Reluctantly, Ive decided to share a couple of pages from my sketchbook where I keep my not so very good
Fast. Faster. Gone in a moment. Sometimes before we realize how much faster cancer cells move than our bodies can fend off. We look in the mirror and watch our faces change. We feel our skin and it feels as though it’s not our own. Our breasts change in size, shape, and functional capabilities. Instead of life giving joyous appendages they’ve .become hired guns out to kill the very support system for which they once worked
There’s no cancer Mecca where everyone faces east at a specific time of day to pray. If your words are true, come sit with me and share your prayers. Else, please don’t say you pray as a good way to design an end to a conversation you’d rather not have. If I can handle nearly every night in the hospital since thanksgiving except for this last week, it’s okay not to pray or say you even think about it, but maybe you do. So, my heart says, “leave it alone and don’t look a gift rabbi in the mouth.” But I can’t.
By Saturday morning the removal of another 6.5 liters of fluid drain from me like a waterbed by one of three periocentesis experts, whom I’d met just a year prior right on the same date who came in to poke a hole in my right lower abdomen and guided by an ultrasound and his body of knowledge he said, I swear, “let’s drain you dry.” And drain I did to 15 lbs of relief.