Four

If all goes well I'll be done with chemo in just four more weekly treatments.

Next up: radiation, five days a week for five and a half weeks, 28 treatments in all. Originally, the plan was twenty-five treatments beginning two weeks after chemo ends, but the daily two-hour commute seemed daunting so I switched doctors, and now the plan is for twenty-eight treatments, and a three-week layover.

Putting aside the the fact that I won't be done until August when I originally thought June, it is still so good to know that there is an end to all this cancer hassle and that it is fast approaching.

Radiation scares me. It raises my chances of inducing another cancer by 1%, which doesn't sound like much until you consider that it only lowers my chances of a breast cancer recurrence, and only in the radiated area, by 5%. And there are other long-term risks to consider as well.

I don't have answers for any of this today, or even the mental energy to devote to contemplating the questions. So, for now, I'll focus on this moment's treasures. Four of them:

Abundance. I feel so gratified observing all the dry goods in my kitchen, the jars of rice and beans and noodles, nuts and dried fruit, spices and teas. I recently rooted through all of it, organizing and consolidating and cleaning. I felt good doing it, thankful that I have so much, that I live in a time and place where I never lack for food.

My husband. He holds me and laughs with me, creates a mellow, love-filled home with me, and feels, as I do, so blessed by our bond. Oh, and also, he's a really good kisser.

Friends. Today's example - I wanted a bike ride today but not alone. S~ not only showed up on short notice to ride with me, but with food he'd made just for me that morning: spicy chana masala (chick pea and tomato curry) and fragrant basmati rice scented with cardamon, neatly packed in a grocery bag and still warm. Plus a half-dozen eggs from his own chickens.

At home later, hungry and cold, I took a hot shower, threw together a side salad of spinach, jicima, and celery, and ate hearty.

Furry cuteness. You know who you are.

My life — granted, a bit more endangered than I once thought — is still quite sweet.