Tests last week show no sign of cellular spreading of B’s cancer cells. Surgery is in 2.5 weeks. In the meantime we take walks as a family and spend most of our days together and watch Jeopardy every night and the Knicks when they play. The Knicks have won 9 in a row. Man City won a trophy over the weekend. The Mets are more good than not. Our dogs get along. It’s almost grilling season. Life is good.
First it was a shadow on a scan. Then it “looked concerning.” Then there was no sign of spread. Then it looked like the best-case scenario, and always — always — we’re waiting on results. Results came back today. It is cancer. Not the best-case type. Not the worst-case. Something in the middle. Ups and downs meet in the middle.
Spring is blinging. Flowers, plants, bushes and trees are blooming. It’s the first half of April and the winter weather appears done for the year — no small thing in a place where it can snow in May. All three of my teams are in season. The love of my life is here and her prognosis may be best-case scenario rather than what we spent weeks fearing. Our daughter is this brief perfect liminal self somewhere between a sweet young child and brilliant, loving tween. The dogs are healthy and get along. I’m writing and podcasting and working on short- and long-term creative projects. Someday I’ll look back and know these were the best days of my life. That day is today.
I just realized I haven’t written here in over a year. Not a word since the pandemic became the thing. But that pittance of words doesn’t indicate a lack of stimuli. You know how neutron stars are crazy small (for a star) yet crazy dense? Like, a teaspoon weighs as much as Earth? That’s what the past 15 months have been. A world’s worth of whoa shrunk down to a sugar cube of spacetime.
I hope to resume writing here again. If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll return, too.