Closing the oncologist chapter.
This morning, I unexpectedly graduated from my oncologist’s practice. Time to update AboutMe:
Explorer. Wife. Mother. Yogini. Friend.
Stumbling and fumbling, but getting back up.
Surviving and Thriving.
And intending to continue doing so.
A rallying cry from the reluctant hero of Zorgamazoo:
Now, sometimes you lose and sometimes you win,
but my Pop always told me: You never give in!
And if he were here now, I know what he’d say:
Morty, my son, when you’re caught in a fray,
or your travels are tough and the going is rough,
or you’re up to your neck in the slippery stuff,
or say some old robots are on the attack,
then I tell you, my son: You start fighting back!.
Zorgamazoo, by Robert Paul Weston
When Mark lost his job last month, a friend grinned,
“When one door closes, another opens…
Sometimes, 17 others open.”
And it’s been true.
Possibilities have been popping up ever since.
Possible new paths for Mark.
And, surprisingly, hints of possible new paths for me.
Just hints, at this point. Vague invitations that may mean crossroads ahead.
But, several of them.
Open doors (even hints of open doors) are deliciously scary.
Well, it’s Groundhog Day… again… and that must mean I’m up here in the frozen north, tip-tapping my keyboard and listening, obliviously, to the intermittent vacation plans and reports of family and friends.
I’m typically teflon to travel tales. But this morning – they’re touching something.
Janice rebuilding in New Orleans. Natalie and Mike asanaing in the Costa Rican jungle. Betti, Kathi and countless co-workers counting down sleeps to the sunny south.
I popped back, this morning, to glimpse my 2010 wood-chuck-chucking self and realized: Hey, I’ve escaped Punxatawney. And I am the woman I wanted.
Now, I’ve got places to go and people to be.
A wise woman reminded me, everything starts with a thought.
This was my thought today. All day.
Adversity isn’t an obstacle that we need to get around in order to resume living our life.
It’s part of our life.
Our responsibility is not simply shielding those we care for from adversity
but preparing them to meet it well.
— Aimee Mullins
More about Aimee Mullins here, here and here.
Saturday, March 27, 2010 at 7:00 am, 5 monk caught fire. Later that day, some friends of the fire victims delivered a flyer: MISSING CAT FROM FIRE. Sixteen days later, they found the cat, hiding in the basement of the house. He had survived the 8-hour blaze and the house being demolished. As they say, “cats have nine lives.”
Today was Andrea’s second chemotherapy session. As always, she was a champ. I sometimes wonder how I would fair in the same situation.
Today, as I watched Andrea’s medicine bags drain I clued in to a celebratory atmosphere just opposite where we were sitting. It was a gathering of nurses making a happy fuss over someone as they were disconnecting all of the tubes; disconnecting for the last time as it turns out. Then there was a procession of nurses clapping and hooting as they followed the patient down the hallway of clinic for what will hopefully be their last visit there.
My focus for chemotherapy is to keep our heads down and power through. If we can keep Andrea healthy, she can remain on schedule and we can listen to the nurses cheer her on as we leave the chemo clinic for the last time on April 2.