where’s my army?  where’s my band of brothers?  (most of them, awol, i fear, gone bamboo, off lurking in their idyllic hideouts.)

i never said i’d be easy.  i never promised not to be a complete disaster.  i thought i held up a big end of the bargain.  i lived.

that didn’t end my war though.  so where are you? i’m not asking for your sympathy, your understanding, your tears.  i just want your help.  and if you can’t find your way to here to offer it, then let me come to you.

the cleanest i’ve been.  an end to the tears and the in-between years and the troubles i’ve seen?

well, at least for now.

this afternoon i had an appointment with my oncologist to go over my latest pet/ct scan results.  no uptake was noted except for in the thymus, which is expected post-transplant.

i’ll go back for a check-up in three months and if all is well then, i’ll have a ct scan three months after that.

wednesday’s results are really now just hours away. well, lots of hours, but still just hours now, and completely swallowing me whole.

we have a new pup. while i type, he lays next to me twitching with little doggie hiccups. he’s like a big, white, furry painkiller, sedative and heating pad all in one. now i understand animal therapy.

dogs need jobs, activities that will fill their days, occupy their thoughts and fulfill their sense of duty. mars knows his now. he takes care of me in my craziest of moments, naps at my side, escorts me downstairs at 3am and would undoubtedly protect me from even the slightest threat.

sure, he’d rather be chasing cats instead of being forced to “give them kisses!” or playing with the neighborhood dogs instead of learning to politely ignore the most exciting thing he sees all day, but he’s happily settling into his routine.

i wish i could bring him to all of my oncological appointments. i know he’ll be here waiting anxiously for me to get home, regardless of wednesday’s results. he’ll be more excited to see me than anyone else and couldn’t care less about how my scan went. mars is only interested in a pet if it starts on his head and trails down his back. good dog.

the new office actually called us yesterday afternoon asking to reschedule because someotherdoctor’sofficewhoshallremainnameless did not send the requested files.  apparently we are required to use their super special records request form. 

seems like perhaps they just wanted to get us on the phone so they could hear for themselves that in fact, no, we won’t ever be going back there, and yes, it’s just because we really don’t like them anymore.  um, i mean, “it’s just too far.”

i love my original oncologist, but he’s in northern virginia and that’s finally become a point of contention.  my transplant oncologist, however, is the one who sent me looking for the nearest sand pit, and truth be told, a new oncologist.  i really just could not deal with his callousness, nor step foot into that mcghetto hospital one more time, though i imagine anywhere i’d gone for the transplant i would now loathe.

thank you all for being at my side, in whatever capacity that might be.

i’ve spent the better part of today looking for myself, wondering what happened to me, if i might remember, and so that i don’t forget again.  there have just been so many days in such a very long row that i’ve been lost, lost to myself, to my family, my friends, my neighbors, to you.

this afternoon i put in a few more hours working on my office.  i found some of my tools in the garage.  i’d missed calling them mine.  i found spools of ribbon in a cabinet and remembered the christmases, birthdays and weddings i’d gotten them for.  i hung rolls of pretty wrapping paper on freshly painted rods while listening to music i hadn’t heard in far too long.  i heard forgotten memories in long-loved lyrics and found little bits of myself tucked into drawers, hidden away in boxes and slid between the pages of books.

the room isn’t finished and neither am i.  i have so many things to do.  i hear a thousand projects and unanswered thoughts calling my name.  perhaps it’s here, in my own space, that i’ll be able to sort through them all.

i had a pet scan this morning.  it should determine if i am in remission.  it’s unheard results are weighing heavily on my heart and mind.  it’s hard to focus when there’s so much to see through.

i still need help to get through most days, somtimes paralyzed by a fear that hangs on to me like a shadow.  it’s hard to ask for help day after day.  it’s hard to watch myself being consumed or idly slipping away.  but even though i might not be all there, i am still here, waiting, just like you.

there was a mass exodus on foot.  people fled the city via every bridge possible.  the subways and trains weren’t in service.  grand central was locked down because of bomb threat. our building was locked down, too.  a cell phone signal near impossible to come by.

nuggetdaddy was working in new jersey then and i was finally able to get a hold of him.  we decided i would take the first train out of the city and he would pick me up whereve we could both get to.  i made it on the first train out of grand central.  it was sweltering.  the train filled with an acrid stench.   most passengers were covered in a heavy white dust, and in more than their fair share of blood.

it didn’t matter where the train was going, people just got on in hopes of making it out of the city.  the train stopped at every single station en route.  it took seemingly forever.

nuggetdaddy picked me up at the fleetwood stop and we decded to try to drive back into the city.  we had pets and freinds to check on.  family and friends desperate to hear our voices.  we were finally able to make it back in over some tiny bridge in the bronx.

by now the city was silent.  there were no planes in the air, no people on the streets.  when we woke up the next morning the wind had changed direction.  the stench was unbearable.  we stayed in the apartment all weekend, happy to be alive and at home with the pets and dr. roommate.

so, su2c, there’s your answer!

it’s hard to blog when i’m depressed.  you can gauge my state of mind for yourself just by the frequency of my posts.

monday, i go back to inova loudoun for the week for my last dose of eshap chemo before my transplant.  no, cancer doesn’t get labor day off.