Where in the world is Michelle?

I have been feeling sheepish about writing lately.  Flaunting my adventures feels extravagant and I am embarrassed by how lucky I am.  I have always been passionate about exploring the hidden corners of the globe, but now that life is perched on a powder keg I want to go everywhere and do it all -- today.  I can't say thank you enough to Bruce for appeasing my insatiable desire for travel this year.  Being empowered to seize the day is great, but recently I wondered, "Am I traveling just to evade Porlock?"  If I could travel far enough to escape recurrence I would take on that challenge, but obviously I can't.  After three back to back trips -- Costa Rica, Oregon and San Francisco -- I delayed a trip to Hawaii because I can't keep running forever.  (Terry, I promise we will go on a trip somewhere!)  Today was actually the first time since returning from Oxford that I enjoyed just hanging out at home.  I wasn't planning a trip or plotting an escape.  I mowed the lawn, harvested apricots, baked a pie, and sat on our lovely front porch.  It felt good to just sit and be with what is.  

I tried to use my one year anniversary to move forward, but Porlock lurks like a malignant shadow.  So I still struggle.  I create a lot of suffering for myself, trying to know the future and worrying about the worst case scenario.  Will I beat this?  Or will I die young?  I know I am healthy today; why isn't that enough?  I want to know I will still be healthy in two years, in 10 years. I am tired of thinking about dying; the mental battle with cancer is exhausting.  Actually, I have learned that my current battle isn't with cancer but with myself.  I am grateful to Flannery and Nelson (my hospice counselors) and Katie (my CC counselor) who help me through this maze of survivorship issues.  I am trying to convince my mind to accept uncertainty.  Most days I wake up feeling healthy, positive, and confident in my remission.  I am a cancer warrior!!  I can beat this.  A day later, at the slightest fatigue, gas pain, or odd feeling, I wallow in worry about recurrence. I feel bipolar, or like I have a bad case of the cancer crazies.  On days when I feel victimized by cancer, sorry for myself or alone on this path, l play a game. I sit in a crowded place and watch each passerby. The blond skateboarder eating a burrito.... that old couple with matching Florida tee-shirts...... the hipster on the cargo bike..... the parents pushing the stroller with a toddler and an infant.... they will all die.  They will all die.  They will all die.  I do this for several minutes.  We are all dying.  Is this morbid?  Maybe, but it is helpful.  We are all on a path toward death; I am not special.  I am not the first person to die and I will not be the last. The day I die 150,000 other people will die too.  Two people died this very second.  

Wow, that got heavy -- time for a trip update.  For spring break, Bruce and I went on a Backroads biking trip in Costa Rica.  We rode about 100 miles, zip-lined through the jungle, flew over a perfect cone volcano, saw a sloth, three pairs of the quintessentially showy jungle bird, the Quetzal, and had a huge bonfire on the beach.  It was all fantastic.  I can't say enough wonderful things about Backroads.  The guides are extraordinary, the logistics and support top notch.  This company does everything but peddle the bike. We stayed at this heavenly resort.   Next trip report, Oregon with Jane and Nan.....

As always, take care

Michelle