I really am not a very good blogger.  If I were following this blog, I probably would have given up checking for new entries by now.  I feel some sense of responsibility to whomever is still hanging in there with me and us, and appreciate that very much.  Like my favorite “there must be a pony in here some place” story, I would think checking in to see no new entries time and time again is sort of like that.

We had the good fortune of a generous set of friends who enabled us to take a vacation of our dreams back to where B and I used to live.  Plane tickets, a car waiting at the airport for us to use, a beautiful home stocked with food, a family with so much love to share and a boat that allowed us to frolick with marine wildlife and fish to our hearts’ content.  I want to put pics of our vacation in here to show the beauty of our favorite place and to show a family moving on from a year of cancer treatments.  Part of the delay has been that one camera cord is MISSING, so I cannot get the pics from there to here at this moment.  There is ONE photo card that can fit the card reader, so I’ve plucked some favorite morsals for today.  I promise that I will look diligently under clothes in the teenage bedrooms for the cord so I can put some other favorites up in future entries.

This entry today is about the moving on part of a family’s life with breast cancer.  We don’t have breast cancer any more, at least that is what we believe and what the latest info tells us.  We are moving on.  It’s about freedom and family time.  We were in Alaska for what felt like a month, but was really only just over a week.   We flew into Seattle, then into Juneau and then took an 8 seater plane into our first playground; Haines.

There we visited a friend who is really into what I’d call Alaskan extreme sports.   Our friend S flies traction kites and takes them out at low tide, goes onto the ice, up mountains with skis, on the water with a wake board, and is able to take great leaps into the air 10 – 15 feet up it seems.

When I had the chance to ride shotgun in S ‘s truck as we chased the low tide, he said “You know P, a lot of people think I’m an adrenalyn junkie.  But for me it is about being no where else but in the moment…you of all people know what I mean, I know that.”  This had me thinking a lot about my individual experience this last year and my need for space at times, my struggle not to get caught up in whatever could be upsetting or negatively engaging.  When it was my turn to fly the kites, I appreciated the fact that S gave instruction, held the bar when we needed him to, ran beside us, and then left us with our own intuition and the wind.

E getting instruction from our pal S.

The picture below is of A flying the traction kite on her own at low tide.  It was an amazing experience for each of us to try out the trainer kite (11 square meters) and ultimately the 15, which you can see here is quite large.  The harness is just like the ones we wore rock climbing many moons ago.

Time in Haines was short, but we were fully present and smooshed as much as we could into the moments there.  It helped to shrink the kids and tuck them into our pockets for ease of travel.

We ferried back to Juneau and puddle jumped into Sitka for the bulk of our vacation.  Here we are out in the Pacific on a sunny day (a rarity in those parts).  This was before we threatened the fish population with our angling skills.

Seeing B so free and peaceful was one of the greatest gifts.  He wanted to be nowhere else but on the water it seemed.

We were delayed leaving by one day due to fog, no planes could land on the short runway.  We were either going to go to a real estate broker, or take care of a few dangling wishes on our to do list.  SO we went to the Raptor Center.  At one point we were all walking down a wooden pathway.  There were 7 of us.  A and B were arm in arm in the front, our friends A and M (mom and daughter) were next.  E and M (the two boys) took up the rear.  I was in the middle of these pairs and was very content with this set up.

I had one thought that some may think is morbid:  we all just find a way to get by when we lose someone.   I was at once both very much in the moment of my own journey and seeing my family surrounded by beauty, friends and love.  I actually thought ‘If I were dead, they’d still be doing this.’  If at some point I’m not around and my family is, this is what will surround them.  That is comforting to me.

As for updates:  I am feeling well.  Radiation is still healing, believe it or not.  It flares some times, it itches sometimes.  I’m keeping it moisturized.   It seems my family is moving on as well.  I wear insta-breast to work like a good girl, most days.  I don’t wear it at all on weekends.  On especially hot days, it’s the first thing to come off when I get home.  I do feel good and frankly, less self conscious, now when I wear it in my professional life.  My chiropractor asked this week if I’d made any decisions about reconstruction, and I took a minute to answer.  When I told him my answer I felt so sure of myself and the direction I / we have chosen.  He said something about being very interested in our thought process and reasons for our choice.  And then he added “This is how you made it through this whole ordeal so steady and strong P.  You took your time, you respected your body, you accepted help, guidance and love. ”

I have to leave you with two more photos.  They speak for themselves.  They actually go side by side.

Sunset from Harbor Mountain