White cell counts still low

September 13, 2011

… so I had to cancel on bookclub tonight.  Wah.

I’ve been really upset about it the last few hours, but ya know?  My friend Sarah would have given anything to spend an evening at home with her family.  So I did.

Hope you have as nice an evening as I did, and that you get hugs goodnight.



May 18, 2011

It’s just hair, right?

Except it’s not, and anyone who’s been through cancer or alopecia knows that. 

Mine is falling out, rapidly thinning enough that I have to twist the ponytail wrap four or five times instead of three, and that my hands come away covered with hair when I shampoo.  I’m not balding, it won’t go all the way away, because I’m not on chemo right now, but it’s undeniably freaking me out because of the association.

And the construction guys are working TODAY on my little therapy pool in my backyard, and I want to have it shorter anyway so I can hop IN at any given moment without worrying about blowdrying it out afterwards. 

Susan Niebur LPSCMy hair is slightly longer now than it was in this picture in March (aren’t these BEAUTIFUL flowers?  Someone (I assume my friends from Women in Planetary Science?) sent them to me at my planetary science conference in March, with the words “Thank you for all you do — from Planetary Scientists everywhere.) HOW SWEET.).

So, the question of the day is, HOW SHORT SHOULD I GO?

What’s in style for short hair?  What would you tell the salon? 

Let’s have some fun with this!


April 26, 2011

Dandelion, taken by Louise DockerAs we set off on our early morning walk, Little Bear scooting along on his tricycle and 6 year old Widget on his bike, the sky was blue and clear, the weekend’s rainclouds just a memory.

Four year old Little Bear stopped and plucked a dandelion in full feather, saying, “I wish for a dog!” “Me too,” cried his brother. Me three, I said, and we blew the fluff right off that dandelion so enthusiastically that a seed or two landed in Little Bear’s open mouth. Sputtering, he recovered his dignity and we continued up the hill.

At the top, Widget picked a second dandelion, asking me first what I wished for, if I could have anything in the world. As we had had a little talk about cancer that morning, preparing him for an upcoming class for kids of parents with cancer, I was honest with him, kneeling down and telling him my wish for many more years together.  “Me too!” said Widget, and he asked “What do you wish for, Bear?” “A dog!” said Bear, oblivious to the topic at hand, focused entirely on the Chow we’d passed earlier.

We blew that dandelion out fiercely, taking care to avoid Bear’s face this time, but one must have floated back our direction, because as I heard Widget explain what had just happened to Bear, I had to wipe something from my eye.  Such little bits of children they are, to deal with such big topics, but so strong.

My sadness disappeared quickly as I heard Widget explain, “We wished for many more years together, Bear. Maybe even a whole lifetime!”

The sun was shining as he pedaled away, and the birds sang happily above.

Like Mama won over cancer

April 6, 2011

Little Bear, worried about a field trip yesterday, “But Mama, I need you there in case there is something scary.”

You’ll be okay, Little Bear.  Mama can’t go today, but your teacher will be there, and she will keep you safe. 

Cuddled in my arms, he asked, “But what if there is something scary?”

Well, there will be, Little Bear, it’s the story of Passover, and Pharoah gets angry.  He’s the bad guy, remember?  But Moses wins.  It’ll be okay, because Moses wins.

From deep in my arms, came a small, confident voice:

“Like Mama won over cancer.”

That’s right, Little Bear.  And we cuddled and were strong together.

I haven’t talked about my cancer with them in months.  But of course they know, since I’m still gaining strength and taking naps in the late afternoon, when the morning just isn’t enough, or when I’ve pushed myself to get work done.  I’m stronger and stronger, but still not close to 100%.

And we have scans on Friday.  I’m nervous, I’ll admit.  But I want Little Bear’s words to be true, one more time. 

I want to win over cancer.  Again.  And yes, I know that’s a selfish hope, to beat cancer a FOURTH time, but it’s selfish in protecting my children.  They’re not ready for me to leave yet, and I am not ready to leave them to grow up in the world without their Mama.