My cancer is in remission. This is joyous news. I am thankful. And yet, this is a new path for me to learn to walk along. I have not yet fully discovered the way of  rejoicing while at the same time living with the awareness that my future relationship with cancer is unknown. In actuality, this all feels rather more like funambulism than like walking along a path. Aware that remission can be forever or short-lived, it feels precarious. I am looking for my balance pole. 

My soul seeks celebration,
Wondrous bright decoration.
 
Bring holly and ivy, and garlands unfurled.
And sing Baroque carols; lighten my world.
But no! How their beauty does wring my heart sore.
I weep and cry out. I cannot take more.
Yet Rudolph and Santa, leave me empty and hollow.
So play on Baroque carols and let the tears follow!
 
So play on symphonies de Noels,
O Jesu mi Dulcissime,
In Nativitatum Domini Canticum,
And Harmonia Caelestis.
Prepare ye the way for the
 Jubilate! Alleluia! and Gloria!

​by Elizabeth Crispina Johnson
 

 My priest and I comparing heads!  Reflecting the light! 

On June 11th (after 3 surgeries), I began my radiation/chemo treatment. My family and I tried to look ahead to the end of October when it was expected that I would have my last treatment. I remember sitting beside Brad after the doctor had outlined the plan, and experiencing a pendulum swing of thoughts and emotions. "Lord have mercy." 
"How will this ever work?"
"We've gone through a lot over 42 years. We can do this."
"This is not like anything else we have been through. Can we do this?"

Here we are five months later having completed this phase of the "I have cancer" experience. Maybe I am too tired, but for whatever reason I do not feel a sense of accomplishment as one often does after having reached a goal. Maybe in a few weeks when this last round of chemo has finished wreaking havoc with my body I will experience a small "ta-dum" type of emotion. Maybe not. Guess it is immaterial. 

​The autumn leaves are beautiful today. 
​

Despite his own weariness and battle scars of the last seven months, yet again I hear my husband cleaning the kitchen and making dinner accompanied by his singing and humming snitches and snatches of various songs with a bit of whistling woven throughout. I am humbled and most blessed.  (I will not give up my fight against my own weakness.) 

February 14 (happy Valentine's Day):  Phone call from doctor "Time to see specialist for exploratory"
March 7 : Pre-op appointment
March 22: first surgery
March 29: My world shifted; Diagnosis Day
April 18: second surgery
Month of May: countless appointments with oncology radiologist, radiology technicians, oncologists,     
                          phlebotomists, etc.
June 1st: 3rd surgery (port insertion) 
June 11: Weekly chemo for 5 weeks begins
                Weekly blood draws begins
               Daily radiation for five weeks begins (Monday - Friday)
July 23 - August 23rd: Recovery month attempting to prepare for more chemo therapy
August 23: First of four chemo doses
September 13: Second of four chemo doses
October 4: tentative third of four chemo doses
October 28: tentative final chemo dose
Month of November: await body scan on November 25 (tentative)  to determine how efficacious the eight months of treatment has been (or not) 
​
Once again, I am reduced to a single prayer: Lord have mercy.
 
​

True confessions. I have had a low tolerance level for schmaltz. In the past, it has taken very little sentimentality for me to label something as schmaltzy and either dismiss it or even upon occasion have such an aversion to it that I would feel like yelling, " Just shut up!" at the song or movie or feel-good poster touting messages of maudlin, mushy encouragement i.e. Have a nice day! or Hang in there! or Without the rain, there would be no rainbow. 

Yesterday afternoon while organizing a cupboard (therapy) i was listening to a Spotify-created "made for you" playlist (not one I had personally made).  Imagine my confusion when I heard what is perhaps the slushiest song of all time begin playing! Chosen for me? I think not!. But being too pre-occupied to hit the skip button, I let it roll on.  

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark.
At the end of a storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark.
Walk on through the wind.
Walk on through the rain,
Though your dreams be tossed and blown.
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone!
You'll never walk alone.
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone!
You'll never walk alone.

What the heck? What was happening? Instead of gagging or rolling my eyes, I started to cry. 

​Cancer does weird things to one.

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