March Forth

I’ve been in a weird place, lately.

Somewhere where I don’t know where I am.

I’ve fallen off my anti-cancer wagons. And then beaten myself up, accordingly.

I’ve slipped into my pre-c self-loathing. And then beaten myself up, accordingly.

I’ve tried and succeeded. I’ve tried and failed.
I’ve floundered.

But we’re alive, healthy and happy. March break is just around the corner. Mark’s employment story looks bright.

And the canal is still open — and perfect. March fourth.

March forth.

To Zap or Not To Zap

Five days ’til radiation.

But I’m having second thoughts.

Living the aftermath of chemo — the swollen eyes, the mounting fatigue, the weakness, the aching, the blurriness, frustration and fog — I’m questioning the wisdom of this four-fold onslaught.

Mark’s concerned that turning down radiation and hormone therapy would make me low priority for any relapse treatment.

It’s a tough call.

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