February 12, 2008
A Dutch proverb says, “As you dance, you may have to pay the piper” (or something near that) and when I danced off to Mexico, I had already considered the possibility of the piper waiting in the wings. I got sick two days after returning, and now, some ten days later, I am still struggling with intestinal upset. A part of me cries out in dismay at the high cost of brief adventure while another part of me encourages those feeble immunities to carry on and restore wellness. There is a great deal of flu in the community also, so it is quite possible that I would be in this population anyway.
Winter, once so white and glittery and decorative on tree and field, has completely lost its charm as single digit temperatures greet each new day. Alphie sits patiently and watches me put on layer after layer of clothing before leaving the house for the morning walk. The cardinals, undoubtedly responding to nature’s trigger of more sunlight, sit on treetops at dawn and sing out their territorial claims even if their sounds are frozen midway between beak and branch. Shortly after, they all return to the plum bushes near the feeders and spend the rest of the day consuming sunflower seeds. I counted twenty pair yesterday afternoon.
A week from today, I return to the oncologist’s office to review the progression of the MDS; considering the scenario of possible difficulties that was given as we departed in November without therapy of any kind, I feel it has been a long stretch of time in which the blessings were heaped up and running over. I have been reading again about the illness, hoping to find new information, however, the Vidaza remains the last big break through. According to what is currently written, the outer edge of life expectancy after a successful treatment with this chemotherapy is 2 1/2 years, and I arrive there in June of this year.
Soon Valentine’s Day will be celebrated, and I did go out to look at cards. Absolutely nothing called out to me as a looked for something for Charles. Even the thought of piling up stacks of chocolates in red satin boxes has not gotten much of a response – in the past, just the sight of a Godiva box could start the saliva, but this year, nothing. Perhaps I will paste a red construction paper heart on a doily and print on it “Be Mine” as a sentimental reenactment of my grade school efforts – I do think it would be nicer than the cards with the black and white images of much older well-wrinkled couples holding hands and beaming on the outside and words about enduring love or just enduring written in red on the inside. Ah well, when I am feeling better, I will set aside this “bah, humbug!” state of mind and we will have a festival of chocolate and a review of great love stories. A soft south wind will commence to blow, the snow will melt, spring will advance, and life will be good.