Posted by: alainnneart | July 28, 2009

Blue morning…. blue morning wrapped in strands of fist and bone…

For the first time in a few days I have not thought about the biopsy.  Maybe the paranoia is fading a little.  Or maybe I am really busy.  However, I have been thinking a lot about Mary.

Her cancer started as breast cancer.  I don’t want to bother her with details of my own current problem with the lump, but I was some information from her about her struggles.  I guess it’s a “what if it is the big C?” sort of discussion I want to have.  I think I would be comfortable talking with her but I won’t call her to burden her with this.  After all, she is declining and currently planning her own funeral and memorial.  Bothering her with some that could really be nothing is not what I want to do right now.

I know enough about cancer to be able to tell you a few things.  Maybe that’s why I am only really worried about the lump late at night when my brain slows down and I can think about it.  Otherwise, I continue my day’s routine with SC and at work.  I try to pretend it’s all the same.

But you see, it’s not all the same.  I sit and talk with these incredible women in the chemo room and I see it from two points of reality.  The first is that these women are absolutely amazing to me.  They glow, and it’s not from the radiation they get, and they ooze confidence, hope and down right sexiness.  Most have now lost their hair, something I myself am very vain about, and they have these amazing scarves around their heads.  They are wrapped so artfully that it’s truly a wonder and a testament to the grace and fluidity of beauty they possess.

But I look at it also from the medical point of view.  For example, despite B’s beautiful outlook and wild eyes hope, I know that she is not going to make it.  I know that it’s spread too far and is in too many organs now.  I know that she will soon be referred to Hospice.  I know that in six months I will be, once again, heading to a funeral.

What scares me is this could be me.  We’ll all know more on Friday, but it could be me.  I never thought I could survive a lot of the things that I have.  I have had crash courses in heartbreak, violence, and death and in life.  I don’t think I am ready for another crash course now.

I went to the beach today to talk to my best friend.  Renee died about 7 years ago in a car crash.  I told her spirit all my fears.  My questions where answered with the sound of crashing waves.



  1. I honestly don’t know what to say; there’s nothing I can say, except that you’re in my thoughts, and I’m keeping you in my prayers.

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