I’ve been overwhelmed–in the best way–by the cards and gifts and thoughtful things that my friends and loved ones have sent me.
You all have no idea how much it has meant to me. I want you to know that I have treasured everything. Every kindness, every prayer, every bit of love you send my way.
You will never know how much it has helped knowing that people care. I thank you so much.
I am feeling better. In the last few days I’ve turned some kind of corner. The pain is less intense. The arm exercises no longer cause tears. I’ve been making Banjo Man laugh again. And this morning–drum roll, please–I wiped down my kitchen counter.
That was a very big deal for me, Couch Potato Extraordinaire that I have turned into. For the past six weeks I’ve admired the new kitchen from afar and stayed away from things that would cut or burn me (lymphedema is something I have to deal with now), but today I boiled water and cleaned a counter. Progress! There are precautions galore and some things will never be the same (obviously), but I am slowly turning into “me” again.
And it feels pretty damn good.
Want to know the strangest–and funniest–gift I received?
Barbara surprised me with a chipmunk. She’d trapped it because it was eating her strawberries and, knowing the Funny Grandson and I love chipmunks, brought me another mouth to feed. Honestly, how funny is that?!?
My Texas family has returned home, so the house is quiet. Very quiet. No one has asked me to play UNO for days. I’m suffering withdrawal and eating ice cream bars all by myself.
Monday starts the radiation portion of my “to hell with cancer” program. I’m not sure what “mapping” means, but there is going to be some kind of dress rehearsal for the radiation treatments. I’ve been told that small tattoos are in my future. Who knew? Once the treatments start we’ll be going to Providence every day for six weeks.
I’m ready for the next stage.
Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been 94. I like to think he’s watching over me and cheering me on, just like all of you have.