Before I share my writing from this morning, I want to update you on my visit with my oncologist to review yesterday’s scans.

Hans and I met with the doctor at 4:45 PM today to review the results of my scan. The good news is that all my numbers looked good, and the tumors that we can see are continuing to shrink.

Unfortunately, that does not account for the intense pain I’ve had. The what or who that probably does account for the pain is as yet unseen. The tumor I’ve named Flathead and the microscopic cancer in my peritoneal are the most likely culprits!

So for now, I have phone calls into Moffitt to try to get an appointment ASAP. I will have to manage the pain with a liquid diet and pain meds in the meantime.

I hope it doesn’t seem morbid to launch from that subject into my earlier writings, but nevertheless…

Dead but still here.
When I die, that’s what I want to be.

My mother is dead but still here.

Mom is here when

I look in the mirror or at my sister and I see her staring back. I note the physical features and the mannerisms we share. Our faces, fingers, hands and toes, hair, teeth…all determined by random combinations of the DNA from mom and those who made mom. Fantastical jumbles…created by centuries of ancestors who too are dead but still here.

Mom is here when

I offer up her quotes. I preface them with “As my mother would say”
In April, when someone complains about paying too much taxes, I say, “be happy that you make enough to pay taxes…not everyone does.

Mom is here when

I am channeling her positive spirit. She provides me with fuel for good times and extra octane for bad ones.

Mom is here when

I listen to my sons excitingly recommending the books they are reading or the pod casts they are listening to. They have inherited her love of learning. All three voraciously gobble up opportunities to do better..to be better.

My dad is dead but still here.

Dad is here when

I am summoning up strength to fight my cancer. After his diagnosis, Dad came to the conclusion that he had lived a good, long life and he harbored no anger. He wasted no time on “Why me?”

Dad is here when

I am with dogs. His intense love for our dogs was infectious and all of our family households proudly attest to our addiction to dogs.*Shoutout to Twigg, Tripp, Maya, Oso, Piper, Morgan, Jory, Baxter and Roxy.

Dad is here when

I hear his voice reminding me not to waste electricity and so I turn off the lights whenever I leave a room.

Dead but still here.
When I die, that’s what I want to be.