As I am waiting on word and schedules from Denver coordinator, I am in a fog-like state of limbo. I am still researching and still holding out some hope.

Cameron came, the other day, driving his big, red scout across the many miles from Bend, OR., to Montrose. He had brought odds and ends from his former life including his big, brown leather chair/office. It now squats in the living room as a silent reminder of his future presence and changes of things to come. His willingness, kindness to put his future and plans on hold is an amazing gift. Also not lost on all friends who will be involved with  support and with chemo care. (At the same time, I am researching different chemo availability.) Now, he is en route to New York as we will spend Christmas together with my daughter and grand children, all put in place before these changes. I am very much looking forward to a ‘last fling’ before surgery/chemo.

We definitely need someone to help cook.

As I reflect on some of the parallels of last cancer journey to this one, I see many changes in myself. Last time I didn’t know diddly. Although being informed is not a doctor’s dream of a compliant patient. Now we can challenge and argue and ask and suggest, (for all the good it does.)

I’ve been corresponding with a friend from my courthouse days. (Bailiff that I was and loved it immensely). She’s going through cancer as I write. After my dis-enchantment with this oncologist, who in the last 20 min of our meeting talked solely to my friend, Monika and ignored me completely, an attempt of reversed psychology? Once home again and when the smell of the place had dissipated, the more I thought about his manner and behavior toward me, the less I cared for him. This is where my friend comes in as her experience was very similar to mine with same doc.

She is very happy and well cared for by Oncologist in Grand Junction. I shall call and ask to be accepted there as well. Tired, disppointed of these two, here.

One of the things I’d suggested to my friend was to have a visible goal to concentrate on and to look forward. This helps immensely on stronger brain activity, over powering negativity.

When I had cancer 10 yrs ago, I had taped a fold out from a magazine, showing gorgeous pictures of Tuscany, to my entertainment center. When the time was rough from chemo, in between vomiting and general misery, I would look at the pictures and mentally climb the stairs to the tower. There were 52 of them. I would imagine, walking through the colorful market and hear the cries of the vendors, offering their wares.

Three years later, I had the good fortune to go to Germany with my BFF Irene and my son. My cousin, generously loaned us her Lincoln Town car to use. We drove to Switzerland to visit my brother and sister-in-law. He was still Chef owner of this his little Chalet Hotel, Rubschen. We had 3 mavelous days there with the best food. He’s such a gourmet genius.

On we went through Italy. Staying at wondrous places, seeing beautiful, old towns, villages and country side. We came to Lucca (birthplace of Giuseppe Verdi.) The big car could not be driven through the small streets and we parked it outside the city walls. On we walked on cobble stone, narrow roads to the town square. And, there it was… the tower I had seen so many times in a much smaller version. I nearly fell to my knees with the joy of actually being there. Of being alive to see it. The gratefulness I felt was overwhelming. I ran over to see the steps and yes, there were 52 of them. Florence was anticlimactic to Lucca, for me.

Now, once again, I am searching and selecting a goal of a place to tape up, to strive toward.

A few years ago, I was in las Vegas visiting my BFF and we went out on the town. One place had a small, colorful tent with a ‘gypsy’ woman offering to read our future. Full of vim and vinegar the both of us laughed and said ‘oh, why not?’ I take these predictions with a grain of salt. But, a few came true. One thing she said, was that I would live to be 93, after a health challenge. I remembered that, the other day and so I wrote it on a large piece of paper and taped it to my kitchen wall. A visual reminder of what could be possible. In case you shake your head, I will hasten to tell you that I choose to believe this prediction in place of a more dire one a doctor told me, ten years ago. He’d said, that I would only have a 60+ percent chance of survival. Even though, for most cancers, this is a good number, I, who didn’t know diddly at the time, said to him, you don’t even know me. If I turn this number around, it becomes 90+ percent.

Just a matter of engaging different thoughts to take an entirely different course. It’s a choice. YOU can tink yourself better or you can think yorself into a dark place. I want a sunny spot for my future and, have some more moments of joyful recognition when I come upon a chosen place.

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