A long weekend.   A long afternoon in my garden.  A quick visit from M, my life long friend.  We ate wonderful food at the Post Office Cafe and sat by the fire pit at twilight.  After she left, I attended a Memorial Day celebration at our old town hall and local cemetary.  I stood there listening to the bagpipes, the boy and girl scouts reading the names of our town’s fallen soldiers.  I remembered the eulogy that we wrote for Pop and started thinking about the things we share after someone goes out.  I think of Mom, all that she is to all of us, and just can’t seem to believe that she totally gets how much she has given us.  I thought about how important it is to me to tell people, somehow, that they enhance my life.  I thought about how I would like to be remembered.  Then I thought that was presumptuous. 

M and I were at the greenhouse yesterday.  Something really funny happened and we laughed so hard we could hardly control our bladders.  You know how that happens.  You laugh until you can’t breathe, your eyes tear and every time you think of what happens, regardless of where you are, the fit starts again.  Every time we tried to tell the story we just started cracking up.  My eyes are tearing just writing about it.  It’s sort of like trying to tell a dream that you might have thought was really funny.  B tells me I laugh in my sleep, and never seems to get it when I try to explain what was going on in dreamland.  M and I tried to tell the story when we got home, but the audience shook his head and looked at us like we had too much iced tea or something. (It wasn’t even Long Island iced tea that we were drinking…)  My point here is that remembering time with M, even though it was just a blink of time, fulls me with whatever laughter and love are made of.  

At the ceremony today I had the good fortune to see many people whose families have grown up with ours.  People touched my hair, commented on the texture and color, asked where the scarves had gone.  The treatment journey all complete and life on life’s terms, back into normal.  When I spoke with brother M today he said “considering everything, normal is excellent”. 

The radiated area is much cooler now.  No more breaking down skin.  A little rashy, but nothing like it was.  I have some appointments this week: a bone scan tomorrow to get a baseline to monitor as I continue to take Tamoxifen.  My annual exam Thursday, again baseline for monitoring endometrial tissue changes if there are any.  Mamogram later in the month.  I notice that I blog less and less about breast cancer and more and more about life now.  I notice that conversations now are about life as well.  It’s really nice to be back.

My friend was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, both breasts, double mastectomy is scheduled for tomorrow.  When I found out I called her immediately and insisted that she put my cell phone number where she could find it whenever she needed anything.  I visited her and brought her a few things that were shared with me, but most of all I brought my experience.  This is not a baton I want to pass to anyone.  You have all taught me how to support someone going through this.  That is the baton that I will take from you as I run next to my friend B.