Friday, I went to the doctor to have a uterine biopsy. She told me to come back on Monday for a sonogram to look at my useless ovaries. She said ovarian cancer is the worst.Saturday morning I went kayaking. Of my many hats, I have chosen the yellow one as my kayak hat. Kayaking is spiritual
Saturday, I participated all of ten minutes in the Provo Children's Book Writers and Ilustrators' Conference, or whatever it's called. It was the first time I had been in the library at Academy Square and it is lovely. I used to have a class there when I went to BYU in the dark ages. The best part of the conference was running into old students who were now published authors themselves. And seeing old friends.
Saturday evening, Tom and I went to see STAR WARS and root for the good guys. Or do we route for the good guys? NPR had spoiled a good deal of it the day before. Was it Ira Flato talking with the critics and blabbing all the surprises? I hate when they do that.
Sunday morning, I did not go to church. First I practiced lying like a dead woman, my arms crossed over my bosom trying not to breathe, trying not to think. It's hard to be dead, if you're alive. Then I read the New York Times. Tom came home from church and broiled a steak on the barbecue. I love gnashing a bloody steak.
Sunday afternoon, we went to Liberty Park with Carlos and Erica and the kids. Max and Murgatroyd played on the playground while the adults and teens discussed life, love, dating, and Germany. I wore my safari hat (as opposed to my yellow kayak hat). We ate cream puffs from Costco.
Sunday night, we went to Sam and Sarah's to sing Happy Birthday to Louis who is one. The Kameraths were also there (Sharon had excellent gossip). Louis practically turned inside out when we sang. He knew it was his party. I could eat that child, he's so cute. Sam made a train cake for him.
Monday morning, Tom drove me to the doctor. I was pissy. He didn't care. My ovaries waved at me on the sonogram. No cancer. I turned into Miss America. We celebrated by eating at Ruth's diner and I bought a bunch of clothes and smiled a lot at Tom, because he really likes it when I smile.
Monday night, we went to D. R.'s viewing. She looked dead.
But I am very much alive.
14 comments:
I'm a frequent adoring [but silent, usually] reader but must chime in my agreement: hate it when the reviewers ruin movies (we saw Star Trek too & liked it), staying home from church to read the NY Times now and then is a must, and kayaking is divinely spiritual.
And I'm so glad your ovaries waved at you, cancer-free.
I have to tell you that I did not see you as a kayaking kind of woman, but you are!
I'm glad you're alive.
I think the yellow hat is the perfect choice for kayaking.
Ovaries are ridiculous organs, useless or not. They cause far too many problems.
Fun to see you at the Provo Book Festival. I'm one of your former students now published many times over in the Friend, but I'll be excited when I can publish something where I kill somebody. Thanks for the inspiration. :D
I forgot to tell you that I met half my writers group in your winter 2001 518R class. They are published (or slotted for publication this year). I'm sure none of us would know what we're doing if it hadn't been for you.
I love when stalkers start writing.
Hurrah for your writers' group, Kim.
Ovaries: always a problem, I agree.
Yep, it is hard to be dead, if you're alive. Sometimes I think I am almost there, and I'm not even trying. Sometimes I wish I were.
I've tried to be Miss America and sometimes I KNOW that I'm there, but I can't find the blippin crown. oh well . . . it would likely be too much pressure and give me a headache.
Just yesterday my 21 year old grandchild (the oldest of 16) told me the same thing, that for her kayaking is both a grounding and spiritual experience, especially after the rough water, when she reaches the calmer waters near the cabin. There is a metaphor there.
I enjoy your blog and am really happy that you are cancer-free.
I thought I was the only one who ever lied still and pretended I was dead. I only do that when I can't fall asleep in the hopes that being dead will make me sleepy. It usually works.
I am glad your ovaries are healthy. And I am proud of you for kayaking and wearing your hats. I have hats, but I always forget to wear them.
Your report is fun to read. It makes me happy.
What a lovely post about your triumph over cancer!
Thank you for stopping by my blog today, I appreciate your comment.
I hope your ovaries wise up and understand you're the boss, and you want to be cancer-free!!
No, no I haven't triumphed over anything. I just triumphed through a couple of tests!
I'm glad you're alive. You're WONDERFUL!
-Another "frequent adoring [but silent, usually] reader." Love, love reading you!
What Kerry said . . .
I've tried to be dead like that before too. It didn't work.
(Sarah's sister, Marcia here -- wave!)
Post a Comment