I am So There



We're booked! On the last weekend in October, Curtis and I will be sippin Chablis and watchin a movie from this whirlpool tub. You can see some more photos of the place, and read a detailed description, in his blog. Check it out.

We've never stayed in a place this luxurious before. It's all about makin memories...

Bad News Today

The results of my most recent ct-scan revealed the growth of three new tumors in my abdomen, one on my pancreas. All treatment has been terminated; the doctors' mandate from this point onward is to keep me comfortable. My oncologist, desperate to offer me some relief, is going to consult with my radiologist to see if he can do anything to take down the swelling in my temporal region, as well as thoracic surgeons to drain my lung and fill it with talcum to stop the effusion. In the meantime, he promises to let me know if any new drug trials become available to me. There may be radiation of the abdomenal areas down the road for pain-control purposes.

Curtis and I are more grateful than ever for the wonderful and memorable summer we spent together, and we have decided to move up our plans for a springtime getaway to this fall.

I will not give up. I. Will. Not.

Being Remembered....It Feels Just Plain Good



I never went into teaching to be "memorable"; I've always been far too grounded (some might say right up to my knees) to think that my students or my colleagues would rhapsodize about me years later. I simply did my very best, cared, and tried to contribute. So it came as a surprise and a delight to find that, more than four years after I transferred to a different school, a large group of the wonderful people with whom I once worked, still cared enough to think of me.

There were several teachers of whom I became particularly fond. One of them is Maria. We worked together in the same department, carpooled and became good friends. Early this afternoon, Maria phoned to say that "a little birdie" told her it was my birthday, and would I be home after school hours; she wanted to come see me. Well, I went into CancerCare this morning for bloodwork, but generally my dance card is pretty empty, so of course I said come on over. Maria arrived with another short woman, whom I could not identify for the huge flower arrangement she held in front of her. It was another dearheart, Denise, with whom I used to enjoy golfing; we even went to Acapulco together one Spring Break. It was so emotional to see my good friends and to chit chat and laugh with them, just like in the old days. The flower arrangement, the gorgeous one pictured above, was accompanied by a greeting card adorned with personal greetings and well wishes from my former colleagues.

How lucky am I?

Gonna Bake Myself a Cake



Today I turn 51 years old. I'm very happy about that; it was a little over 10 months ago that I was given a prognosis of 10 to 24 months and I'm holding strong.

Every day is a gift; another year is a blessing. I wish you all good health and good cheer. Please have a tall cold glass of your favourite beverage and celebrate life with me.

Happy birthday to me.

The Music of the Night



As the youngest in my family, I never had to share sleeping accommodations growing up. So, except for the occasional slumber party, I wasn't subjected to the nocturnal vocalizations of another sleeper. Used to be that a dripping tap at the other end of the house, or a chirruping cricket would keep me awake all night. That has changed….

I married. My husband is the Sultan of Snore. I mean, the man can open and close drawers. The entire bed vibrates. And the variety! It's not as if he settles into a steady rhythm of inhalations and exhalations – oh no! His snoring is a cornucopia of cacophony, ranging from loud snorts to an Evinrude-type gurgling. At times he moans with each exhale; evidently, sleeping is hard work.

I've missed a lot of television audio due to the snoring drowning it out. The irony is, that when I increase the volume, my husband awakens.

I wonder sometimes that he doesn't wake himself. All I have to do is clear my throat and he's asking me if I'm alright, yet he seems deaf to his own ear-shattering emissions.

I also acquired a dog. One with an apparently deviated septum. With him on the floor to my right, and Mister Decibel in bed to my left, I am the meat in a snore sandwich.

Solutions? "Accidentally" driving an elbow into his (the husband's, not the dog's) ribs accomplishes little except a brief interruption in the snoring, and sometimes elicits an alarmingly loud gasp. Whether he sleeps on his back, stomach or side, makes no difference. And I haven't been able to pin him down long enough to force him to wear one of those nose strips.

And we're talking about a man who can go from conversation to a dead sleep in .3 seconds, so it's not as if any cessation in snoring lasts for an appreciable length of time…not long enough for me to fall asleep myself, anyway.

I used to try to solve the problem by retiring before he did, but that's hard to do, since he goes to bed early (and gets up for a couple of hours during the night). Earplugs tended to give me headaches. When I moved to the spare bedroom out of exhaustion, my husband (and the dog) took it personally. Fortunately, the need for sleep ultimately prevailed, and I have now acquired the ability to sleep through "Thus Spake Zarathustra" played at two thousand decibels. My husband marvels at my tendency to slumber peacefully through violent thunderstorms. Hey, it's a matter of survival.

I've been told that I occasionally make snoring sounds myself. All lies, of course; although even if I did, I'm sure they would be very lady-like and sweet. I sometimes laugh in my sleep and that never fails to rouse me.

Thankfully, now, most nights I lie in a puddle of my own drool, blissfully oblivious to the musical serenade being played out around me.

Nothing Exciting



I haven't anything really new to report, beyond all that Curtis has told you on his blog, but I thought I'd just touch base.

The decreased dosage of interferon has resulted in me feeling less fatigued, but although my disease is stable (hooray!), my lung is plaguing me a bit these days, causing coughing and a shortness of breath. Despite that, I've been able to chip away at the housecleaning a bit, which makes me feel better about things.

I am enjoying my new Dell (duuuuuuuuuude), and once the Big Brother feeds are over on the 20th, I hope to get back to some story-writing (if I can empty my head of anything worthy).

We've had a wonderful summer of travel and getaways and the September weather, often capricious, has been most pleasant. Hoping all readers who happen by are doing well.

Back to School Time



Today I should have been starting classes for another school year. It's the second time in 26 years that I won't be there performing opening day duties, the previous occasion being in 2001 when I was recovering from surgery. That year I returned to teaching on Nov. 12. It's weird to know that I won't ever be back, that someone else will take over "my" classroom, my teaching load, my files, and those who should have been my students. But it's hard to feel justified in complaining, given all the suffering in Katrina's wake. After all, I have a roof over my head, electricity, all the creature comforts.

Funny how God puts things into perspective for you. On September 11 of 2001, as I lay in bed recovering from surgery that had removed my cancerous left kidney, I flipped on the TV just in time to see the second plane crash into the Twin Towers, live. The carnage that I witnessed made me feel very fortunate to be resting in my comfortable bed, far from the horrors that flashed before my eyes.

The real turning point for me was in early January of 1994, when my ex and I were t-boned on the highway, causing us to roll four times in my little Ford Escort and crash land upside down. Our injuries were substantial, but a far cry from what they might have been. I missed six weeks of teaching, but my self-pity was short-lived as I watched the trial of the Menendez brothers, who had slaughtered their own parents for profit in cold blood.

All of this tragedy and loss have been for me, images on a screen, far removed from what can only be described as relative luxury. Yes, I have had and continue to have my own challenges; but how lucky am I to be comfortable and able to enjoy carefree getaways with the man I love?

So I'm a little sad today....But I'm a lot grateful.