In the meantime, I've been on a couple of different chemotherapies designed to slow or reverse the tumor's growth, and we're also looking at clinical trials. It's been a tiring, frustrating challenge, as I've mentioned before.
And each time there's been a bump (ha!) in the road, I've thought, What if this is it? What if this is all the time I have?
I've seriously not known if I'd make it to Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. But looky, apparently I did.
And I don't know how much time I have ahead. Enough, I dearly hope, to enjoy my parents' visit in a couple of weeks. Dare I reach for our wedding anniversary in February? What about seeing the arrival of the 30 hyacinths I planted in the fall? What about The Boy's birthday in June? Is that asking too much?
While it's a cliché I'd happily punch in the face, all I can really do is take it one day at a time. Today, for instance, The Boy has booked us a suite at the Hotel Commonwealth. I intend to spend the day in my pajamas watching movies before taking a large and indulgent bath. A week ago, staggering through the exhausting side effects of chemo, the idea of leaving the house was too much to contemplate, so this is a big step.
And a nice change for The Boy. I certainly can't go on without mentioning everything he's done to keep me sane over the last few months, falling into roles he never expected, learning medical skills he really shouldn't need to know. Finding me things to eat. Taking on more of the household chores. Going out in snowstorms to get medical supplies. Letting me rail at him because there was no one else around.
Y'all better be good to him, is what I'm saying.
So, day at a time. Most will be quiet, subdued, nap-enhanced; this seems to be my modus operandum. And where once I may have struggled against that, now I accept it. I have books still to read, movies to watch, things to say.
So I won't get another 45 years. How about 45 days?
Yeah, I can do something with that.