read the full post at my sister’s blog, if i had a photograph

last year i spent thanksgiving in the hospital fighting for my life.  this year i celebrated at home with my family.

happy thanksgiving to you and yours.  let’s do this again next year.

mary jessica hammes has been working on my story for babygooroo.com.

it’s finally up.  go over and have a read, even if you think you already know it by heart.

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.

it’s been known for some time that a component of breastmilk, called human alpha-lactalbubin made lethal to tumor cells (HAMLET for short!) causes cancer cells to die.

you can read more of tanya’s post here and read what i did with my own breastmilk during my battle with cancer here.  tanya also ran a piece on my journey here.

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.

it’s fast, it’s easy, it might save a life.
send a message 

from livestrong.com:

it’s world cancer day and we’re all doing our part to encourage our friends and family to take some simple steps to fight cancer.  one important way to guard against cancer is to talk to your doctor about your risk factors.

will you send the message below to your friends and family, asking them to check in with their doctor today?  a little encouragement goes a long way and we all have to work together to keep our loved ones healthy.

there’s a choice we’re making.  we’re saving our own lives.

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.