Passing time

Rosemary says "It's time to get up."

Oh, this Rosemary is quite a cat. She has me, hook, line, and sinker.

I seem to have been missing again—I'm sorry. The past few months have been so busy, so full of work and knitting and new adventures and yes, a few challenges.

In knitting, there was Rhinebeck—a weekend of new traditions for Rebecca and me, since Rachel and Judy couldn't be there. We had some fun anyway.

Coffee at Gigi's

The beautiful gardens at Bard College

There was the Knitter's Review Retreat, my annual dose of knitter love. It has to last the year.

Inn on the Lake, Canandaigua, NY

And then... there came The Great White Bale. I'll have to write later about the loveliness that is my job as Clara Parkes' Director of Customer Happiness, but let's just say I'm having the time of my life.

And those challenges—well, they're the kind you just rise to meet. My visits to Dr. Pearl continue to be happy ones, although I'm in need of surgery to deal with some scar tissue, and it's scheduled for mid-February. I'll keep you posted.

It's a process

Today is the fourth anniversary of my surgery, the day I began many long months of recovery and treatment and recovery from treatment. Coincidentally, it's also National Cancer Survivors Day. I've been a bit stubborn about adopting the "survivor" label, but I think it's time. I don't have cancer any more.

It's a process. Cancer is a process. Treatment is a process. Healing is a process. Surviving is a process. The process has been hard on me these past few months, harder than I thought it would be by now. I needed to remember that it's different for everyone, that we're all on our own timeline. I needed to stop and rest, stop plowing ahead.

It took a while for me to realize that for me, healing and surviving isn't simple. It's hard work. Careful management of my lymphedema, the leftover effects from chemotherapy, a seismic shift at my job, and losing my mother — my plate is full. I've been working on it. It's a good process.

So, today is the fourth anniversary of my surgery... I'm looking back, but I'm right here. I'm trying to be right here.

Peace Love & Yarn Bluebird BFL Sock Yarn (Thank you Liz!)

Drifting back

I'm still here!

Nothing monumental has kept me away from the blog. I drifted away; I don't know what else to call it. I've heard from many friends — little notes with worry attached to them, hesitant questions about my absence and my health — and I want to tell you all how dear you are, and how sorry I am to have concerned you.

I'm also a little sorry that lately most of my (spotty) contact with my friends and my family has been through Facebook, because not everyone uses it, and it certainly doesn't replace the blog, or an email, or a call. I want to remedy that.

My life has been occupied with realities, and I suppose they have been enough to have changed my focus and drawn me away from the small bits of writing that I've always done, both here and privately.

My health has been one reality — but it's "just" the chronic lymphedema that is one of the souvenirs of my cancer treatment (my lymphatic system in my legs doesn't function properly any more). I spent a couple of months going for treatment at a Wound Care Center for an infection in one leg, then at Christmas I developed another infection in my other leg. I've made progress, but still, I have to learn how to live with and manage this condition, because I can't function when it's taking over my daily life. That, and I'd like to be able to take a walk.

Another reality — which I've spoken of on Facebook — is that my dear cat Annabelle is seriously ill. At Thanksgiving the vet diagnosed an inoperable tumor in her small intestine, and since then I've been giving and getting all the love I can, and waiting for the time when her little self lets me know she needs to leave. Right this minute, she's purring in her usual place, under the lamp on my desk. She spends her days eating a little, sleeping a lot, and reminding me that she's in charge around here. I'm going to miss her so.

Since having to spend so much time with my feet up, I've been doing a lot of knitting. I made some beautiful Christmas gifts, but did I photograph them? Of course not! There was: a Porom tam in Foxfire Fibers Cormo/Silk/Alpaca, a Honey Cowl in Sundara DK, two Hydrangea Neckwarmers in Spirit Trail Berte and Foxfire Cormo/Silk/Alpaca, a pair of Foxglove mitts in Berrocco Blackstone Tweed, and some silly coffee cup cozies for my coworkers in miscellaneous leftover yarns. I did take a picture of the sock yarn /lavender sachets, though.

So here I am. It's a new year, and the days are already growing longer. I hope I can be present here more often. I've missed it, and I've missed you. ♥

Souvenirs and a celebration

It’s been a year, one whole year since my last chemotherapy treatment. Since any treatment for endometrial cancer. A year since my goal was to make it through the day a step at a time. One year of No Cancer!

This first anniversary weaves itself in and out of my days. I remember what a struggle it was to do anything, from getting out of bed, to doing my job, to knitting. I smile when I think about all the love and care that came from my family and friends, and of all those people I don’t know in real life, too, like some of you. I can still taste saline and heparin and taxol if I think about it. 

I can’t help but stop and think about what I was doing, where I was, how I felt at this moment, or on that day a year ago, or a year and a half. And I think about it this way: I’m proud of myself. I worked hard. I tried to be honest. I hope I became wiser. I wanted to find myself here right now, recovering and happy, and I did.

There are remnants and reminders of the journey -- souvenirs, as a dear friend put it. A little blurred vision, still tender lungs, a slightly less efficient heart, swelling in my legs, numbness in my toes. Souvenirs, including the one inch scar where my port was, which reminds me every day that I set my whole body and mind on reaching the land of No Cancer. I accept them, because I arrived.

But now it's time to celebrate! On Thursday I shared the evening with some of the women who spent so many hours with me while I had chemo. I loved seeing all of them together, around a table piled with delicious food. We toasted me, we toasted Dr. Pearl. If you know me you'll think I spent the evening in tears, but I didn't. We laughed and I smiled, and it was the best way to celebrate the year!

I want to make my anniversary last, so I have an idea. We all have anniversaries -- days or moments we remember, that we look to to help us mark time. Leave a comment, and tell me about an anniversary that you celebrate, big or small. I want to know what makes it special and memorable. 

For every comment on this post between now and my birthday on April 28th, I'll make a donation to the Gynecologic Cancer Foundation. It's a wonderful organization that supports research and promotes public awareness of gynecologic cancers, and it's been invaluable to me since my diagnosis. Its Women's Cancer Network was the first website I visited that helped me make sense of what was happening to me. With your help, I want to do more for them.

There's more, because I want to spread my happiness around a little. At the end of the month I'll do the random number thing and somebody will win a prize! If the winner is a knitter, there will be yarn. If not, there will be a book.

So what do you say -- want to play along? I hope so!