We left at 5 something in the AM on Wednesday for our holiday fiestas.  We have the usual stops for bladder relief and coffee/tea.  At our second stop about 3 hours from home, we pulled into the parking space that a very salty car vacated in the crowded parking lot.  One of the kids said “Hey, look who’s next to us!”.  Our neighbors and friends (my walking partner D and her family) spent the night 3 hours from home and had just started their trek south.  It blew our minds!  We arrived at a rather unfriendly and crowded roadstop and were greeted by warm and loving hugs, laughter, and OMG’s.  The mighty leaf organic breakfast tea never tasted so comforting.  

A bit further down the road I saw a billboard.  It was pink and the woman was saying  “I never gave up.”

Traveling went well.  I was really into the music I was listening to and was almost over the top happy on the road. (Sometimes it’s a little much for my family when I’m like this, I must admit.)  We pulled into our destination (a warm home to ourselves, vacated by our kind Aunt who was on her own adventure) and were followed into the driveway by a delivery of a fruit bouquet from a childhood friend and her family. 

I am so glad we took the plunge and went down for a few days.  The timing at the start of our trip was so cool.   I am feeling well and am SO grateful for that.  OK, my skin is a little dryer than dry, my nasal passages are winning the Sahara Desert Award and my family says that Taxol makes me act like I have Attention Deficit Disorder.   I don’t really suffer with the ADD thing because it seems to just be an enhancement of my usual from inside my own body.  The dryness, well, it is soothed by things like good skin cream and steamy showers.  I’m not really sure how others feel about the Taxol effects but it seems tolerable.

Seeing Mom, all of my brothers and sisters in law, most of our nieces and nephews including some of the canines, some of our cousins and their children, other relatives and friends was wonderful.  The love was a little more intense (if that’s possible).  There was something slower about my interactions with everyone, a longer glance, a squeeze at the end, long cheek to cheek hugs, talking in whispers.  I was accused of being like our kat Guiseppi who just gets right into head scratching as I leaned into anyone who was rubbing my head.

I was struck by many things.  When I saw Mom for the first time, I had my cotton hat and my hat with the bells on and she said “Let me see you!”.  I took one layer off and she said “What’s with all the hats?”.  I took the other off and said that I had to do something to keep warm.  She said “Why did they cut off your hair?”  As we were hugging and I explained what chemo does, she looked at me with her failing eyes and said “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” 

I was struck by the two children (ranging in age from about 8 to about 12) who asked me how I was doing.  Each of them found me at a quiet moment and sat or stood next to me at the Christmas Eve party.  The youngest one said “I am so sad that you have cancer.  One of the teachers at my school had cancer and died.  I don’t want that to happen to you.”  She told me that when her hair was out of the pony tail that it came down to her waist and asked if my hair would grow back.  Her sister found me just before the CRAZY gift swap.  “How are you Aunt P?”, and she put her hand on my shoulder.  The sincerity in her eyes and the way she tilted her head took my breath away.

I was struck by the optimism and open heart of another who is dealing with his own cancer.  So up beat, so in the NOW.  Seeing he and his family was wonderful. 

I was struck by the love.  It was everywhere.  It was between our children.  It was in our quiet Christmas morning, just the 4 of us…It was in the food we prepared, the food we ate, the laughter.  It was in the air.  It was intoxicating everywhere I went.   B’s glances, arm around my shoulder, touch as he passed by, warm hand on my cold head, reminded my why I said “I do”.

I was struck by the conversations.  I was GRATEFUL that conversations were not only about cancer.  In fact, most of them were not.  I am grateful to have seen my loved ones, and that they got to see me and my family. 

Breast cancer did not make me feel sick…not at all.  The treatments made me feel sick temporarily, the surgery made me feel sore temporarily.  I don’t feel sick  right now.  The images we create of someone going through this must be tainted with fear and unknown because the common statement that I heard over and over was “You look terrific!”.  I was with people who have known me forever.  I know it was not my outfit or doo rag that they were seeing.  It was my energy, the color of my skin, my eyes and smile.  It was my posture and attitude and humor.  They were finally able to see me without the breast cancer filter that distance creates, if that makes sense.  I was just and still me.

Today it’s pouring in our neck of the woods.  We are nesting after days away.  We are preparing for the kids to have a week off, and for B and I to attempt getting them where they’d like to be, getting us to work and dealing with cycle 4 which starts tomorrow.