Home from the infusion.  You know the feeling when seed catalogs start appearing in the mailbox?  Well here in Maine it is a sacred time…at least for me.  Today I got that feeling when I drew this panel.  Something is moving for me.  I and we are doing what it takes to enjoy and endure the winter cold, snow, quiet, dark, ice.  I feel the incubation and am taking care of our plants more than usual.  The cyclamen that I was given at my 20th anniversary at work is actually producing a whole bunch of new blooms.  (Usually those plants end up a frozen block on the top of the compost awaiting spring to put them out of their ugly misery.)  The only plant that is not happy at all is our Ficus.  She is shedding every leaf (could it be chemo covad??) and believe it or not, has new green sprouts here an there.  Mangy fox syndrome if I ever saw it.

I was really tired in spite of the fact that the infusion went quickly and smoothly.  So instead of going to a meeting at work and then a friend’s house for an enchilada lesson, I came home, met by phone and snooooooozed with the furry you know whozzzzz.  The friend said she’d be delivering the enchiladas and the lesson could come at another time.  At this point the fatigue is evident, definitely a cumulative thing.  I’m incredibly grateful that my night time sleep has returned to my usual which is total slumber.  Occasional dreams which are comforting, occasionally waking because a light is on in the living room illuminating the scene for teenage activity.  I’ve come up with a hydrating routine that seems to be good enough for the raisin body.

I’ve moved acupuncture to every other week as our insurance has changed and they don’t wanna play.  I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s visit.  My guts aren’t right.  Not nausea, not exactly constipation, but definitely not functioning the way it should be.  Don’t like that. Haven’t had any major celebrations of late, if you know what I mean.

The weekend was really fine.  I volunteered at the commissary at the ski mountain near our house on Saturday afternoon while the kids skied and boarded.  It is always a fun thing to do.  I was able to attend a wonderful 50th birthday party for a lovely friend after and we even stayed till almost midnight.  Wonderful to be around fun people we’ve known for a long time, and to listen to, play and sing some great songs as a family with friends.  Amazing.  Amazing for me even sans chemo to be up and alert that late.  On Sunday I mostly made up some work time that I missed last week, having left work early for snoozeland.

And today we awoke to a nice snow fall.  It’s just stopped, we may have gotten 4 or 5 inches, enough to clean things up and improve conditions for the activities we enjoy.

Every so often I still run into people who have not been privy to the information about my health.  I’ve probably mentioned an observation that as people age, their annual holiday greeting letters get longer and longer, and more and more about health issues.  I see how it became the main focus for Pop, and is becoming the focus for mom as body ages and activity slows. I take any opportunity to ask someone who’s been there about the things I am about to embark on.  You can bet that if you’ve had a colonoscopy that I may be calling for some hits from Heloise when I turn 50.

 But even if I didn’t want to mention it, my coiffe is hard to ignore.  I just happened to run into 3 such people this past week.  The general response is “let me do something to help…I didn’t get to all this time…what do you need?”  More love and support.  The genuine interest in what we’ve been through is touching.  While I love talking about other things, I want these people to know whatever they want/need to know to get caught up.  AND it is something that has woven itself into the tapestry that is our life.  SO the conversations were about both what we’ve been up to since we saw one another, and what we’ve been up to in relation to breast cancer.  Saying that I was diagnosed in the summer gave me a view down the long trail that we are on.  This is a view I don’t look at too often, since staying in the NOW is where I’m at these days.  I think that breast cancer touches us all.  I still see in the faces of people I’m talking to the old “if she can get it so can I”.  Women grieve breast cancer, men grieve breast cancer.  Everyone wants to save the Ta Tas, and so there is a load of compassion.

A lovely woman at work who cheers me on every day, who celebrates fantastic socks, and embodies G.O. energy told me that she has a new car.  I was appropriately excited I think.  Then she said that she was registering it and thought of me and got a breast cancer plate.  No whiplash.  We shared watery eyes, smiles and the knowing that G.O. energy was alive and well.

I think our family is doing ok with stuff.  I’m working much of the time, and when I do at home, I’m on the phone or my computer a lot.  I’m working afterall. My family thinks I love talking on the phone, which I really don’t, but I DO want to spend the time with callers or people I call in the name of being present and connected to the important stuff in my life.  I HAVE to use the phone for work, and sometimes do supervision or have meetings on the phone for HOURS AND HOURS.  Kids don’t like that.  Mom’s home, mom is home for me.  And because I cannot concentrate on my role in the meeting when A is standing before me with the most crucial social plans awaiting my approval, or just wanting a hug…sometimes I have to say “excuse me, your honor, I am taking a minute to hug my daughter…” in the middle of the meeting.  Thank the universe that my colleagues and boss understand what is important in life.

We don’t talk about treatments or cancer or how they’re doing with it all a lot.  That would be picking the scab if you know what I mean.  They know my schedule and say “good luck” or “I’ll be thinking of you today.” when they know I’m going in for an invasion.  They know to close the door and keep the volume down when the katz and I are in a pile on the bed.  And when we are doing something fun they take the time to say “I’m glad we are doing this.”

I got on a new horse in July 2009.  My boots are wearing in beautifully and are becoming a regular part of my life.  The horse is not unruly, just unpredictable.  The more I work on mindfulness and being awake, the freer I feel, and the more flexible I become to stretch in ways I did not think possible.