BREATHE (2 a.m.)

I actually came to bed four hours ago. It is now 2 a.m. and I am wide awake if you can call it that. The alarm is set for 7 a.m. giving me plenty of time to get ready for my oncology appointment. It feels like this is all I have, for now, writing-wise.

I feel as if I can’t move like if I just turn over, I’ll break. RG is down in front of the television, which is just as well since I’ll probably just toss and turn all night. He asked me if I wanted to still go to my appointment or if I wanted to re-schedule. I actually considered it for a while then figured that I might as well get this over with.

There is such a thing as not wanting to know and I so get that, but I have other major health issues to deal with so maybe it’s best to just go in. Just bite that bullet, so to speak.

It plays like a tennis match in my head. Back and forth over an imaginary net in my mind: I don’t want to know; I need to know; I don’t, I do…Help me Lord.

The one thing that is already freaking me out is the fact that I almost passed out the last time I had to give a blood sample in this very clinic. It was moments before I was officially diagnosed with CLL (a rare form of leukemia).

This song, BREATHE (2 a.m.) has helped me make it through many sleepless nights. Here’s hoping Anna can soothe me to sleep, once again…

 

 

 

 

CLOSE MY EYES

To understand this, you have to really know me.

It’s been a long and rainy two weeks. This is one of the reasons I moved to the desert southwest and why I would never live in places like Seattle: Too much rain, doom, and gloom.

Yet, here I am in the midst of all the gloom, but here is also where my doctors are. Can’t have it all, as the saying goes. In life, it is all about choices. Choices and change.

I see the oncologist this week….

Enough said.

 

 

 

 

NO FEAR

 

These are common sights that can put the fear of GOD into anyone, especially children. I am looking at these pictures from last fall and it feels like I have a million butterflies in my gut.

I am going back after five months in the desert, our winter home this year. It’s a total of 3,400 miles roundtrip. I leave in two days and am full of dread.

So far I know I will have blood draws and ultrasounds right away. Sometimes the not knowing is better than to know.

In 7 days and 1,700 plus miles, I will be ‘home.’

I already can’t wait until next fall when I’m back on the road, heading south to avoid the long, cold and wet winter.

Until then, what gets anyone through this is love, hope, and laughter.

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