Dusting off an old friend

I'm not sure why I'm here typing this out right now. Oh, I've contemplated time and again about getting back into the swing of things blogging, but I find that without something of purpose to write about that my life is really no different than any other. I by no means mean to say that if I have a purpose to write about that it makes my life different/better... it just means that I have something to write about I suppose... and so this will go.

I suspect that, by now, the few regulars that used to visit have stopped coming over to see what (if anything) I've written. Why then am I writing at all you ask? (HA! I'm writing as if someone else is actually reading this...) 'Tis a fair question indeed and for the answer, I will draw upon a favorite answer of mine from my youth... I don't know. 

I feel like this will be a Seinfeld post... a post about nothing. They managed a 9 season sitcom... I'm just hoping to make to the end of this blog post… Of course I could just make this the end and say, “There, I made it!”

The last posting here is about Julie and to that end she is doing well. Nothing much has happened since that July posting. I mean the usual stuff happens... food spills, dishes get dirtied, CLOTHES… clothes get dirtied… nothing to write about and certainly nothing worth reading about. Since that posting, we've celebrated 6 birthdays with one coming in May and another today.

Yes, today is Emmah’s… her 17th.

Having just passed the three year mark of her passing, I guess I wanted to say something, but there’s nothing to be said other than reiteration. This is where the train consistently derails. I don’t want to drive anyone reading (if any) away with a steady stream of I miss Emmah. I don’t find it to be an odd position that I miss Emmah, just that I don’t think that I need to be telling everyone that I do, nor so often at that.

So where does that leave me? It leaves me risking redundancy. You can stop now if you like… you've been warned.

So February 10th has come and gone and with it marked three years. I don't remember what it was like being 45 let alone 41 when it all began... I am lucky to remember 10 minutes ago, but I find myself wondering where 6+ years have gone. The four birthdays while she was in treatment and the three since then... the lost years!

It would be hard for me to not mention Emmah in some way but I only have the past to draw upon and I realize at some level that’s been the crux of the creative problem for me… trying to find what I perceive to be a balance, and really, I/we are out of balance. I expect that we will never regain that balance thus ceaselessly listing.

Maybe it's a justification to talk about it, or to vent, in any event I just can't go around talking ad nauseam about it. I'm waiting for a fog to lift that isn't going to lift. Life as I knew it ceased to exist the day we found out and since then it's been all wrong. 

Hitting the end of the road created a loss of control. That loss became a suffocation snatching our breath leaving us gasping asthmatics and our thoughts eroding the spirit of our souls. Time does NOT heal; I miss her just as much today as ever, it only provides the opportunity to figure out how to cope and nothing more! It is the life of what could have been that leaves me in ruins.

To say we miss her is… well… silly and grossly understated. There are no words that distantly begin to describe or explain the emptiness that is left behind; we feel it every single day. It builds starting with the holidays and peaks at this time of the year. It bullies itself to the forefront and becomes the silent elephant in the room casting its shadow over everything… effectively inhibiting the joviality of me writing. So I hope you bear with me a little longer as I lumber on because her absence affects everything.

Being left to speculate on how things would be if Emmah was still here with us is somewhat of a pointless endeavor. Yet in spite of that pointlessness, we still find ourselves playing that game from time to time… especially when we see the successes of her friends. She would be finishing up her junior year. It’s hard to imagine her driving and all the independence that goes along with it. To go beyond where she might be current day seems all the more reason to not speculate because it is a speculation of a speculation. It’s like putting two facing mirrors across from each other in that it’s an ad infinitum distortion of reality.

...And it's only been three years.

Until I am where you are, I will have to say it from here,

Happy Birthday Emmah...I miss you

When is soon?

A short and quick update...

Things are progressing well as Julie's recovery seems to be just moving along.

I mentioned in my previous post that there was no node involvement, that was an initial assessment. We now know for sure as the pathology report came back, so officially there is no node involvement, and there will be no chemo.

One drain came out last Friday (luckily for her the one that was causing the most discomfort) and she is hoping to have the second one taken out very soon. Some sutures were taken out as well with more to come out soon. Overall it doesn't seem to have slowed her down much at all.

This just in... She just got off the phone with the powers that be and she's going in Friday to have the remaining sutures and the last tube taken out... so soon is Friday.

Merging onto the road to recovery

Roads less traveled hold greater unknowns... I mean it's not everyday that one has to be placed on the road called recovery. If allowed to paint any picture we could on the canvas we call life and have every aspect of it come true, I dare say that no one would paint something that would force them to have to recover... and drinking doesn't count!

Of course painting that picture after being told that you will be forced into taking a detour on to said recovery road leaves you a little more careful with your brush strokes. That all being said, today's news was one might say is a picture worth framing. We know all too well that this war is far from over, but winning battles give the best chance to win the war and today a battle was won. Don't know if we could have asked for a better result for today.

Surgery went as expected (always good to have it go as expected... means no surprises) Had clean margins and potentially the best news of the day (and to this point since diagnosis) is no nodal involvement!

So it's on to complete recovery and reconstruction... of which some ground work has been started.

Their intention is to get her up and moving tomorrow, including a shower. She will also have a more comprehensive post op consult along with what limitations will be place on her as she heals. The plan is to get her up and out of bed and moving and home.

Not much else to report at this time.

Peace all  

I'm a time watcher..

I'm a time watcher, watchin' time go by my my my...

I see by the time posted here on my computer as I start tapping away (and should be sleeping) that in about three hours Julie's will be given a rather early (and potentially) rude awakening... the rudeness not stemming from the person bringing the ringing... just merely the reason behind the said 4am ringing.

It will be the start of what will be in some ways has been a long awaited day as well as a day that could be (for other reasons entirely) easily shelved and left to collect dust.

And so here we are...

Julie might bristle a bit with divulging some of this information, but... hmmm... well perhaps I should go this way with it and let you connect the dot(s) here. In order to know lymph-node activity/involvement there will have to be an injection of a dye, or type of tracer. This injection will be going into a rather sensitive area of an already sensitive area...think of the Target logo and hit the bulls-eye and THAT is where the dye will be starting its trek. Oh... and just some numbing cream and ice before needle hits skin, thus the aforementioned rudness.

The surgery is scheduled for 7am and Julie was told that it will/should be about 3 1/2 hours. By the time she should be coming around it should be lunch time.  

A thousand mile journey begins with one step and this is a multi-phase endeavor that, once healing and reconstructing are accounted for, is ultimately going to take some time off the clock. With courage, perseverance and let's not forget some good luck (felt compelled to put good in there because simply put we have luck, most of it just seems to be more of the bad sort) this will amount to nothing more than a bone jarring pothole in the road. That is to say when initially you see that there is to be no avoidance, you brace yourself for the impact, impact is made, that telltale thunk clunk along with that simultaneous jolt happens. Then it's passed and is behind you in the mirror. The further one rolls away, the smaller it gets in the mirror until eventually it's gone from sight. Not out of mind, but out of sight. 


Bracing for each phase's pothole (or potholes) will be necessary, but knowing that as long as we keep rolling along, it will ultimately disappear from view and we will arrive where we want to be. 


Send good vibrations to Julie and to all that will be involved in this procedure along with a sure and steady surgeon's hand.