Sunday morning

I’ve washed and cut my hair again, overwhelmed by the burning sensation from the Tarceva rash on my scalp.  (I think the Minocycline’s effectiveness has ceased)  I’ve had coffee and breakfast, watched Nigella Lawson and Tyler Florence, sorted through 10 years worth of saved recipe clippings, and now…well, now I really must contemplate cleaning the house.

Hubby’s been gone for a month, and while I miss him terribly, his absence has afforded me the time to diddle with the blog migration from Vox, sleep in, do very little in the way of laundry, dishes, and cooking, in short, relax a bit.  I don’t know why I do it, but when he’s home, I feel I must prove industrious—because I don’t work, I’ve got to show that the combination of housework and cancer survival must somehow equal his financial support.  It’s silly, I know, but I don’t want to aggravate the feeling of his constant work and my constant staying at home.  Both are tiring, but it’s probably difficult for him to see how staying at home could be difficult (it’s the cancer part that is, obviously.  The part where you know you can’t be cured and you have to do everything in your power to keep going and hopefully maintain the current state of limbo.)

So it’s another gorgeous fall day.  The past month has been a miracle of good weather, finally, after a miserably cold summer.  I think I might bake at some point today or tomorrow, but I shouldn’t waste the day inside.  So, out I go, to do my last bit of thinking about stuff, about doom and gloom, and wonder if I have time to take a trip to Italy and England before the other shoe drops.

Walking the line between wishing for more time and good health and trying to imagine a decline (which is only trying to be realistic) is strange and taxing.  I’ve had 4 years, but I’m still not ready.  I’ve said it before (and it bears repeating)—I don’t think you can really be ready when you feel okay.  I think you can only really prepare when the sh*t starts hitting the fan.  Until then, you just want to live it up, I think.  You can’t help yourself, can you?  I’m sure it’s just the person I am, waiting until the last minute to do everything.  Old habits die hard.


If I had a future

I want to do this!



7 thoughts on “Sunday morning

  1. Lots on your mind. Every day must be a struggle between being happy you made it another day and knowing that tomorrow could be it. I hope you get to take those trips and have some wonderful memories of it. In the end, our life is just about moments, not days or weeks. I hope yo get plenty more moments.

    that picture? I did that. My wife? Freaked the hell out. I walked right to the edge, slowly of course, camera in hand and looked over the edge into the deep beyond. All the while, she cursed up a storm, got increasingly frantic and threatened several times to leave me physically and also divorce me. I will have to find those pictures I took.

    Funny part is, for all her frantic pleas, that peek into the canyon depths below, the silence, the calmness, so serene… It was a beautiful moment for me to put away in my book of memories.

    • I love that (about the canyon). It’s true, our most vivid memories are the ones full of surprise and depth (no pun intended). I’m sorry I only met you at Vox’s demise, but you have a neighbor in me. Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.

      BTW I was just at Legoland last week…LOL

      • I’ve found that now that VOX is gone, I’m still meeting new and wonderful people in similar ways. Catching a comment on other places I’ve stopped to comment adn following them to their posts. It’s like following a trail and connecting hte dots.

        Ah, Legoland. I’ve always had plans to go, but never quite made it. Soon. I hope. I know it’s kind of cheesy, for little kids or Lego geeks, but I’ve always wante dto see the Lego art work. I tried to get my daughter’s friend to come over and rummage through the brick bin to see what she could come up with. She does wonderful things with scultpure.

        My daughter does wonders with pen, ink, charcoal, things of that nature.

      • It’s always great to have an artistic spirit in the house, and better yet that you appreciate it (lord knows, so many parents don’t).

        You MUST go to Legoland! I’m in Cali and the one here is where I used to live (Carlsbad, CA), a wonderful beach community in northern San Diego county. Legos rule! My sister and I took her grandkids for Brick or Treat—holidays are extra magical. I hope to get the Harry Potter kit and build Hogwart’s this fall…once I clear my office. I know, I’m a nerd 😉 I used to work for a judge who bought a Lego Wrigley Field at a fundraising bazaar. We displayed it in the courtroom but it sort of became a distraction so we had to move it to chambers after a week. At the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota there’s a 4-1/2 foot tall replica of the original hospital in the lobby…Legos are Danish crack!

  2. You should go have a look over at Anything and everything Lego there. If they don’t have it out for sale there, someone probably has it in their collection. We lived for four years out in West Covina and Yorba Linda. Nice, but expensive. 15 minutes to the beach. The new Harry Potter sets are out, saw them online and in tthe stores. They released another version of Hogwarts Castle too along with several new and very cool looking sets.

  3. From my own experience, I understand the feelings of responsibility and the feelings of being just happy to be around. After that, I guess, everything is unique to our own situation. I remain in awe of your objectivity. I wish …

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