Real Cancer

When they did testing on my tumor to see how likely it was to return, the answer came back as low - I have a low chance of recurrence.  Which is why I didn't have to have chemo; for me the likelihood of the cancer returning was balanced by the likelihood of damage from the chemo.  So, I've 'just' had hormone therapy as treatment.

At some point, I was telling someone all this, and they said, 'So, you didn't have real cancer then.'


say what???  whatever.

I'm sorry to say Kate won't have trouble quibbling with the distinction.   She definitely has real cancer.  Her tumor test came back in the intermediate range, and since she is so young, they highly recommended she go through a three month round of chemo, just to make sure they catch any stray cells. 

I don't have the details of the treatment regimen they're recommending, but know it's a three drug cocktail and yes, it will make her sicker than a dog and all of her hair will fall out.  She'll start the treatment soon; within the next week or so.  And the extra delay in her ability to start that California job that's been waiting for her is likely to turn this bump in the road into a real detour.  I'm not sure how long they'll be able to wait.

Part of me is railing at the fates.  again.  It couldn't have waited six months!  By then, she'd have been done with school and settled into her new job for a bit and surely they'd have worked with her.  But the other part of me thinks the timing - if there's ever a good time for cancer - worked just fine.  She has a wonderful support system where she is; family and friends to help, doctors she trusts.  Good insurance.  It could have been awfully lonely there in CA, just settling in only to be hit by the cancer truck.

So, once again, I find myself working on the trust thing.  To trust in her doctors to prescribe the correct treatment.  To trust her support system in Minnesota, since I can't drop everything to just go up there and be there with her for this whole ordeal.  (trusting her support system is one of the easy ones; they're great people.)  To trust that when one door closes, another opens - that should her current promised job fall through because of this stinkin' disease, another will come and the road will circle back around to a place where she is happy and healthy once again.

** sigh **
cancer sucks.

Shower Blues

You know, sometimes, I don't do things right the first time.

I'd actually done a pretty darn good job on the shower floor.  Except for one teensy tiny detail.  When I poured a bucket of water in the basin to test the drainage. there were a couple of little pools of water; low spots in the floor.

Not a big fan of mold and slime, I knew I'd have to take it back out.  I HATE taking stuff back out. So, I pouted for a bit, then, a couple of days later I tried the bucket-o'-water test again.  Can you believe it didn't magically fix itself?

I managed to procrastinate for another couple of weeks, but then managed to convince myself I'd be a lot happier trying to fix it before the shower door was installed.

So, yesterday morning I bit the bullet, got out the tile-digger-out tools and set to work.  I dug out grout, managed to slip a pry bar under the edge of the leading tile, and poof!  An hour later, I was done; the tiles reset and ready for action.  (If I did it wrong again, I won't be admitting it in this space, I can tell you that...)

All that procrastination, wasted on a 60 minute task.  I hate it when I do that.

Kate update:  we are waiting, still, for some test results that will let us know if she needs to do chemo.  The timing of all other treatment depends on these results, and so we wait.   again.  There are times the wheels of medicine grind aggravatingly slowly.  **sigh**

Goodbye, Bessie!

Goodbye...

I knew when I got home last fall that it was time; probably past time.  My camper van, who I began to call Bessie sometime back, deserved more than to be parked 11 months out of the year.  She wanted to be on the road, seeing new places.

So, somewhat reluctantly, I created a CraigsList ad in January, just to see what would turn up.

Within a day, the emails started trickling in.  Some were serious lookers, others were hoping I was desperate to sell since I'd listed it in mid-winter (Sorry, Charlie!).

It was just a few weeks before I got a message from someone serious about purchasing her.  We traded emails back and forth.  I checked him out on Google; he did the same with me to establish our bona fides.  Still, when they wanted to come look at her, I did the prudent thing and set up a meeting at a public place.

Then came the day we were to meet.  I drove up to where the van is parked, got there an hour early, only to find it still cushioned by better than a foot of snow.  I started shoveling, and then decided there comes a time to trust.  Besides, if I pulled her out of her spot, she wasn't going back in.  parking on the street is NOT an option up there.  So, I called them en-route and had them meet me at the house.  If they didn't like her, I wasn't going to move her.

They got there just as I was finishing the shoveling.  (a good task on a warm winter afternoon.)  They started looking at the exterior.  I must say, I was quite the salesperson.  I started with the standard spiel about the excellent shape she is in (which is true), but somewhere in there, my ambivalence got the better of me. "There's a ding here where she got bit by a curb.  This back bumper goes in just a bit; someone did that before I got her.  I think the back marine battery might be going bad.  Did you notice here, where the paint is coming off a bit?"

He ignored me, asked me to start the engine, which hadn't been started in a month.  I crossed my fingers, turned the key - and the engine roared to life just as it's done every time I got in.  She passed the initial inspection, so we took her for a drive.  She passed that inspection, so we went inside, did the necessary dickering over price, money and title traded hands.

She's gone to a good home.  Mike and Kathy have more free time than I do; they will take her on the road way more than I can.  (I wouldn't be surprised to find they've already taken her out for a week.  somewhere south, if I were them...)  He knows cars; will take good care of her mechanical needs.  In the short time we talked, the care between Mike and Kathy was clear - they will fill her with their laughter and the joy they bring to life.

Bittersweet, but it was time.

Someday, Good willing, I will be on the road again.  Until then, I have a storehouse of wonderful memories to delve into whenever I need a smile.  Can't ask for more than that.