One of the things that makes our travel blog special is we do it daily when on the road. We go to great lengths to find internet access, fight the latency, get a picture uploaded (like the one from Jerusalem, left,) and eeek out a post under dying battery power every 24 hours of travel.
It lets people follow us and, maybe if we do it well, they feel like they are along for the ride. Best of all, we get a more accurate memory of the experience to keep. Memories dissapear soooo quickly, jeeez.
As I’ve shared before, I started the cancer blog because I wanted to make our experience with Trish like a travel adventure. Blogging it seemed natural. But daily posts isn’t appealing for a six month cancer blog, so I settled on a weekly edition.
I’ve mostly kept up, better than I expected to. But it’s toward the end and I’m quite behind. So in this penultimate issue, I am doing three weeks all at once to catch up.
You’re smarter than that, so I won’t lie to you.
You are definitely getting ripped off here. This issue of the blog is totally not worth what you paid for it and you should complain to management.
(Management, pictured right, has an official response: STFU)
What’s one more month?
One thing that has made this cancer experience a little different than the ‘typical’ breast cancer experience is that Trish was asked to carry the cancer in her body for six months. There were good medical reasons for this, but it doesn’t happen often. Doctors were concerned about the size of the lump and wanted to make the mastectomy easier. So, they scheduled chemotherapy first, and do the surgery last.
But the psychological burden was a thousand times more difficult this way. Every time Trish looked in the mirror, the lump, which was visible to the naked eye, would stare back at her. Her body was a battleground between the lump and the chemo for six months and she knew it.
Even more important, we would know. We would know what the deal is. Will our family have a wife and mom in a few years? Waiting another month to find that out is agonizing.
Cancerpalooza in Purgatory
So, no, it’s not just another month to wait. Aside from the early shock and worry, these are the hardest days of the whole saga. At least the chemotherapy at least gave us something to tackle, a problem to solve, a cause to fight.
This is purgatory, even though things look okay from the outside. Trish gets better each day as the chemo wears off. Her hair begins tome come back in patchy bits. School is in full swing and my work life is busy as ever. Trish even gets back to work a little bit. Things appear to be returning to ‘normal’.
But they aren’t. We’re awaiting the judgement. So only thing to do is re-start cancerpalooza and extend this adventure.
Do you like the Mid-atlantic?
But it’s not the richest area for natural beauty, let’s be honest. It’s just nice. There isn’t much visual drama unless you count West Virginia or upper New York State, which is a stretch. And, yeah the Cheasapeake is a cool ecosystem, but hard to appreciate at a human scale.
The worst is that the most beautiful resource, the mid-atlantic beaches are overgrown and cheesy, better fodder for MTV contempt, than wonder and excitement.
On it’s narrow strip of sand are clean beaches, salt marshes, dunes and thin pine forests. It’s got tons of birds, having originally been created as an avian migratory refuge.
And the ponies. The ponies are amazing. The island is populated by a now wild bunch of (originally) domesticated horses that are reputed to have been the only survivors of a Spanish Galleon shipwreck off the coast here. They roam freely and can be aggressive, having no fears of humans.
Reserve ahead, especially in May and October, when the mosquitos are gone.
Continued, so read on!