If Living Were Easy, Anybody Could Do It

I never thought I'd hear the words "Stage 3 Colon Cancer." Wish I never had.

The surgery was drastic, and I lost an instant ten pounds, and two days of knowing what was going on around me. I'm told people visited me, and I responded, but that is all in a black hole.

Then there were other things that had to be done -- the worst for me, a chemo port being put into my shoulder.

After studying the situation, being given the cold information from various sources, I'm viewing chemo (and radiation) with skepticism.

I'm a writer with at least four projects in various states of delay while I went through the wierd inability to concentrate which was probably a symptom of the growing seriousness of my condition. I don't want a rigorous, debilitating course of treatment that will disable me for what useful (writing) life I have remaining. (I turn 70 next month.)

I'm trying to be upbeat. It comes out in off-beat, rapid-fire gallows humor -- some of the best of it directed at my surgeon -- but at least he laughs. I'm not so sure it's going to get me through, but it might well be more effective than the chemo and the radiation.

I Always Knew He Was a Prince

My husband and I have been married for 47 years, and there have been ups and downs -- as in all marriages. And once you get to white hair, glasses and wrinkled skin, well, it's hard to see the love.

But in the month since my surgery, it's hard to miss it. Someone takes my arm when I have to walk a little distance. Or brings me a snack in the middle of the afternoon.

Recovering from surgery is an up-down-sideways path, and last night it was more miserable than most. I asked DH to put his arm around me, and he did, but he also made sure the blanket was in place and that my second pillow was where I needed it. Such little things don't take all the pain away -- but they make it more bearable.