Mile marker one

If I hadn't written in my calendar I'm not sure I would've remembered it but it was a year ago today that, while I was getting dressed, I found a lump in my left breast. I remember thinking 'hmm, where did this come from?'. Just five weeks earlier I'd had one of the most thorough breast exams of my life. Nonetheless, I called my doctor and made an appointment to get the lump, which I was sure was some sort of a clogged something, looked at. And with that the begining of this unexpected journey began.

This anniversary has come up rather quickly in part because as I get older I find that time moves ever more quickly and, as you can understand between all the doctor's appointments, chemo and radiation treatments, surgery--- now surgeries (Oh lord, I did not want to be 'that girl who is always having surgery'! Of course having had only three surgeries in this lifetime doesn't technically meet the threshold of always. Sometimes, and I'm not saying that this is one of those times, the degree in Theater Arts is powdered up and paraded around a bit.), not to mention with work and regular life the year's been quite a blur.

Janis told me, when we were first navigating our way through the unfamiliar landscape of the diagnosis of cancer and I was concerned about what the future would hold, that the next months would pass quickly and then the anniversaries would come and come and come and that we would be there to mark their passing. And how right she was. I am so fortunate and so thankful to be here today with you, my dear family and freinds, to pass this mile marker in good health.

The recovery from surgery continues to go well. The scars and brusing are healing, I've weaned myself off the pain meds and the days are no longer spent in a state of perpetual naps. I'm not doing sit-ups yet but honestly I wasn't doing them before the surgery either.

There was only a little bump on the road when the nausea overtook me on Saturday night. Vomiting after abdominal surgery was really not on my list of 'things to do' and I thought we had made preparations to keep it from happening but the pills just weren't cutting it. So Mom and Dad, who were stalwart caregivers, and I spent Sunday in the ER with me getting pain meds and anti-nausea drugs intravenously and all of us taking naps in the very spacious and sterile room. Once the nausea was under control, all was well.

Because of the pain meds I've been taking, I have had a lot of reading time this week and have just finished Anne Lamott's "Traveling Mercies, Some Thoughts on Faith" and have just begun "Plan B: Some More Thoughts on Faith". She defines traveling mercies as prayer of sorts which means 'Love the journey, God is with you, Come home safe and sound'. I believe that on this unexpected journey and in this life that this prayer has been true and it resonates with me especially today, on this anniversary.

In her books she begins each section with a poem. This one, which is by the beautiful sage Rumi, comes from the section in "Traveling Mercies" titled 'Shore and Ground' and holds within it the recipe for a beautiful life:

Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.
Don't try to see through the distances. That's not for human beings.
Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move.
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground. - Rumi

Thank you seems insufficient but bigger and more effusive words could not better express my gratitude to you for the love and support you have generously and tenderly wrapped around me. Thank you for walking with me on this unexpected journey. I intend to keep walking with peace and joy and beauty and am honored to have you by my side.

With love,
Karen