ESPN and Not Giving Up

I'm in the midst of a week of mostly crappy early spring weather. I'm making good use of it. My taxes are done. The basement is organized (something I've been meaning to do for a year). This morning I stood out in the rain and prepared a bed of mushroom spawn and woodchips, my first attempt at growing edible fungi, something I've been wanting to do for decades. And now I'm catching up on many months of loose ends on the computer.

In the process, just now I came across a link to this video broadcasted on ESPN this past winter, one of several which included clips from my video blog. (That's me on the couch, on the bike, in the pool)

I just watched it twice, and burst into tears both times.

It occurred to me that I haven't shared it on this blog, that I've all but abandoned this blog, and my video diary too. There are reasons for this which go beyond shifting priorities and busy schedules, as much as I'd like to think otherwise. I won't try to explain it all now, but I will say that the reality of cancer is not as Hollywood as it appears in the media. It's not all drama, triumph and tragedy, not simply a battle you either win or lose. For many of us, it's more like a rocky road that leaves you battered and scarred and permanently altered in ways that are difficult to describe, or to believe aren't your own fault because you're not thinking positive, not trying hard enough.

And then you keep stumbling over more rocks.

To say the least, it can get hard to keep putting attention on it, let alone drawing attention to it, editing video and writing about it in a public way.

I would like to leave cancer behind. But it's not that simple.

Don't get me wrong, my life is good. I'm basically healthy. There's laughter, and love, deepening friendships and new friendships, challenge and excitement. But there's also the specter of death, the feeling of living a slightly diminished life, thanks to daily pills that oh-so-subtly suppress my life force, while hopefully also suppressing recurrence of disease. It's a difficult trade, but a necessary one.

On the other hand, we all have challenges.

In the famous speech that launched the foundation in his name and the ESPN video series that prompted this post, Jimmy Valvano said "Don't give up. Don't ever give up."

Of course not.

My road may be rocky, but I still hope it's long.

Spring Cleaning

The last of my out-dated footage, from last summer. More of my videos here.

I love spring cleaning. There is nothing more hopeful than clearing the decks, sweeping out the clutter, knocking items off the "To Do" list. Jim and I have a weekly practice now. We made a list of all the things we've been intending to take care of——repairs around the house, financial reckonings, projects of all stripes. Every Monday evening we sit together and look at the list. We add and subtract, then pick a few of the most pressing items to tackle in the coming week, addressing the hows and whens and who-does-whats.

This weekend we'll deep-clean one room in the house together. We'll order wood for next winter. We'll wash and trim our dog's overgrown fur.

I'm becoming increasingly judicious about new projects.

For instance, I'm resisting the urge to replace the oft-used staple foods in our pantry, opting instead to make creative use of all those items I continually push to the back of the shelf.

Ultimately, the goal is to get to a point where there is no backlog, where there's room to take on new, bigger, more interesting and important challenges, without the energy-drain of worry over all the fraying loose-ends in the background.

I'm also thinking a lot about the world outside my little bubble——like climate change and how we privileged few humans are running roughshod over the earth, its creatures, and more vulnerable people, all the exploitation of land and people that support our "American way of life." I want to be done feeling bad about myself because I feel so powerless to affect change. And so, as I work, I am also educating myself, thinking about how to engage politically, something I've avoided until now.

Life is an adventure. And it's short. Will you join me in getting your chores done so that we can take on the bigger challenges together?

Here's a great talk by Naomi Klein that has gotten me going on this path. If you watch it, I'd love to know what you think.

Fake Boobs, Lipstick, and Stretching Myself

I'm about to work on the next video and realized I haven't shared with you this last one. Inching toward present time.... More of my videos here.

Things are happening!

Gifts for my Spark*Letter subscribers.
More on this (coming soon)
at LifeCraft (my art/design blog).

Between the books I'm writing, graphic design work for clients, the garden, the dog, and my over-the-top need to spend long hours on a bicycle (Jim and I rode 114 miles together yesterday—7.5 hours in the saddle—plus I went out for another 35 this morning) I'm busy, to say the least. I also started my Spark*Letter newsletter, the first issue of which was far more enthusiastically received than I dared imagine, which makes me eager to write the next one. Which is awesome. I'm inspired to inspire. What could be better?

Perhaps the biggest news is that I have a new job in the fall, teaching graphic design at a nearby university. I'm sure my feelings will change once I get into preparing my syllabus (I plan to start this week) but at the moment, I'll admit it—I'm scared! What if my students hate me? What if I'm dreadfully boring and can't get them to engage? What if I say something mean by mistake? It's not that I haven't taught before and done just fine. But in the past, I wasn't scared like this. Then again, I want to connect with and inspire and serve my students in a way I haven't before. It's going to be a stretch.

I'm convinced this is a good kind of scared, jumping off the high-dive kind of scared, expanding the parameters of who I am kind of scared.

I'm also planning to wear my prosthetic when I teach.

This was a difficult decision, still subject to change.

It's coming up on four years since my mastectomy. I didn't even consider reconstructive surgery (though the surgeon who did my mastectomy worried I'd regret the decision and made me promise to at least talk to the plastic surgeon—I never got around to it). In all this time, I haven't felt the slightest regret. I've worn my prosthetic breast in public for exactly one hour.

I like being my authentic self in the world. I've never been the can't-leave-the-house-without-lipstick kind of girl. In fact, I've never been able to leave the house with lipstick. I feel increasingly ridiculous in makeup, haven't worn any in years. I rarely shave. I feel so privileged to see how, to the people who know and care about me, my hairy legs and lopsided chest matter not in the least. And I'm constantly surprised and touched by strangers who are not repelled by my body. I wish all women had the opportunity to see that their true selves are just fine. We're all so tortured by the beautification industry exploiting and aggravating our insecurities to the point that we're convinced we're intolerably unattractive.

If we're ashamed of our bodies, no wonder we struggle to show our minds!

Don't get me wrong. I'm not immune to this conditioning. I notice people's reactions to my asymmetry. I'm vigilant around strangers. I hate when I'm caught off-guard, talking to someone who is unable to pay attention to my words, they're so busy frowning in confusion as they stare at my chest, trying to comprehend the enigma of my torso. (Come to think of it, this feels less bad than when I'd catch someone staring at my chest back in the day when I had two breasts. It's just that this new kind of staring happens more often.)

I don't want to deal with that while I'm standing in front of a classroom. I don't want to distract my students from the work at hand. I don't want to distract myself wondering if my body is a distraction. It's probably no big deal either way, but I'm ready to try a change of pace.

Just don't expect me to put on lipstick.

Giving it Away

Still catching up, but this is the most recent one. More of my videos here.

I did it! I've been postponing writing the first edition of the Spark*Letter newsletter for, I don't know, let's just say a very long time. And I'm so excited that I finally broke through my resistance that I've included an offer of a free token of appreciation for my first-at-bat subscribers, an actual care package to arrive on your doorsteps (or whatever doorsteps or PO boxes you direct me to) which will include a sample pack of my inspirational art postcards plus a one-of-a-kind hand-made thank you card for each person.

Me, my niece and nephew, and a tiger. We are fearless.

Why am I teasing you with this information? Because it's not too late—I haven't actually mailed the newsletter out yet! (Sign up on this page - the link is at the top right.)

Maybe some day my list will be so big I won't be able to offer such a personalized prize, but for now the offer stands.

Or maybe I'll keep it up. Maybe the next issue will include bigger gifts. Maybe someday I'll be Oprah and Santa Claus combined, handing out cars and televisions and iPhones.

Okay, to be fair, it's not my goal to buy your love and loyalty, and we don't really need more stuff, do we? I'm just a kid with a bouquet of wilting dandelions. But what could be more precious? I'm offering my heart. And the more I give away, the richer I feel, and the more inspired I am to make something new.

Wow. I just had a vision of a weekly routine that includes a couple of hours writing and making thank you notes. How awesome would that be, to have so much to be thankful for?

It doesn't seem so far-fetched, come to think of it.

There's always more dandelions.

On Juggling

More of my videos here.

Fear not! I'm alive and healthy.

I forget that people worry about that. I forget that I'm important to people.

I visited a doctor recently, who is also a friend. She burst into tears when I explained I'd come in because I was due for a check-up rather than because the cancer was back and I needed her help gearing up for more hard-core treatment. I was surprised and humbled by her emotion, and I suppose also flattered.

So I mean it sincerely when I say I'm sorry for my lack of communication. I've been neglectful of this blog, and of my video-making practice. It isn't because I don't love you (I do) or because I've lost interest (I haven't). I just got to the point where I was juggling way too many balls and the circus act had lost its charm.

This video is terribly out of date, but I hope you enjoy it just the same. (There's one more beyond this one, and then a little raw footage I still plan to process.)

After that, a clean slate.

Well, not exactly clean.

I'm in the finishing touches stage with a book-length memoir (about the year I spent homeless, traveling the country, living in my van) and the second draft phase of yet another memoir (about infertility and abortion and everything that prompted this blog in the first place.) I'm planning a third book too, a memoir of living happily ever after cancer, and a cookbook. Stay tuned for more on that. In the meantime, it's almost time to begin shopping for a book agent.

Oh, and also, I started writing for Reimagine magazine. Two articles so far (salad recipes), two more soon to come. Find those here.

Please subscribe to Spark*Letter (top right of this page) if you want more of me. I promise I won't inundate you with spam. In fact, I'll let you in on a secret—I'm yet to send a single message. But I'm gearing up for the first installment of a short, fun, inspiring, monthly email treat. Perhaps I will shower my ground-floor subscribers with gifts. No kidding. Let me know what you want.

Besides all that, I invite you to follow me on Facebook if you don't already. Because even when deadlines loom and blogging falls to the wayside, I still find time to share adorable and hilarious photos of my dog, and inspirational/aspirational pictures of my lunch, and other random snippets of life.

I hope you are well. I hope that if you're juggling too many balls, like I was, that you put some down. Apologize if you must, but do whatever is necessary to place yourself firmly in the center of your own life. Despite what you learned when you were two, you have the right to the word "No." You are allowed to change your mind. Juggling is not required.

Strange Days Indeed

More of my videos here.

I'm getting back in the saddle, making videos again, writing on the blog. I just uploaded another belated video from this summer, but I never shared its predecessor here, so I'm posting that one first.

My office this afternoon is a hospital waiting room. I'm passing the time while my husband undergoes minor surgery. His surgeon, who comes highly recommended, was the doctor who diagnosed me with breast cancer three years ago. It wasn't until after after the biopsy, after his diagnosis—which was delivered over the phone at my request—, at my second office visit, when I requested that he show me where my lymph nodes were because I kept worrying something was wrong there even though he'd said otherwise, that he found the lump there too.

I will never forget the look on his face in that moment.

I haven't spoken to him since I left his office that day.

Both Jim and I felt a little tension about how he might react when he saw me today, sitting at Jim's side pre-op. Jim actually considered asking me to stay away, so as not to add stress to his surgical experience, but I reassured him that I would follow the doctor's lead, that I would be pleasant, and he decided it would be okay.

"Nice to meet you," the doctor said, shaking my hand with a perfunctory smile, turning his attention to the man of the hour.

Apparently he didn't recognize me at all. Or else he was being discreet.

Just now he called my cell to tell me the surgery is done and that it went very well.

What a strange thing, hearing this man's voice in my ear as I'd heard it once before, delivering good news instead of bad.

As I said before, life goes on.

Beach Report

Medical drama and family fun in this one. More videos here.

Last Friday, on a whim, I packed up and took myself for a day at the Rhode Island shore. It was just what I needed, both a reminder that my beloved ocean isn't so terribly far from home, and an affirmation that there is pleasure in my own company (how nice to not have to hurry from the car to the beach, for instance, because taking my time gathering my things was holding someone up).

I'm a bit behind on posting videos, but cranking along with writing. My manuscript is now over three hundred pages. I feel the weight of all those words. It's harder to write lately, perhaps because I'm just coming to the crux of the story.

It is my hope that I'll be able to get to the end of this draft by the end of the first week of September. And then I'll return to the beach for a couple of days, this time with Jim. Because I like his company too.

Spoiler Alert

(From this spring. Uploaded the sequel to this one today. More of my videos here.)

I'm closing in on page three hundred of the first draft of what I hope one day will be the Babies or Not book. Once I'm finished—I figure I've got fifty or so more pages to write—I'll print the whole thing out and sit with it some place comfortable. In the warm sun I hope, maybe in a meadow or perhaps on a beach if I can finagle that, or else on the couch or sitting up in bed. In any case, I'll have a good red pen and some snacks and a notepad at my side.

I imagine I'll have some new writing to incorporate into the second draft, and a lot of older writing to strip away or wrangle into something more tightly honed. Eventually, I'll have a completed manuscript, the story of my journey through the reproductive years, which turned out very differently than I ever expected it would.

Early on in writing this, I began to imagine pitching the book to an agent or an editor, saying, "It's the story of an infertile abortion counselor's urgent but ambivalent desire to have children."

This imaginary conversation spawned a worry. What would I say if the editor or agent asks, "How does it end?" At first I drew a blank. So I asked myself, How does it end?

The answer came without a moment's hesitation. It's not exactly a fairy tale, but it's close enough for me:

"She gets cancer and lives happily ever after."

I hope the world wants this book, but if not, I'll be okay. I'll live my way into the next story.

Snow Ball Effect

#144, My latest on Youtube:
Two Years of Procrastination
Ends NOW

Of the mountain of mundane "To Do" tasks I've been up to my neck in lately (physical therapy, taxes, laundry, client work, and even one item that's been floating at the bottom of the list for years – see the video link above for more on that) at this point I've cleared away enough to report to my husband that I'm Finally and Triumphantly... cleared out to the waist.

It's a good feeling. 

Once you get started on a rampage like the one I'm on these days, the more freed up you get, and in turn, the more inspired you get. To harp on the analogy, I imagine a pile of paper and envelopes, with me pinned in the center of it all. First I was up to my neck, handling thing with my teeth. And now I have two hands free! It's a snow-ball effect, in the very best sense of the term. 

I am focused and determined in a way I haven't been in a long long time, maybe ever. And along with that focus comes clarity, a clarity that allows me the occasional moment when I can feel confident that nothing will fall apart if I take a break. Not long enough for a full day's reprieve, but I'm closing in on that.

I actually picked up my guitar last night. And dug out my old music binder. 

You may not know this about me, but back in the day, I wrote maybe a hundred songs. I've got all the lyrics preserved on various scraps of paper, but some of the melodies are long forgotten. Some are semi-forgotten, some etched upon my synapses perhaps forever. Last night I dredged up a couple of the oldest ones. These may be the strangest, overly-wordy, most embarrassingly sentimental ditties of all time. But I played them anyway, with gusto, in celebration of the strange, overly-wordy, embarrassingly sentimental kid I used to be. 

And then I went to bed early.

Sometimes that's all it takes to enjoy life.

Big Decisions

#142, My latest on Youtube:
Poodle Knows Best

There's an energy in this week's work that reminds me of spring cleaning. Except the only thing I'm cleaning up is the clutter in my mind, on my To Do list, and on my desk. I've posted a new video diary, a new Salad Diary, and now a new post here. I just wrapped up a website update project for a client, a logo design for another. I'm doing my taxes. I'm paying my bills. I'm working through my inboxes, both paper and email.

My goal is to pull myself up out of the deluge of rote tasks to a point where I can press pause with confidence, knowing there is nothing crucial hanging out in the wind. And then I'm going to take a day for myself. I'll go for a swim. I'll go for a long walk in the woods. Millie will come along for that, romping through patches of wet snow, sniffing clumps of rotting leaves, tugging at my pant leg and nosing at my coat pocket for treats and tennis balls. Eventually she'll run off after a sound or a scent, and I will be free to breathe, to think, to notice that I am alive and not inextricably tied to a keyboard and a screen.

And then I'll take myself out to lunch, some place comfortable, some place with excellent herbal tea, where I'll sit for a long while with a journal and a pen.

And then I'm going to make some big decisions about what comes next.

I'll keep you posted.

Catching Up, Letting Go, Getting Clear

#142, My latest on Youtube:
The Grand Canyon, Lymphedema, and Marathon Men

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you see your path as if from above, recognizing the patterns repeating, the contours of the landscape you've traveled over and over in recursive circles? Off in the distance, you can make out the little one you once were and how alone in the world you felt way back then, how powerless. You can see the choices you made based on the assumption that you would be on your own, in a certain way, forever. But you feel in your bones how things are different now, how you can put down the recursive circling, the coping mechanisms, the masks, the chalkline limits you once accepted as absolutes. But now you have power. You can ask for help. You can rescue yourself. You can slow down.

For several years now I've had pain in my lower back and hips that I have been trying, alternately, to manage and to ignore. Perhaps in an attempt to avoid hassel and disappointment, I've been reluctant to seek help. But recently I have been taking it on. This recent x-ray of me, presumably standing perfectly straight, shows how misaligned my hips are, which at least partially explains why I'm in pain.

You can slow down.

This is happening to me lately, and it is intense, emotional, and deeply good.

If you haven't had a moment like this, know that it is possible. You must dig in and you must move toward it with purpose. But it is a gentle purposefulness.

Like an anthropologist, you excavate. Like an investigator, one by one, you connect the dots.  Like climbing a mountain, you put one foot in front of the other until the vista opens up before you.

You do it in therapy, you do it in conversation, you do it on your bicycle, on the yoga mat, in your journal, on the canvas. You do it by sitting still. You do it by refusing to rush. You do it by resisting abandoning yourself when you are uncomfortable, even if for only a single minute longer than you thought you could before. You do it by breathing. You do it by taking radically good care of yourself.

Escape to NYC

Enjoy!

More of my videos here.

Shifting

The bright side. More of my videos here.

I haven't been much of a blogger lately. I haven't been writing. I haven't been posting news of my latest videos, at least not promptly. And lately, I'm not even making as many videos.

So what's going on?

Simply put, my energy is shifting.

I plan to fill you in, but in the meantime, I plan to catch you up. We'll start with this video - hope you enjoy.

Matthew Morrison and the Question of Being Important

More of my videos here.

My brother who lives in Los Angeles has dozens of stories of interactions with celebrities, but I do not. Come to think of it, I only have two.

The first happened late at night in the mid 1990s as I was leaving a nearly deserted train station in New Haven, Connecticut. I don't remember why I was there, or why I had my mother's car, but I do remember driving it past the station doors on my way out. And I remember recognizing the lone young woman with the long brown curls standing outside with a backpack slung over her shoulder. It was Sara Gilbert, the actress better known as Darlene Connor on the then popular sitcom "Roseanne." I was actually a fan of hers. I related to the sarcastic misfit, athletic, strong-minded, unsexy character she played, and I was grateful to see that such a character could be celebrated on TV. My jaw dropped and my eyebrows shot up. In other words, I made the silent human face equivalent of a great big loud exclamation point. She saw me, rolled her eyes, and looked away.

Her reaction made me realize that I was seeing "celebrity" rather than "human being." It was embarrassing.

My second celebrity encounter, documented in the video above, comes many years later with a personal introduction and no eye-rolling, but I still felt it, that chasm between celebrity and human. It was a thrill to meet Matt Morrison, and that felt somehow wrong.

Why should it matter so much to us common folk to have met a celebrity? Why do these superficial interactions hold our attention?

My guess is we all need to feel important and mostly don't feel that way. These brushes with fame, or the famous, give us a glimmer of an inkling of what it might feel like if we actually believed we matter. I mean really REALLY matter.

So now I'm wondering, what would life be like if we flipped this dynamic on it's head? If we decided to act as if we KNEW we were important, as if anyone, celebrities included, would be THRILLED to be with US. If every morning we got out of bed as an important person about to have an important day.

Because the truth is, you ARE important. And this day is one of the precious unrepeatable days of YOUR important life, worthy of your full attention, worthy of savor.

I plan to savor myself, MY day.

But first, can I have your autograph?

Thanks Be

With no cancer check-ups on the horizon until January and no major athletic challenges until February (more on that later), I am enjoying this opportunity to take care of body, complete work projects, and overhaul my house from the ground up. Literally. Just last night I went on a rampage cleaning the basement, a chore that has been on my list for months. It felt great to finally feel inspired to get to it. So great, in fact, that I started thinking about scraping and re-finishing the upstairs bathroom ceiling. I've been watching the popcorn ceiling paint come down in flakes and chunks for years and not until now has the task seemed within my reach.

Life is good!

Treasure Map

Regular readers will not be surprised to learn that I believe in emotion. Not as a guide to action — action should be guided by the logical application of information — but as a natural healing mechanism. I think of emotions as "X" marks on the treasure maps of our psyches, the important places to dig in and express in order to recover our full, vibrant, naturally intelligent, creative, and energetic selves. Toward that end, this last video with more laughter per square minute (and a few tears) than ever before. Enjoy!

PS. Music from this video comes to you from BJ Block & Dawn Pemberton and is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License. You can download it for free here.

Brainwashed

My latest video diary - it's a naughty one.

You can download the music from this video
for free: "Requiem for a Fish"
by The Freak Fandango Orchestra
is licensed under a Creative Commons
Attribution-ShareAlike License.

I got out of bed this morning and before I made it across the bedroom floor and into the bathroom I was already thinking that I am too fat. I bring this up not because it's an extraordinary occurrence but because it happens nearly every morning. Even at forty-two years old. Even after cancer and a mastectomy and third place in a half-ironman.

The thought did not upset or derail me any more than a mundane grumble about the weather. It's just a familiar refrain, a background track to my morning routine, like wallpaper that I gaze at daily and never really see.

But for some reason this morning I did see.

You know how they say men think about sex every six minutes? Well I think it's a good bet women worry about the attractiveness of our bodies in about equal measure. I am absolutely sure I am not alone in this. It's obvious - just look at us! The lengths that many of us go to with hair and makeup and diet and exercise, or, for some of us, the lengths we go to to avoid noticing we have bodies at all. But we're constantly measuring our bodies against the women around us, women in movies, and, worst of all, airbrushed Scandinavian teenagers on billboards and in fashion magazines.

Yet we don't admit the full extent of the obsession, not even to ourselves much of the time because either we're so used to it that it doesn't occur to us that it could be different or we're ashamed that we're at all insecure about our attractiveness, or both.

I mean, we are intelligent beings with far more important and interesting things to tackle with our brilliant minds, aren't we? It follows that we might wonder if the fact that we are occupied with hating our thighs instead of, say, ending global poverty or taking charge of the environmental crisis means we are not so smart after all.

But then again, we were brilliant children too, and we understood at a very early age that thinner bodies are more highly valued in our society, especially if those bodies are fair-skinned, blonde, and blue-eyed. We got it that as we grew into adulthood the ease with which we might hold a spotlight in the biggest and even smallest arenas would be tied in the overwhelming majority of cases to whether or not we were considered desirable.

It's sexism, people, and we've internalized it.

In other words, we have been unintentionally brainwashed.

It's time to reclaim our minds and free our bodies from the scrutiny. We are beautiful, incredible beings. Let's treat ourselves accordingly.

Fifteen Minutes of Fame

Download the music from this video for free:

Cafe Connection by morgantj

is licensed under a Creative Commons license

I had a taste of fame on Wednesday of this past week when a producer from the Huffington Post contacted asking if I'd be a guest on a segment of HuffPost Live, which I did that very day. A couple of hours before the live broadcast, a famous Youtuber (Collette Butler aka Katilette) released a video in which she talked about me and this blog in the sweetest, most heartfelt way. As soon as that video went live, the messages and subscriptions to my Youtube channel surged, each generating an automated email to my inbox. Jim and I stood transfixed in front of my computer feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way as we watched the emails pile up, a new one appearing every few seconds.

And somehow, between all the autographs and paparazzi and the face licking (oh wait, that was Millie) I've managed to put together my weekly video. Now that's dedication! ;) Hope you like...

Cheater

Dear readers, I have a confession to make. I've been cheating on you with another blog. I don't mean Life Craft, my long-time art blog. I've been open about that relationship, and to be honest, I've been neglecting it. Not my video-blog on Youtube, which I have been sharing here as well. (Have you seen the Ironman 70.3 video yet, by the way? There's a suprise ending.)

From the Salad Diaries: Barbequed Tempeh Salad

The truth is I have a brand new blog. I'm not sure why I haven't mentioned it, but today I'm coming clean.

Once a week for a month now I've been sneaking over to SaladDiaries.com and posting recipes and healthy tips and a big bowl of something crunchy and colorful and fresh - mostly vegan but not strictly so, and gluten-free.

It's my readers here who encouraged me to take my food passion and knowledge more seriously. So I'm sharing as I go along, working one dish at a time toward an actual in-your-hands cookbook. Let me know what you think!

Want to give someone you love a healthy, memorable treat?
This might be just the ticket! Only $3.50. Available here.

While I'm at it, I should also confess that I'm revamping my home-base website to better share my artwork and all that I'm doing online and otherwise. There's a gift shop there, and if you're really amped up about salads (like I am) you can get one of my designer gift certificates to give a friend, good for one "huge salad with your favorite dressing."

Okay. I feel better now.

Winning

This weekend was amazing. In spite of today's sonohysterogram looming on the horizon. In spite of the possibility of endometrial cancer, of being told I need a hysterectomy. In spite of being home alone while Jim was away from Friday to Sunday visiting his son in college for parent's weekend. In spite of the disconcerting ache in my uterus, something I've been feeling, come to think of it, for months now. In spite of the questionable blood test, not to be retested for another two weeks, indicating the possibility that all is not right within.

So how is it possible that this weekend was amazing? That I felt mostly calm and good and happy to be alive? I think because I got to be around a bunch of people on Saturday who know how to listen and allow emotion. Because I got to talk to Jim on the phone and enjoy his company as I wound down my evenings. Because on Sunday, I got to celebrate this gorgeous season on a 63-mile bike ride with old and new friends.

Cancer has reenforced for me the reality that, whatever happens in the short-term, the long-term truth remains the same for all of us: our days are limited. Cruelly and tragically and severely limited. When you really grasp that reality, the quibbling over how many days we each are allotted becomes less important. Life is now. And mine is good.

So let's get on with it.

Speaking of which, today's test was uncomfortable, but only mildly so, and quick, less than 10 minutes. And best of all, there was no evidence of cancer, not even a polyp requiring surgical intervention. The thickening that was seen on the original ultrasound is actually taking place underneath the uterine lining and is considered to be "normal cystic changes due to Tamoxifen."

I've been given the green light to keep taking the drug, and I probably will, though that achy feeling is still there, and I do have some questions. So I will take a few days off to consider them.

On October 15th, I'll re-do that slightly irregular blood test, and hopefully all will be well there too.

But as far as today is concerned, the score is Amy: 1, Cancer: 0.