Sometimes blog posts are eloquent and wordy and deep.  Other times, the writer has to leave for surgery in three hours and is too tired to be eloquent, or wordy, or deep. But sometimes, the message is such that it doesn’t need eloquence. At my PET scan review last week, Dr. Wonderful ordered follow-up MRIs of my spine and my liver; I had the MRI’s on...

So, I have this whole heart-may-be-damaged-from-chemotherapy-and-it-may-or-may-not-be-reversible thing going on. Kind of a big deal. I try not to worry.  Instead, I pray.  I’ve done a lot of praying.  At this point, I’m still more worried about the cancer than the heart.  You know, I worry about things in order.  And then I remember not to worry, and to...

“…good,”  These were Dr. Wonderful’s first words as he sat with Brad and I today in the consult room. It may not sound like high praise, but Dr. Wonderful doesn’t throw around positive adjectives unless he means them.  “Good” from Dr. Wonderful is worthy of a fist pump and a high five.  The treatment has been effective...

We’re back from vacation. And I have a PET scan tomorrow.  (A PET scan is a whole-body scan that detects cancer.) And that’s what you call a jarring jump back to reality.  I’m switching gears.  And yet, not really.  I love my life on vacation, but I also love my everyday regular life.  Cancer appointments have become part of my regular life, and I...

When I wake up tomorrow morning (Wednesday), it will be my last chemo day.  Sixteen of sixteen. It’s bittersweet.  I’m sad to be leaving the cancer-killing treatment, the comfortable ease I have with my chemo routine, and the friends I have made in what has become “my” chemo room.  I’m happy to say good-bye to the toxins and their side...