She dreams in the dark

 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 shit despite my plans to enjoy myself without it, but what I do know is that I’ve been getting an infusion every two weeks and I’m The Grumpy Dwarf. It’s just enough time to start feeling better, for my nervous system to take a breath or two, and get into a little bit of a routine feeling well, and then…back to the hospital for another infusion. 

The worst days feel like rearranging chairs on the deck of the titanic, but the good days are so SO SO glorious. Making delicious meals and finding new places to feed us things that we don’t know how to make. Walks in the forest with Felix, his pool zoomies, and dedication to following the mower. Riding in the fields with Kitty and Frankie, then bringing them home to eat grass as high as their bellies. Protests, pride, pie. Weird ass tan lines, crunchy straw hats. Family and friends visiting, helping, touring, and touristing. Popsicles, bless them. Teaching, learning, aha-ing and awe-ing. 

I’m getting an infusion today, then my next will be in three weeks instead of two. My scans have been generally stable, which is an adult-sized miracle to begin with, but there are numerous small metastasis to my lungs now. I don’t do regular CTs (my choice because of radiation exposure) these mets may have been there for a couple of years. My next scans will tell us whether to be excited about them or not. I choose “look at how clearly and deeply I can siiiiigh about lung mets” thank you very much. 

After the long, dark, wet winter, the northwest spring suggests we might be invincible. It’s been a wonderful season to grow.