I started writing this post in September and last edited it in early October. I kept meaning to finish it. After a series of sad and hard things happened and medical updates pushed this post back, I didn’t feel like publishing it. On bad days, when I logged in to the blog to post or moderate a comment, the title of this one, frozen where I left it, seemed to mock me. It has been a year of extremes—high highs and low lows.

But. There have been good things, even at points where I have been at my lowest.

I never posted my results of the last scan: the tumor is bigger and active, producing a hormone that is making me feel sick. I am getting a hormone shot once a month to try to counter the effects and hopefully stop the tumor from growing for now. My neuropathy remains active, but I’m trying not to let it get the best of me, and I’ve been trying to stay as active as possible, even if it means some cramping and twitching. Physically, I am tired, and I accidentally slept Thanksgiving day away, a reminder that my body is often in charge more than my will, and I’m often at its mercy.

I just reread this old unfinished blog and decided to thaw it out, like a Thanksgiving turkey. The last line in the unfinished post seems appropriate for today. I need to remain grateful and know that despite the bad and difficult things that undoubtedly are on the horizon with cancer and neuropathy, there will also be unimagined good things too. I must remain grateful and I will try to remember to look for these good things. Below is my early October post.


Several Fridays ago, I had to work late. I emailed my boyfriend to let him know I wouldn’t make the usual ferry home, because we had plans to go to dinner and then go to a friend’s DJ night. I suggested I go straight to the restaurant, since taking the train straight to Williamsburg made more sense than taking a detour home. My boyfriend was oddly insistent that I head back first, though I protested that didn’t make any sense.

“Don’t you want to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Ziggy?” he asked. It was our oldest cat’s second birthday. Of course I did. What kind of weirdo wouldn’t want to sing happy birthday to their cat while feeding him a special tuna dinner? My boyfriend was secretive about where exactly we were having dinner, so I suspected something was up. (He had also told me not to volunteer for my garden tag sale that Saturday, but it had been moved to the next day at the last minute anyway.) Still, I was surprised when we walked toward the back of the restaurant and two long tables of friends greeted me with “Surprise!” My birthday was still almost a month away, so I was definitely surprised.

Since my cancer diagnosis nearly five years ago, it’s been a rollercoaster—or a snowglobe. As the snow in my world settles, with every diagnosis or new ailment or piece of bad news, my life feels shaken up with a new storm. The people in my life, however, have helped me stay glued to the bottom and weather all of this, and for that, I am so grateful and lucky.


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