Welcome!

My last short fiction instructor told us not to write about cancer. "It's been done," she said. Well, the hell with that. I learned in the last three weeks that I have stage III breast cancer. Writing, painting, and assorted other arts are how I process stuff, in addition, of course, to long conversations with friends. These conversations have begun in earnest these recent days, but I realized my Facebook page in particular was in danger of becoming a medical-update site. I do not want that. My life is still going to be about more than cancer, as much as that may not seem possible right now. Also, I don't want to alienate friends who are not ready to walk this particular valley with me at this time. For example, one elderly friend who called to cheer me up this week can't even handle the "c-word," and there is no way she will be up for any truly frank discussion of what's about to happen here. So she is advised to keep in touch with me via Facebook. People who are comfortable with the c-word, honest discussion and occasional cursing are welcome to join me here.

Thursday, March 31, 2011

High Water Mark

Today's blog comes from the friendly confines of Dr. Frederick Smith's chemotherapy parlour in Friendship Heights, MD.  If I counted right, I am having at least 7 different things pumped into me right now, and so far, so good. Had an echocardiogram this morning and my heart looks great.  That's good news because it means we can do badass doses of even this one really nasty drug. I am also on serious amounts of steroids that would make Mark McGuire blush, so nobody had better cross me right now.

However, please forgive lots of typos because my left hand has got a big IV thing stuck in it.  I can feel all of everyone's prayers.  Thank you!

It feels great to actually be DOING something about this stupid cancer.  The tumors have grown and were starting to be painful.  But last night, my daughter Julia, who is 13, gave me a great perspective.  This is, we hope, cancer's high water mark. At Gettysburg, you can see the line where the Confederate army got this far and no more. That's where we are now, we hope.  "You start getting better tomorrow," Julia said, and that is the way to look at it.
Posted by at

2 comments:

  1. BrookeMarch 31, 2011 at 11:33 AM

    Go Julia, great perspective!
    Thinking of you Captain Badass, glad your heart looks good! But we all knew you had a big heart.

    ReplyDelete
  2. UnknownMarch 31, 2011 at 11:33 AM

    Fair play to all of you, and especially to your bravery at blogging this ordeal or rather life perspective changing journey. I somehow think we will all benifit from your experiances and as difficult as it might be, I am glad that those of us far from you are now able to follow your progress.
    Heres to better "getting better days"

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)