One year ago today ...

I was diagnosed with cancer. I didn't have a clue and even when they told me, I didn't quite believe it. I was certain it was a mistake. However, I was wrong and for the last year I've been poked, prodded, pricked, sliced, pumped full of poison, and zapped. I thought I would never feel good again. So it was with great trepidation that I embarked on a journey to New Orleans last week. It was primarily business, but I wanted to see the city as well, and I didn't know if I would be able to walk, stand, carry and all the other activities that go along with being away from home.

But I made it. I trudged through the French Quater and enjoyed the sights and sounds and especially the tastes of New Orleans. I ate crawfish, gumbo, red beans, beignets and three different kinds of bread pudding. Oh yeah, and I presented at a conference and did other work as well. The last night there I treated myself to a nice dinner and then walked to Bourbon street and listened to jazz and zydeco, just happy to sit and drink in the music. Eventually I went back to my hotel and there he was, waiting for me, just as he had been there for me through this whole ordeal. Yes, folks Everybody Loves Raymond was playing on the tube.

It seemed appropriate that the one year anniversary of my diagnosis was celebrated doing the things I most enjoy doing, seeing new sites, eating great food, listening to live music, and watching Raymond. I am still figuring out where my life is heading and learning to live with the fear that tinges the lives of all cancer survivors:"will it come back?" But this week I finally believed that I had come back from wherever this illness had taken me. I am still facing physical and mental challenges, but even if I'd never gotten sick I would be facing challenges.

I did finish my PhD and then I got cancer, but now the cancer is gone and I'm ready to start my next adventure. I'm ready to start living. I'm ready to get my eyebrows tattooed.

Leaving the House

For a long time, I didn't want to leave the house. I'd climb in bed with a mystery novel, flick the TV on to "Everybody Loves Raymond" and stay there until it was time to get up and go to work. But then one day, I decided it was no longer acceptable to lounge around, I was well, or at least they said I was. So when friends called and made plans I felt obligated to accept. Slowly, I began to have a social life again and frankly, I didn't like it. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to read, I wanted to hide in my room. My room had been my womb, for well, actually about 9 months. It was time to emerge.

A few weeks ago I realized something. Going out was not the chore it used to be. I looked forward to movies, concerts, monster truck rallies (OK maybe not the last one), and other activities. About a month ago, I agreed to attend two concerts this weekend. I really didn't want to go to two concerts, I barely wanted to go to one, but it was all part of my plan to get out and about. When the weekend came, not only did I not dread the events, I looked forward to going. I even had a good time. Who would guess?

I was so pumped that I thought this week, I would even stand during the appropriate places in church. First there was the entrance, and I stood. Then came the reading of the decalogue, and I stood. After a short break came the reading of the gospel, I prepared to stand, and then I looked at the leaflet, instead of the usual 10 or 12 verses, there were 41 verses from the book of John. I think God was telling me to take it easy, you're not there yet. So I sat back in the pew and rejoiced that I have come so far, and accepted that I'm not quite there yet.

Next week, I'll be in the Big Easy and though I'm a little nervous about how well I'll do, I am confident and hopeful because if I can make it there, then I can make it any ... oh wait, that's the Big Apple. Never mind.