2:45 a.m. One finger left-handed typing, so bear that in mind. Well...one third of the way through the gauntlet. Yesterday was the "Needle Localization" step, one of two procedures I must have prior to the third step, the"big surgery" April 5th.  It was very much like the biopsy, which I don't think I'll ever recall without an involuntary cringe. Nobody prepares you for how bad that shit is gonna HURT. Pain is visiting me and I'm exhausted so I won't say all of what I feel right now; it's pretty grim and there's no point in needlessly upsetting people. I will say this, thoug...

"It's so curious: one can resist tears and "behave" very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer...and everything collapses." ( Collette, 1873-1954 ) We are made of the stuff of stars, says Neil DeGrasse Tyson. Lately, I've been feeling like my star-stuff has lost some of its vibrancy. Some days I want to change my name to Virgo ZupraKlusta and run away to join an Artist's commune where I'll be the Chef and Medical Officer and I don't have cancer; where cancer isn't running my life. Thinkin' that's prolly not gonna happen. Sadly. When things get tough, I cook. I bake. I bake it out. I love the rocking rhythm, the assuaging to and fro of my Chef's Knife doing a measured River Dance on the wood cutting board.   Soooooooothing . ...

I made a pact with myself that 'd be painfully honest when I started this blog, no PC Filtering, so here goes. People struggle with catastrophes . I totally get that. When something horrible happens, so many just don't know what to say but want to say something . They mean to comfort, to show that they care about you, your situation.   Some people donate to charities to offset a feeling of despair when faced with a catastrophe; it gives them the uplifting sense of helping.  Some people come to your door with casseroles or bouquets. Some folks send pretty cards with hearts and flowers to tug a smile out of you and let you know you're cared for. Those all work; those are all powerful little blessings to the recipients of them. Maybe they're BIG blessings, depending on how your day is going.    God please richly bless every single one of those folks who endeavor to lighten the load for even                   ...

3:22 a.m. Sleep refuses to stay the night. There's a soft pinkish silver ring halo-ing around the moon...another big storm with lots of precipitation is coming. The moon never lies. I remember the moon portents from my sailing days. I wish I was on my boat right now. I slept better there than any place else in my life; true peace. Another night of sleeping in fits, if it can be called sleep, tormented by wakefulness and worry; endless knotty worry with sharp thorns that prick my consciousness. I have such a strong urge to do nothing: no surgery, no chemo, no radiation. Just live my life 100 mph until there's no more life to live. The Warrior Way. That would upset the people I love, though; that would hurt them . Isn't it the greatest love of all to suffer hurt for those we love?  To spare them?           Is it also the Warrior Way to submit oneself to pain? To uncertainty, doubt, agony, loss?           ...

Had my appt with No 2 Surgeon last evening. Not that he's secondary in anything mind you, just he's literally the No 2 surgeon who'll be working on me at the same time as my primary breast cancer surgeon.  He's responsible for my reconstruction, will be re-building the tay-tahs for me. I was all like, Nurse-y-modern and cool with the office visit, but I must admit when he came in the room & brought a med student with him my stomach churned, hard. I gulped like some wacky cartoon character in a fix, reflexively pulling my flimsy paper gown around me. The student caught it and so did the surgeon and they both froze, the student holding the door open to leave if I was throwing him out.      I thought about how many times I was a student over my career, how priceless those learning opportunities were to me & how I valued them. I humbly thanked each patient for allowing my participation in their care & grasped how that experience would stand me in good s...

Just wanted to share a little smile with you.....after Breast Cancer Surgery and Lymph Node removal, women get a condition called Lymphedema in the affected arm, the arm on the side of the surgery or both arms in the case of double mastectomies. The arm and hand/fingers swell because there's no longer any lymphatic system to drain that limb. It's a chronic condition and at this point has no cure. However, some clever people came up with decorative "Sleeves" & gloves that breast cancer patients can wear which compress their arm & hand and diminish that Lymphedema. Because they're quite decorative they tend to attract attention & curious people will ask what you're wearing and why. The folks who make this clever little bit of business, "LympheDivas" :) developed a list of ready answers for the insatiably curious who ask why you're wearing that decorative sleeve. This list of snappy responses is from their web page.          You...

So, one of the first things Cancer takes from you is Peace. *POOF*, that's gone when you hear the words "You have cancer".                          The second thing that bastard Cancer takes from you is Time. I'm feeling the ticking of the second hand echoing in my bloodstream these days like an Edgar Allen Poe tale. Tests, appointments, forms to fill out...endless, brain-frying-minutiae forms. I should be sitting down by the creek with the dogs or laughing with my kids and grandkids, but--- forms, appointments and tests and phone calls eat up every day. Another day I don't get to appreciate my life as it now is, as it will certainly not be again after I have surgery and treatment, possibly for a very long time, if not for the rest of my life span. The third thing Cancer robs from you is Control ( aka Security). As in, I HAVE NO FUCKING CONTROL OF ANYTHING ANY MORE.  ( Sorry for the swears, but not really) ...

  In the market a couple days ago, I spied a Lobster Roll sammitch in the cold-case. Given the price, that's an item I'd NEVER buy ready-made, doesn't fit my living-on-the-cheap lifestyle. But I thought, "I should allow myself to eat a Lobster Sandwich." Totally.  A topline luxury I'd never otherwise think of, but one I gifted myself with. It felt wicked-good to have such a decadent treat; it tasted gloriously salty-sea & tender-sweet all at once. Lots of happy munching. I gave myself permission to buy it, spent a couple more bucks than I normally would but it was delish and I enjoyed it supremely.  I think one needs to allow for treats like that occasionally when you're going through scary stuff. I'm not about to lose my mind and start ordering Foie Gras (no matter how much I love it) or anything-- but once in a while?----Yes, absolutely Lobster Sandwiches.      I will allow for the possibility of Lobster Sammitches. I'd forgotten how ...

So, it was a week after the biopsy and I was feeling like being more mobile, had trouble lifting/raising my right arm there for several days but nothing I couldn't deal with. I finally couldn't put off going to the market any longer, so off I trundled to the store. I found all the items on my list and went to the register to get in line for checkout. The lines were jammed, lots of afternoon shoppers. ( no matter what time of day I go, this always seems to be the case). In front of me were two women, each had a cart heavy-loaded with groceries. One woman, a brunette, was already in line standing patiently waiting; the other, a blonde, came hurriedly at the brunette and pushed her cart, saying " I saw this spot first , you get OUT of my way!!". I was instantly alarmed, panicky-felt I should jump in and keep them from going at each other.  I was all ready to yell "DON'T FIGHT! I HAVE CANCER!!!", then the two women started laughing, and I realized with ...