Three months is a long time. A long time in any life, practically a season, and a long time to be away from this space. I didn't really go anywhere, but I feel like I've been on a long journey.
Just after I posted the last time, I was told that I needed more chemotherapy. Three more rounds, to see if we could improve the results. That I needed the extra treatments at all was hard news -- hadn't I already done everything humanly possible? -- but the treatments themselves seemed to take everything out of me. I thought I'd gotten away without experiencing really severe fatigue, but there I was, having to go back to bed after doing something as simple as making a cup of tea. I went to work, barely, and the stairs up to my apartment became my one goal for the day -- could I climb Mt. Everest one more time?
But look, here I am, living to tell the tale. I did it. I got the good news about my latest scans on my birthday, and I celebrated by going to the ocean. I had to stay up on the dune because the sand was just too soft to navigate, but I went there, and I had a good cry and a nice time.
I've been told that I'm brave and strong, and I suppose I might be. But every person who does this, this chemotherapy and cancer treatment, is extraordinary. It’s done quietly, somewhere, every day, by brave people who want to live. I am honored to be in such good company!
~:~
My knitting has suffered quite a bit these past few months. It seems that I did get a burst of energy at one point, because I spun up some Foxfire Cormo/Silk roving.
I cast on this little scarf in the middle of March, and worked on it while I was being pumped with toxic chemicals. Before long I had a nice warm springtime scarf, which I wore a lot, since our spring is notoriously slow to show herself.
Other than this one little bit, no knitting has been seen in my hands for a long time. I'm still surrounded by it -- just the other day I shook the dust off the beginnings of a nice shawl -- but I haven't been inspired to knit. I think that will change soon. My energy is returning, slowly but steadily, and my brain is clearing, along with the blurry vision that was a temporary side effect of one of the chemo drugs.
I'm sure I'll get back to knitting before long -- and back to many other things, as well!
7:30pm Edited to add: I just got home from my b'day dinner at Judy's house, where what we were really celebrating was that I can look forward to more birthdays. I think it's beginning to sink in...
My Hand
See how the past is not finished
here in the present
it is awake the whole time
never waiting
it is my hand now but not what I held
it is not my hand but what I held
it is what I remember
but it never seems quite the same
no one else remembers it
a house long gone into air
the flutter of tires over a brick road
cool light in a vanished bedroom
the flash of the oriole
between one life and another
the river a child watched
W. S. Merwin
The Shadow of Sirius
Thank you, Reya!
Well. This sure has been interesting! Several things worth thinking about have emerged from my Blog of Note experience.
- There really are levels and adjoining circles on the internet, and I suspect that most of us travel in pretty small circles, relatively speaking. I've been so used to a readership of mostly knitters that my new, wider circle is still a surprise.
- Well-wishes and encouragement from total strangers, sometimes even delivered in a language I don't speak, are very nice. Very nice indeed.
- I've never discouraged Anonymous comments, until now. I had to turn them off after I was bombarded with spam. Some people have too much time on their hands.
- My advice to anyone who is named a Blog of Note? Take cover till it's mostly over, then read all the comments and enjoy the rest of the ride.
Now to the knitting. Here is my Whimsy Lace Scarf --
I haven't spent much time with it lately, but I plan to remedy that. It takes about 15 minutes to do a repeat, and I've memorized the procedure, so it's not that hard to make progress. The top portion, in garter stitch, forms the neck or collar. The ruffles cascade around the shoulders. 
This is the leg of a sock. It's the tried-and-true no-brain-required Blueberry Waffle pattern, in Sundara's Deadly Nightshade (I think this is a Seasons Collection color). Pardon the cat hair. I'm almost halfway finished with the second sock, and I hope I can make some progress on it, too. One of the more annoying side effects of chemotherapy is neuropathy in my fingers. Lucky for me, mine isn't too bad (and it should go away), but it does slow me down!My real problem with what I'm knitting is that I want to start a new pair of socks. I'm itching to cast on. I have delightful yarn that's waiting for me, but these two are just as delightful, and they're already on their way to being done. Can I resist, at least until I finish the socks? Probably not.Our weather has finally improved a little -- the weekend has been sunny and not too cold, so my grey mood is gone. It was too windy to visit the bay yesterday. It would have been nice to get a closer look at all the ice chunks that have pushed up against the shoreline. They take such interesting shapes. I hope that February lets me get out into the world a little more!I'll be back tomorrow with my poem for this year's (Silent) Poetry Reading. This is one of my all-time favorite blog events.
By the way, today is Pajama Day. I'm in!
What a surprise, finding myself a Blogger Blog of Note today! I'm honored, but slightly uncomfortable. Yes, this is a public space, and yes, many anonymous readers stop by ... but somehow, anyway, right now, I feel a little exposed.
You see, I think of myself as a knitblogger. I'm part of a large and wonderful community of people who share my passion, and I'm blessed to have made many friends, both real and virtual, in this relatively small corner of the big old internet. But here, today, the doors have been flung wide open!
My blog and my life seem to be defined by what is going on right now -- cancer treatment and navigating the strange terrain of it, and getting on with it -- but when I seek to define myself cancer isn't at the top of the list.
So: I'm a knitter. I'm a spinner. I've made many pairs of socks, and whatever else that has inspired me. I love yarn. I design knitting patterns once in a while. I'm a bookseller, too. I live with that cat, in a little apartment near the Atlantic Ocean. I go to the water as often as I can, to refill and be and look out at the horizon. I'm a middle child. Sure, I have cancer. I also have a good life that's on the way to getting better.
There. I feel better now. Welcome everyone!
