a part of you/us will live on in our children whenever our lives should end. <br /><br />Someone asked me today how you were doing, and I said, "Katy's doing really well under the circumstances." This clever person retorted, "Yeah, well, they say that about Gabrielle Giffords too... but she was doing a lot better last month." Later in the day I voiced to another friend my frustration at the pressure of always feeling like we have to make the best of every moment together because who knows how much longer we'll have any kind of moment together. Occasional depression's more than understandable after what you've gone through... but since I'm so good at worrying about the end of the world maybe you should let me be the one to worry that your (insert the current ache of the moment) is a metastasized time bomb counting down your quality of life moments. Because I KNOW when your wrist starts to hurt where that ganglion was - you'll be convinced it's cancer. <br /><br />You seem "fine" on the outside according to the doctors. They can't see what's inside your head, the injury and scar tissue in your mind stretched taut awaiting an ill word that "cancer's back." I shivered when I read the line about waiting for the elevators - I'm just envisioning the light flashing, the ding, and as the door opens some scabrous personification of cancer looks up to greet you. <br /><br />The extended motif is that your blog has become quite the work - as we know, over 200 pages and probably a good 180 even if you take out the pictures. The same friend I was complaining to earlier today confessed that "it's a serious commitment to read; it would make for an interesting book, but it wouldn't be for everyone." My response - "the final chapters aren't yet written."<br /><br />Reading today's post, though, love, it definitely feels like you're winding down a bit and preparing for the happy ending. It's yours to write after the last 8 months... thank you in the meanwhile for recording and sharing your turn of phrase, horrible experiences, deepest fears, and each enduring victory on the long road to remission here where we can all remember what it was like. Recurrence is unthinkable yet survivable... I desperately hope that you get the straight up happy ending on this first go around and not some horror movie cliché. <br /><br />In the meanwhile, as we await whatever the end of Katy's tale may be, just cherish the good moments some of the time, be human about things the way everyone else is, and let me sweat it out worrying about the what scary suffering waits on the other side of every future test result in your proverbial Death Valley, so that you can ride off into your Hawaiian sunset and wake into a new post-cancer life full of promise and whole future ahead of you to win.gabesterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12668071288755419304noreply@blogger.com