Late tomorrow, on an overnight fight from Dublin, Ahmed will come home in time to talk to my oncologist about how we will face the next battle. The cancer in my jaw/salivary gland has had a regional recurrence… which I was warned about. So if I have seemed manic for the past few days… well, I’ve been manic.
I did not think I would be alive after this winter. That battle started last summer, gave me only the briefest break in the fall, and dominated the cold months. My lungs, which had done SO WELL on my newest experimental sojourn, are feeling it. I spent the harshest winter in memory bald, sick, and overworked so badly I almost succumbed.
Almost. I don’t believe angels kept me here. I swear I think Ahmed stood over me like a force of preternatural defiance and beat back Azrael with his will.
I wouldn’t mess with him, either. :)
So for the next few weeks… again… no deadlines, workshops, or anything else. I’m taking a break from everything but my family responsibilities (because I have no second string), and focusing on another round of “kiss my ass, I’m not going.” I have two weddings and a convention I REFUSE to give up this summer, and I’ll be at all three, rocking wigs to keep the sun off my head, and trying not to look like a skeleton.
Buy stock in crackers and wig adhesive.