...Lace Up Your Gloves...

Well, I've apparently been spending too much time as a "nice lady" (although there might be some speculation there) and less time as a patient-type-person and consequently, haven't had much to say. I think, in this case, not much is a good thing. Very good. Next, on to the eye surgery...

Before that, we're headed back east tomorrow for a few days. It's the first time in four years that I'll be seeing some of my best friends that I've known for 25+ years. I was thinking, as we were walking this morning, when the last time I was back there at all, and realized that it was over five years ago. Man, how things were different. I stumbled upon some journal entries I had written back in 2003 and 2004 and I was amazed, yet not at all, at how some of them reflected how miserable I was at times. They spoke of my feeling as if I was starting to come out of the fog and break out of the shell I had bound myself in. They spoke of feeling invisible and hating the invisible-ness while wanting to disappear even more at times. They spoke of inadequacy and lack of self-worth yet an underlying knowledge that there simply HAD to be more out there. The only things I spoke of that made me happy were running, and reading, and having time alone with the pups. It was a time of change - of changing jobs, of finding myself, of re-discovering my soul and of coming out of the gray, dead zone I was mired in, and sinking. It's ironic though, that I haven't seen these friends since this process began, in earnest. I know they have shared with me over the phone the transformations they have seen take place in my personality and my outlook on life, but nobody has seen me in person. I don't look that much difference on the outside, save for the ridiculous hairdo and the smattering of eyelashes, but I have a feeling the physical changes are more apparent in my aura and demeanor in general. We'll see.

Tomorrow at this time we'll be on the plane, and getting ready for a couple of whirlwind days of friends and family and catching up and adjusting followed by a couple of days in the City to relax and enjoy and explore. And see the Red Legs beat the Yankees in the final season at Yankee Stadium. I wasn't entirely looking forward to this trip for a while, but the closer it gets, the more I find myself looking forward to it for many reasons. I think, anymore, I look forward to all the trips that we have taken or are going to take that I feel the way I do now - healthy and alive and strong and on a good day, even kind of cute. What a stark contrast to last Christmas in the Canyon, or flu-ish in San Francisco. I have to make sure not to get in that over-excited "I have to do everything RIGHTNOW' mode though. Although, I did get discouraged for a fleeting moment the other day trying to be realistic and realizing that many of the trips I want to take and the places I want to see may never be reality. Unless we make them so. That's neither here nor there, though.

It's been a whirlwind couple of weeks. An absolutely amazing golf tournament in which we raised over $11,000 for our team's 3-Day fundraising. We worked our asses off and inspired and impressed and amazed. We, together, manage to show the world that cancer isn't all gloom and doom, but instead a world filled with hope, friends, and love.

How about that.

Going back to the thoughts I had earlier about my journey to get to where I am now, every now and then I find myself struck by the thought that I know I am so fortunate to have had the sense to have chosen the path I did, after a while. This past weekend marked 12 years that I've been here in Phoenix. TWELVE years. I think that's longer than I've ever lived anywhere in my life. Amidst all the things that I have no recollection of between then and now, I remember so clearly arriving in Phoenix. Which was actually arriving in Vegas for the Midnight Sevens tournament, then driving to Phoenix the following day. It was hot. So bloody hot. I remember walking around a couple of days later, not knowing what the hell I was doing in this place that looked as if it was made of kitty litter and hating it, yet not ready to go back from whence I came. I stayed. I learned. I made a lot of bad decisions. I made some good ones. I found a career, strange as it may be. And I finally allowed my path to take me to the place where I know I am supposed to be.

Hi. We always knew I'd get here eventually, didn't we.

So, yesterday was Herceptin week. It was also my six-week catch-up with the oncologist. I signed in, I waited, I was (gah) put on the scale, and ushered back to the room for blood pressure and all that good stuff. Apparently all blood counts are normal, my resting heart rate was around 60, my temperature was normal, and my oxygenation was at 98%, and my blood pressure was 112/60. Cancer WHO?

Anyhow, in quite the expeditious manner, Dr. C pops his head in the room, shakes my hand, and asks how I am doing. "Fine, fine - I'm feeling great!" He asks me if I'm doing some hiking and I tell him yes, but nothing crazy lately - just locally. He nods and smiles and hands me the paper vest, then returns a few minutes later. He asks me a couple more random questions, and then says...

"Wow, you're not even like a patient anymore. Really, you're like this nice lady
that just happens to come visit me every few weeks..."

I laugh and tell him, "Ah, I wish that were true..."

Then off to the chemo suite. Which was weird-feeling yesterday, but I suppose I can't complain as long as it was one-stick and done.

Now.
How the hell do I deal with the juxtaposition of embracing the effect of cancer and at the same time, leaving it all behind?

Now, especially I think I need to remind myself that all things are possible because I have no idea how the hell to do that. Doesn't this crap come with a manual??