Either…

Either Xeloda isn’t nearly as tough on the system as the IV chemotherapy was, or I’m a whole lot stronger this time around.  I am admittedly tired, but I feel realllllly good.  And strong.  And still up, working, at 10 p.m.

I’m pretty proud of the work too.  Check out what I’ve been doing over at Women in Planetary Science if you’ve got a sec …. we had a great feature on a science blogger who I think is amazingly cool, and we’re continuing to feature interviews with two women a week who are working in the field of planetary science, on missions, as professors, at observatories … it’s always something new!

A beautiful day for a …

… wedding.  Birthday.  And maybe some time to write.

My only brother is getting married today.  John is marrying Anna, and it will be a beautiful outdoor wedding with friends and family in a beautiful space just before sunset in the town where they live.  The bride and groom will say “I do” and dance until midnight, with their groomsmen and bridesmaids and many of their closest friends and family surrounding them with love as they take this next step in their life.  Their parents will be there to support them and affirm them in their decision to marry.

I will not be there.  Although I am DELIGHTED and thrilled that they will be married, as much as it pains me to admit this, I will not be at my brother’s wedding, because I’m not allowed to travel during this first cycle of Chemo 2010.  Xeloda’s effects are not as predictable as other chemos (primarily because most of the other chemos are wicked tough on the body; the first two knocked me out pretty quickly in 2007); they depend a lot on how the medicine interacts with the body.  Since my body has never had Xeloda, my oncologist insisted that I stay close to home — close to her — for this first cycle of chemotherapy, and I was not allowed to travel. 

It’s breaking my heart not to be there with them today, and yet it wasn’t even a choice that could be made.  Since my recurrence was diagnosed in March, I’ve known that flying 3000 miles and then driving to attend this wedding would probably not be possible.  I held out hope, but when my oncologist said “No,” that was that.  The wedding will occur, we have wished them well, and when we all wake up tomorrow, they will be married

and we will be here at home.

We did celebrate today, not only calling the folks across the country to wish them well, but also with my oldest son, who turned the big SIX today.  We pulled together a (very) small celebration, and made little choices into Big Deals, and he has felt thoroughly loved and spoiled rotten today, just as a new SIX should be.  We celebrated with pizza and games and friends and our little family, and he was so happy.  He ends the day with good memories, new lego toys, new star wars toys, phineas and ferb playthings, a new book, and two new games that we can all play together.  He even has his very first chemistry kit (thanks to his cousins!), and all of us are pretty excited about playing with that.  We had a wonderful day, and I hope to write more about it tomorrow.

But for now, I close this day thinking about John and Anna and how they are starting a new life together, about how Widget stands at the gate of a new life, a life called Kindergarten, and about how Little Bear will love his teachers this Fall too, and how everyone is growing up.

Even me.  For as they all grow up and move on to the next step, so shall I.  I’m signing a new NASA contract this week, and I have work that will take me through the next few months.  I’m healthy enough to do it and to enjoy it, and I am all kinds of happy over the work that is to come.

I told the Women in Planetary Science in an email yesterday that September 1 was a new beginning, not just for academics, but for so many of us with even tenuous connections to the school year, and I, for one, am looking forward to it.

Congratulations, John and Anna, on the beginning of your new life together.  And to all of us, for whatever September and the future may bring.

In the Journal

… not the Wall Street Journal, the Astrophysical Journal, or even the journal of Space Policy this month (oh, wait, that’s not right.  My most recent paper IS in Space Policy this month!), but in fact Toddler Planet is featured in Ladies’ Home Journal today!  Interesting, eh?  I’m on page 8 of their slideshow of blogging moms – right after Dooce.

Wild.

Where’s the tree?

Two weeks ago Thursday, a sudden storm whipped through our neighborhood and tore off the top of our (at least) sixty-year-old maple that centered our backyard.

That shaded the children’s play.

That cradled our picnic blanket where many, many sandwiches and baby carrots were consumed through the years.

That cooled the yard so I could lay in the hammock with my babies when they were small and I was sick.

That lifted the swing into the air as we laughed and laughed, months and years later, when they were big enough to push the swing and I was well.

That I thought my children would grow up with, anchored by, and escape to when they needed time alone as they grew up.

But instead, the storm topped it, and the top third of the tree landed twenty feet away, facing the opposite direction.  The yard was littered with branches, and the sky — well, we could see the sky, through the giant gaps where the top branches once spread their leafy boughs.  The tree men walked away from our house that night exhausted, but with a big check, because the old maple was not only topped, but rotten inside, and we were very lucky that the tree hadn’t landed twenty feet in the other direction, on our house.

The tree guys had just spent the morning pulling a big old oak off a little girl’s bedroom, and although we were so sad about losing our tree, ohmygoodness, are we happy indeed that we all escaped without injury (and that the little girl was okay too).   

All of us walked away happy — the kids because they got to watch the tree men work from the window (yay!), my husband and I because we were all safe (and we’ll get to plant our garden again now that the sun’s rays will warm the ground), and the tree men because they got a bit of work in and made the right recommendation as well.  All of us were happy — that is, except the squirrels.

A black squirrel walked up to the french doors yesterday, hopped up on the step, and put his little paw on the door, and looked right at him.  He cocked his head, and my husband swears he could almost hear the squirrel say, “Where’s the tree?  What happened to my tree?”

This guy seems similarly confused:

He sat there for the longest time, trying to fathom what had happened, trying to adjust to the change.

…

Day 3, Chemo 2010: I’m okay.  No vomiting still.  No sores yet on my hands or feet.  My gut is a bit wrecked today, but that could have been last night’s pizza.  (Shh.  Don’t tell my lymphedema therapist.  I’m supposed to be giving up breads and pasta, to reduce the inflammation in my arms and hand.)  I’m tired, but when am I not?  So far, so good!  YAY!