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Longevity.

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I’ve heard that every 7 years, each cell in your body has been replaced. The physical bits of you that were here 7 years ago aren’t here now. For the sake of cosmic romance, I’ll skip the asterisks and echoing chasms of a tidy little statement and indulge….   We’re approaching 7 years since my diagnosis.   I’ve said for the great majority of those years that if life could run parallel with cancer, I’d be incredibly happy and we could consider that victory.   The reality with sarcomas is they’re very rare, so to have a rare type of of a rare type of cancer has added an extra layer bushwhack health care that, while working acceptably and gratefully well, can feel a bit like chasing marathon finishes over and over. And over. As long as I keep going, I can keep going, but sometimes, the idea of sitting down in the shade for a minute and having a chocolate milk and a glop of peanut butter sounds nothing beneath heavenly. Choosing parallel success meant choosing management not ...
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She dreams in the dark

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  Solstice is approaching, farewell to spring, hello summer. The birds and the sun are awake at 4:30 in the morning, but nothing feels more indulgent than sleeping until our cat, PGW, announces the emptiness of her food bowl and upon the fullness of her chosen human bladder plunks her meaty little haunches. It’s irresistible. Good morning, spring.   *squish* We saw Come See Me In The Good Light at the Seattle International Film Festival. I’ve never laughed so hard only to be crying in the next scene, then laughing to tears in the next. The entirety of a sold out theater was there for a love story and everyone there fell collectively. If you have the chance to see it in a dark room with several hundred strangers, please, please do.   Since April, I’ve volunteered myself to a more intense chemo schedule with the hope that it will buy me a more flexible schedule this summer. I’m not sure if that’s against the rules or if cancer is going to prove to be a defiant little s...
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When the shoe doesn't fit

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At the hospital infusion room, there's a white board that is full edge to edge with thank yous, gratitudes, lifelaughloves, and one in particular that I hope never gets erased: "37 years since my original diagnosis. 24 years this year every 3 weeks. Thank you!" A glimmer of longevity in the land of incurable disease takes what up-close looks like a finish line and punts it so far out of sight that years recalibrate into decades. I think it's one of the greatest gifts any stranger has shared on a white board.  It's been 6 years since my diagnosis. Yesterday, we learned that the drugs that have been keeping my disease stable are starting to lose their magic. The growth is very, very small, but it's time to consider other options as this, after #27 infusions, is possibly a little white flag of surrender from the drugs that gifted us the last year and a half. I have some more tests this month to help us decide our next move. It's not at all uncommon with this ...
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Happy Anniversary, Chemo

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It wasn't until we got home from the hospital yesterday that I realized that it was my one year anniversary with chemo. Leannda asked me to find the picture from Day 1. Scrolling through my phone, I laughed when I looked at Leannda and she was wearing the same sweater, and I was wearing the same shirt on Day 1 that I wore to the Maggie Rogers concert on Tuesday night, chemo day 365.  As years have gone by, touch points have arrived throughout my cancer journey and Maggie's music has turned out to be one of them. (And maybe Leannda's sweater and my shirt?) The month before my surgery in February 2019, Heard It in a Past Life was released, and in that month, I played the hell out of it. To make the point, the CD(!) is still in my car that has a CD player(!) and it will forever live there. This lead me to an earlier album (The Echo, also absurdly masterful), where I found "Satellite" and played it over and over in the February snow, waiting for my surgery date. There...
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Make your own star stickers

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I feel increasingly lucky to have the paths between the feet of tall trees to go for walks. It's moving meditation. Heart-shaped things on these walks have become my breadcrumbs. I'll find them like an acknowledgment, a sly little wink, before they change shape as I pass and the heart transforms into just two leaves, just the bark of the tree, just a rock in the trail, just a slippery footprint. It’s a sweet little yes. Yes, this is exactly where you should be. Yes, I see you. Yes, you saw me. But if I look back at it, my perspective is different, and the heart isn’t there anymore. It’s only…forest. Just because it isn’t, doesn’t mean it wasn’t.   It’s one of my favorite things. I had new scans in June, so at my last chemo appointment, in a most unceremonious way, a new-to-me nurse practitioner reported that my scans were stable and bloodwork looked perfect. Not even a trophy, and even a certificate of participation.   Stable and shiny is so fucking hard fought.   I’d had...
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I gotta fix this

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 Oh dear.  Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. You know what looks really bad?? A BLOG about CANCER that HASN'T BEEN UPDATED IN 6 MONTHS !!! Hands up if you thought mine bucket hath been klonked! I've been writing quite a bit and sometimes even think it'll turn into an update for the BLOG about  CANCER  that  HASN'T BEEN UPDATED IN 6 MONTHS,  but then it becomes something more for myself than for public consumption and so here we are. Not great at the updates, but very much alive and thriving. Did I mention that chemo and I are going to do this little dance for- maybe -ever? Sometimes I want to know how long forever is, and sometimes I don't, so I'm still not sure how to answer the question when asked. "Indefinitely" pops out most often, while I squelch, "I guess as long as I want to keep waking up in the morning? *shrug*" Too dark? Ok, fine. Hi, do you need a walk? The very, very good news: I've finagled my way into a longer cycle between infusi...
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She's musing about trees again

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I'm so grateful to be going through treatment at this time of year.  The trees and I look the same.  Familiar, but different.  Shedding old seasons, quiet, hibernating, but very, very much surviving.  Except for darling sharkoma, who has been greedily slurping its chemo and then complaining why it feels dead inside.  Bottoms up, y'all!  Happy New Year! If you were to ask me if I'm superstitious, there would be a long pause before a 50:50 shot at answering yes or no.  (I'm also a libra, so tralala) Sometimes it's just a little thing that can make the difference in happiness, confidence, whatever.  Keeping things the same for the sake of familiarity is sometimes all ya got.  I hesitate sometimes to write an update because things change--and have changed SO many times--that I feel like I'm just telling you about the same rollercoaster ride that I keep taking turns on except maybe its painted a different color.  Alas, that's just the truth o...
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