Ah well, I thought I was done with her. After completeing all the prescribed treatments and therapies my esteemed Dr declared me cured. Cured? But what if...he insists it is not going to return, but...what if. It is a special cancer, one that does not travel through the body until it has developed into a later more aggressive stage. Mine was stage I, the very best kind....hmmmm. I thanked esteemed Dr for trying to kill me and he laughed and stated "it was'ent me it was my friends", OK then your little friends tried to kill me - he remains guilty by association. I'm still working on forgiving these people who did everything they could to save my life and in fact treated me with kindness and respect. The aftermath of cancer treatment can leave you feeling violated and emotionally spent. It is the final stage of recovery, after pushing yourself through your treatments, followed by the giddy joy of compleating said treatments there is the emotional fall-out to deal with. I have managed to spend much of the last month with daily crying jags (weeping sounds so much more lady-like) which sometimes can span three hours. My eyes are perpetually puffy and I'm truely sick of myself. My close friends and family are concerned and worried and I feel even worse because they have already spent to much time fussing over me. So I've decided to seek help, and it is a relief to have made that decision.
Enough whining. I readily acknowledge my blessings. I am well on the way to physical recovery, darling daughter became engaged to her Marine, my eldest son seems well and happy working on his plays in NY, and my younger son is soon to return from Iraq. My husband and I leave very soon for our delayed trip to England - I am more excited about this trip then any we have taken in the past. I love England and when there feel so much at home. We have many adventures planned including a bit of geneology research in Cornwall, a play in London, a haunted castle in Wales (don't know about that one), a quest to find King Auther's castle, Buckingham Place to see the dress, Cluckingham Place to see Wendy's chickens and bunnies, a shopping morning at Portobello Market and a day long class for me in Cornwall on decorative painting and faux finishing.
When we return we plung into wedding plans and our son's return. Virginia will be well into fall and the air will be cool and crisp. Gardens can be restored, the house needs to be buffed up for all the parties we are planning and the holidays will be upon us. So many pleasant and happy things to look forward to. In the movie "The Help", Skeeter's mother who is suffering from cancer urges her daughter to accept an offer from a magazine in NY, telling Skeeter "I've decided not to die", well I've decided to get the hell over this as well. Note to self: Call the doctor on Tues - get some help, get over it. Note to dear friends and family: I release you, you have done enough. Love M
