Category Archives: Cancer sucks.

Remember when Sue (the pretend-Buddha iguana) disappeared for a few days and then acted like nothing happened? Also: The end of May?

Remember when Sue, the pretend-Buddha iguana who lives on my wall, disappeared for a few days and then acted like nothing happened?


Something happened.

And I think I know what it was.


(and I’m pretty sure it was casual, motherfucker)

Yep.  Sue was out fucking around and now my backyard looks like a miniature Jurassic Park.

There are little iguana babies all over the place, skittering around on the ground, scaring the shit out of me and then hiding under the vegetation.  Which is probably pretty smart, since the birds seem to have noticed that they are here and would like to make a meal out of them.

I’ve tried to photograph them, but they are fast and my dang iPhone camera (and/or it’s operator) is s-l-o-w.

Just trust me.  There are a lot.

And what is Sue doing about this new development?


Just hanging on the wall, being all chill, ignoring me and his (her?) children.


I, for one, don’t think there’s anything “zen” about neglecting your children (or your friend Kim) Sue.  Where’s the loving kindness in that?

(I realize that I just confused Buddhism with Zen-stuff, but I’ve been drinking and I can’t sort it all out right now.)

I’m starting to doubt Sue’s buddha-nature.

I’m also starting to doubt my ability to write anything that doesn’t involve a (surprise!) LIST.


1.  How the fuck is it the last day of May?  Didn’t we just finish February?  I don’t understand time.

2.  If it’s the last day of May, then it is practically the 6th of June, which will mark 6 whole months since my artistic genius mom (with great hair) passed away.  And here is where time gets weird again.  I still feel like it happened yesterday.  I feel like it happened a lifetime ago. I feel like it never happened.  I feel like I’m still dreading the fact that it will happen.  I’m sad.  Every part of me is sad.  My hair is sad.  My toenails are sad.  My bones are sad.

3.  And I’m a little happy.  Well.  EXTREMELYHappy/Sad.  My brother and his wife (who I love) are having a baby ANY DAY NOW!  Aren’t babies amazing?  I always say that I can’t imagine ever loving another human being as much as I love my son, but my feelings for my brilliant niece Madison Grace come pretty darn close and my uterus is practically contracting in love for this new baby.  I’m serious.  I LOVE this baby.  I can’t wait to meet him/her and touch its little toes and kiss its little head and whisper “welcome to the world, baby – we already love you so much!”  And I can’t wait for my brother to get to experience this kind of love.  Primal love.  It’s such a gift.  Sigh….

4.  I was living in Denver and my sister was living in Atlanta when Madison was born.  She didn’t want me to come visit her right away when she had Madison, but when I heard that she was in labor and having a hard time (or maybe I imagined that part, I just couldn’t stand the thought of her in pain and none of us there with her)(even though her husband is amazing and totally capable STILL, I’m the seester) I left Denver in the middle of the night and flew to Atlanta.  And then I promptly forgot everything I knew about babies.  Seriously.  I was absolutely NO help at all.  I would like to think that I helped a little bit and that my sister was glad that I was there, but really, I think that I was more trouble than help.  STILL.  It seems like a representative of each family should be there to welcome the baby into the world, right?

5.  And now I’m in Mexico and my brother is in Los Angeles and they have said that I’m welcome to come anytime but I’m afraid to go because of the Madison debacle.  And I really really really really want to go.  So.  We will see what happens.  My next blog post may be from L-fucking-A, y’all.

6.  Or it could be from here, because I can’t seem to leave.  I look at flights and then I don’t buy a ticket about twice a day.  I know I have to leave.

7.  I also need to start working on the Celebration of Life we are having on July 14 (Mom’s birthday) in Lamar, CO.  We had a party for her here in Puerto Morelos in February and lots of family members were able to attend, but many more family and friends will be able to attend the party in Colorado in July.  Which is why it feels like her “FUNERAL”.  Which, it turns out, is why I had a major breakdown yesterday when there were some rumblings within the family about how maybe we should, ummm, start planning for this huge party we are hosting.  I lost it.  Completely.  I wanted to plan it and I didn’t want to plan it.  I was resentful and bitchy and I couldn’t even figure out what I was feeling or why.  And then I realized that none of what I was feeling was even about who was going to be doing the planning.  I just don’t want it to be planned. At all.  Because I don’t want it to happen.  Because I don’t want her to be dead.  And maybe the fact that we haven’t had a “FUNERAL” has somehow allowed me to continue to be in denial about the fact that she is really gone.

8.  Maybe this limbo that I’m in is also contributing to my inability to make any kind of decision about my future.  I’m not done taking care of my sweet mommy so I don’t have to think about taking care of me.  And so the party in July isn’t just huge in terms of letting Mom go, it’s huge in terms of “now what?” for me.

9.  So.  My friend Steve says that the little creatures that I thought were baby iguanas are not baby iguanas.  He thinks they are geckos.  He is wrong.  They are totally not geckos.  But I have to admit that it’s possible that they aren’t iguanas, either.  But I refuse to rewrite the beginning of this post, mostly because I’m still kind of pissed at Sue for disappearing like that and I like to think of him as a philanderer.

10.  This post would have been done approximately 10 hours ago but Steve the pretend “iguana expert” dropped by to drop off something and then we ended up going grocery shopping, chatting, drinking wine, chatting, watching the world go by on the front porch, chatting, having another friend stop by, chatting……  and that is just part of the reason why I love it here.  People just stop by and then adventures happen and more people stop by.  It’s not great for productivity, but it is great for, you know, LIFE.



p.s.  since i couldn’t get a picture of the baby iguanas (or whatever), the picture is of their environment – the side yard of the casa.  isn’t it cute?

p.p.s.  i suck at drinking early in the day.  that is why this post is going up so late.  i had to take a nap after the drinking.



Filed under Cancer sucks., The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo, Uncategorized, Writing and Not-Writing

Another place, another train. RIP MCA. Also, another list!

I am so saddened by the news that Adam Yauch – MCA of the Beastie Boys passed away.

He was my age.


I’m not going to pretend that I’m any kind of authority or super-fan of the Beastie Boys or Adam Yauch – I’m not.  But some of their music forms the soundtrack of my youth and I still listen to it today when I want to remind myself of what it felt like to be young and vibrant and so alive.  “She’s Crafty” and “No Sleep til Brooklyn” are probably my favorite BB tunes and both rank high on my “most played” iTunes list, with “Intergalactic” close behind.

Heavy sigh.


What else?

Oh, it’s Cinco de Mayo!  Seems like a good time for a list!


1.  It’s Cinco de Mayo and I’m in Mexico.  Which would be way more cool if Cinco de Mayo wasn’t a holiday that the Mexicans make fun of other people for celebrating.  Still.  It’s a holiday in my book….

2.  It’s eleventy-seven million degrees fahrenheit here today.  And it’s not a dry heat.  So instead of beach blogging, I’m bed-blogging with 2 massive fans pointed directly at me.  This is totally drying out my eyes, but making my hair fly around like I’m a supermodel at a photo-shoot, so that is cool.

3.  I could turn on the air conditioner, but then everyone would think I am a total wuss.  Air conditioning is a sensitive issue here, you guys.  For one thing, it’s expensive.  The electric utility here has some bizarre rate system that no one can explain to me, but basically it seems that once you hit a certain point of usage, the cost per unit of usage goes really, really high for the rest of the month.  To get around this, many houses are built with 2 or more electric meters, so that no individual meter hits the dreaded usage level.  My house has 2 meters.  The problem is that (a) I don’t know which meter corresponds with which part of the house (and therefore don’t know which air conditioning units are on which meter) and (b) I have no way of knowing what the dreaded usage level is by looking at the meters.  So that is confusing.

4.  But the real issue is that people judge you on whether or not you can stand the heat.  The thinking seems to be that people who can’t stand the heat are obviously inferior to those that can and also that if you can’t stand the heat, you should probably go the fuck back to where you came from and leave the whole “living in Mexico” thing to the professionals (and the Mexicans).  This seems a little harsh to me– a person who hasn’t adjusted to heat + humidity YET.

5.  Oh – I’m alive!  (No thanks to Typhoid Fever.)  About 5 days into the 10 days of antibiotics I started to feel like I just might make it and now I’m feeling enirely human again.  Yay.

6.  Big changes here at Casa de Colores — I’ve moved myself out of the big suite area in the back of the house and I now have a RENTER….  Weird, right?  It’s kind of a great spot for a renter, though.  It’s pretty much a studio apartment back there with a brand new refrigerator and microwave and a separate entrance, etc.  It’s weird to have someone in the house – especially when I’m used to running around half-nekkid in the god awful heat and to playing my music extremely loud when I’m showering, cleaning, cooking and/or writing.  Which pretty much covers everything I do in this house.  So there’s that.  But it also means that I’m getting a little bit of income to offset the cost of living here.

7.  Which is good, because I’ve decided to live here!

8.  Well, you know, KIND OF.  I’m having a hard time making any kind of firm committment to anything these days, but I’m mostly sure that I’m going to try to live here, like, for real.  At least for most of the year.  I have to go back to Colorado to take care of my stuff, my Mom’s stuff, etc. for at least a few months this summer and then I hope to come back in September/October and to stay through until at least next summer.

9.  I’m still trying to figure out exactly how I’m going to support myself here, but (SPOILER ALERT) it might involve (shhhhh) practicing law again.

10.  OMG – the monsters in my head are having a massive rally against the aforementioned (shhhhh) practicing law again, so I can’t really discuss it now, but YES, I think it is going to happen.

11.  The supporting of myself will also have to include some other stuff because, at least right now, the (shhhh) practicing law again is very, very part-time.  I think the other stuff may involve WRITING for MONEY – just not the kind of writing for money that I dreamed I would be doing, i.e., the best-selling novel kind of writing for money.  Oh no, this kind of writing is more the internet content and/or freelance article writing kind of writing.  Not nearly as glamorous, but more likely to pay actual money sometime before the year 2020.

12.  This is kind of a major announcement (Announcement!).  I probably shouldn’t have buried it in a Cinco de Mayo list.  Whatever.

13.  Have I mentioned that I’m about to be an Aunt again?!!!!  My brother and his wife are expecting their first child in early June!  I’m so excited and I’m also a little bit sad that our artistic genius Mom (with great hair) won’t be here to enjoy this new baby and his/her little tiny twinkle-toe feet.

14.  There’s more, but I can’t tell you about it right now.  Ha!



p.s.  sometimes i just feel like i’m writing you guys letters instead of “blogging” — is that wrong?  there’s also a lot of pressure (ok, it’s internal pressure, but still…) to be either (a) somewhat profound or (b) funny when i write and sometimes i can’t come up with either of those things.

p.p.s.  a baby!!!!


Filed under Cancer sucks., Writing and Not-Writing

Post-Moratorium-Kim is a lot like Pre-Moratorium-Kim, it turns out.

I wish I hadn’t written that last post on the Thursday of Mysteries.

I suppose I could just delete it and pretend like it never happened, but that seems disingenuous.  Plus some nice people commented on it, so just making it disappear seems rude.



It’s been bothering me.  A lot.  Especially the part about how it seems like I hate men.  Or penises.  Or both.

The truth is that I don’t hate men or their related equipment.  At all.

I think what I hate right now is me.

(That’s a tough one to say out loud…)

I hate how I came up with this “Moratorium” idea, then substantially complied with it (lawyer words for “I didn’t even do what I agreed to do, but I mostly did it and I think I get credit for that.”) and then it was over and – voila!I’m still the same as pre-Moratorium-Kim, except with another year of sad shit to come to terms with.

Pre-Moratorium-Kim had good intentions for the year of not using love/the search for love to avoid other important shit.  That Kim thought that she would focus on loving herself and loving her life and she would deal with all sorts of nagging issues that she had been avoiding for so long and then she would emerge at the end of the Moratorium as someone much better equipped to find/be in a relationship.  With a man, who has a penis, which she doesn’t and never has, hated.


Silly Pre-Moratorium-Kim….

In her defense, Pre-Moratorium-Kim had no clue about what those 12 months of Moratorium were going to bring.  She had no idea that her artistic genius Mom (with great hair) would have the sneaky kind of ovarian cancer that goes to the brain and then fucks things up from there.  She didn’t know about the brain surgery, the paralysis, the Gamma Knife surgery… She didn’t know that she was going to become a for real full-time caregiver.  She didn’t know that the time she had imagined spending doing meaningful things to figure out her own shit was going to be spent trying to make life bearable for her sweet mommy and/or spent lost in angst over how much she resented the burden of trying to make life bearable for her sweet mommy and then more angst about the awful shameful resentment.  She didn’t know how her son’s graduation from High School was going to pull the last remnants of the rug that had been her life out from under her.  That it would leave her reeling and unmoored and so, so sad about things she can never change.  She didn’t know about the packing up the house and putting life in storage.  She didn’t know about the homecoming in Mexico, the fall, the broken hip, the midnight flight back to the USA.  She didn’t know about the hip surgery, the horrible rehab center, the night her sweet mommy would ask her if she was dying and she would reply “no” because she was unable to comprehend that “yes” might be the answer.  She didn’t know how it would feel when the not-knowing-something turns into knowing-something and that something is that your sweet mommy is dying in front of your eyes.  Pre-Moratorium-Kim had no idea that instead of spending time figuring her own shit out, she would be getting up in the middle of the night to slip into/onto her mom’s hospital bed and crying on her mostly unconscious mom’s shoulder begging her to stay and telling her it was ok to go.  She didn’t know her Mom was really going to go.

I feel a little bit sad for Pre-Moratorium-Kim, she had such high hopes, such good intentions and then look at all that happened instead.

And now I hate myself a little less for being in pretty much exactly the same situation as Pre-Moratorium-Kim.  We didn’t really have a chance, did we?  It was months upon months of reacting to what was happening with Mom.  Maybe I should give myself a break for not fixing my own life last year.  I just hope that all the not-fixing-my-life made my Mom’s last year a little less awful.



p.s.  it’s so weird how i start out writing one thing and end up somewhere completely different.  i don’t know if this post makes sense to anyone but me, but i guess that is ok.  i feel a smidge better than i did when i started writing.

p.p.s.  i do really hate that Thursday of Mysteries post.

p.p.p.s.  i had Easter dinner at cantina habanero’s here in pto. morelos.  cheeseburger and fries.  very strange.  i am really missing my family right now.  on the other hand, i went scuba diving for the first time in 3 years yesterday!  it was amazing.  i love being underwater. (and being able to breathe while underwater)


Filed under Cancer sucks., grief, The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo, Writing and Not-Writing

Things they don’t tell you in books about grief, but probably should, according to me.

(NOTE:  This is really more of a “rant” than a “post”, but, frankly, this is all I’ve got today and technically it qualifies as “writing” [according to me] so, ummm, here goes.)

Here’s the thing.

I’ve read a lot of books on grief and grieving.

Some of them are helpful, others are not.

They all mention “denial” and “coming to terms with the reality of death”-type stuff, but they don’t seem to really capture just how fucked up it is to wrap your head around the fact that someone who was HERE is now NOT HERE and, moreover, will never be HERE again.

We all think we know what “death” means.  I mean, everyone knows this basic fact of life, right?  And then it happens and you’re all “what?”.

Or, if you’re like me, it’s more like this:



“No no no no no nononononooooooooooooo”


“Wait, did that seriously just happen?”


“No. No, it didn’t.”




“Why are these people just going about their daily lives like nothing has happened?  Don’t they KNOW?  WTF?  Why are the banks even open?”


“Now what?”


“I’m just supposed to keep living?” 






“OMG I can’t wait to tell  [insert dead person’s name] about this bullshit.”




“Oh. My. God.  That picture just fell off the wall…. is [insert dead person’s name] trying to tell me something?!  What?  WHAT?  I DON’T SPEAK DEAD PEOPLE LANGUAGE, DAMMIT!”


“Ok, I’m a little creeped out that [insert dead person’s name] is probably here, right now.  Does he/she watch me on the toilet?”


“Maybe [insert dead person’s name] is not, in fact, dead.  Maybe he/she is just hiding….”




“Oh look, it’s Dead Person X’s favorite movie….(happy/sad moment) and there’s Dead Person Y’s car and here’s Dead Person Z’s favorite restaurant/song/shoes/tree/flower/beverage and on and on and on and on”




“Fuck me.”


“What does death even mean?”


“I’m scared to die.”


“How could [insert dead person’s name] leave now?  We weren’t done yet.  There’s so much more.  And what about [insert every single thing you thought you were going to have time to share with the person who is now, evidently, dead]”




“If one more person tells me that [insert dead person’s name] is in a “better place” now I will, in fact, become violent.  WHO THE FUCK CARES ABOUT [insert dead person’s name]?  OF COURSE HE/SHE IS IN A BETTER PLACE, I’M CRYING FOR ME, ASSHOLES…. WHAT ABOUT ME?  I’M SURE AS FUCK NOT IN A “BETTER PLACE” NOW.”


“I am officially the most selfish person in the entire world, and possibly the entire Universe.”


“If I had been a better person, this might not be happening.”




“I’m going to be a much better person now….”


“OMG, [insert dead person’s name] would shit if he/she saw how dirty my car is right now!”


“What if I forget what [insert dead person’s name] looks like?  What if I forget the sound of his/her voice?  His/her laugh.  The way he/she walked?  What then?”


“Oh fuck.  I almost went a whole day without remembering that [insert dead person’s name] is gone.”


“I’m pretty sure this is just a bad dream.”




And it goes on like this for quite some time.

Around and around — I believe it happened and then I don’t believe it happened and then I actually forget about it for a while and then something reminds me and the grief is fresh again and it’s as if I’ve never felt it before.

I know that it ends at some point.

My Dad died in his sleep 15 years ago and I’ve recently realized that I’m no longer surprised when I remember that he’s gone.  It still hurts.  I miss him all the time.  But I  am finally resigned to the fact that he is gone.

Not so with my sweet grandmothers and my artistic genius Mom (with great hair) — all of whom died in the last three years.

I find that I’m not at all convinced that they are truly gone.

And yes, I know that people you love are never truly gone because they live on in your heart and blah blah blah blah…..

But really, they are gone.




p.s.  YES, as a matter of fact, I am still taking my antidepressants 🙂

p.p.s.  have I mentioned that I’m struggling with writing?  aarrrrgggghhhhhhh!


Filed under Cancer sucks., grief, The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo, Writing and Not-Writing

In other news, I’m pregnant. With the Buddha. Congratulations, Buddhism.

This is not necessarily a “real” post.  If you’re new here, you might want to skip this one and proceed to some of the other morbidly depressing posts from the last few weeks.

Mostly I just feel the need to check in  and confirm that  I have not, in fact, fallen into the pit of despair and hot lava and bad poetry.  (Ok, I did write some bad “poetry” from the edge of the pit of despair (and — cringe — publish it) but I didn’t go all the way in.)

Also, I am now in a little hotel on Longboat Key near Sarasota, Florida.


I needed some solitude and space of my own.  My sister and her husband and child needed to have their home/life to themselves after a month of hosting not only Mom and I, but then seven more relatives who came to stay during Mom’s last few days.

We’ve had a LOT of togetherness, which is difficult under “normal” circumstances, but when your artistic genius Mom (with great hair) dies right in the middle of the togetherness, everything takes on a new flavor.


The new flavor is “everything SUCKS” and we will pretend to be kind of ok with it but we all know it SUCKS and we are barely containing our extreme range of emotions regarding the pure SUCKINESS of it all.


I’m here on Longboat Key in a tiny little hotel overlooking the gulf of Mexico and it’s perfect.  It’s mostly empty and the few people here seem as eager to avoid conversation as I am, so everyone is minding their own business.  There are no kids.  Which is good because (a) I’m a total curmudgeon right now and (b) I’m bracing myself for taking care of my brilliant six year old niece all next week.  She’s amazing and a joy.  And she talks 10000% of the time.  You might think I’m exaggerating.  I’m not.  And it isn’t just idle chit-chat.  She is either bossing me around or saying something that makes me think her parents should be talking to Harvard and MIT, like, now.  Oh, and she is drop dead gorgeous.  If I weren’t so mature, I would be jealous of her already.

Here’s what I’ve been doing:

  • Walking on the beach.
  • Reading (OMG – The Untethered Soul is still blowing my mind.  Everyone should read this book.)
  • Journalling
  • Being mostly silent.
  • I showered today!
  • Crying.
  • Watching Season 2 of Dexter (how did I miss Season 2?  I don’t even know…)
  • Trying to ignore the Internet, except for the “meaningful” parts, which by definition, means I’m trying to avoid TMZ and anything “E” channel related.

During my quest for meaningful-ness on the Internet, I watched a webcast of Thich Nhat Hanh (Buddhist monk/leader/amazing person) speaking about Mother Earth.  Well, I think he was going to be speaking about Mother Earth, but he started talking about how we all have mothers, even the Buddha had a mother and, basically, there is this “overall” mother – Mamaya (sp?) – who, I’m assuming is akin to Mother Earth.  But what struck me was the part of the story where a student went to study with Mamaya (who was dead, of course, so he did a sitting meditation and got to her) and Mamaya was all “I was so happy when I was pregnant with the Buddha — no worries, no fear, only compassion – I couldn’t believe how big my womb was to hold all this compassion….” (Note that I’m not AT ALL quoting this correctly) and Thay (that is Thich Nhat Hanh’s, ummm, nickname?) went on to say that like Mamaya, we are ALL pregnant with the Buddha.  We all have this capacity for loving kidness and compassion inside of us – man or woman – and we believe we are just small humans but really we are huge, with huge wombs for all the Buddha-nature inside all of us.

[DEAR REAL BUDDHISTS:  I realize I’m probably butchering this beautiful story and you’re probably all “JESUS CHRIST, if you can’t get the story right, don’t even tell it, you’re ruining Buddhism for everyone else!”  And then I would say back to you “ummm, where’s the loving kindness in that, dude?  At least I’m not acting like I’m some kind of expert on Buddhism…”]

I fell asleep before Thay got to the real message re: Mother Earth (if you’ve ever heard him talk, you will understand why it is easy to fall asleep listening to him.  Also, he speaks Vietnamese.) which, I think, was going to be something like how we need to love our earth like we love our Mother and honor her capacity, etc. etc.  So, I guess I did hear most of it.


I had already heard what I needed to hear:  I am pregnant with the Buddha.

That explains a LOT.

Like how I should probably nurture the part of me that is chock full of loving kindness and compassion and peace and “it’s all good” instead of listening to the parts that are all “YOU SUCK.  YOU CAN’T EVEN GRIEVE RIGHT.  WHAT A LOSER.”  It also explains my fat belly and current obsession with yoga pants 🙂



p.s.  I warned you that this was not a real post.

p.s.s.  Is it healthy or scary that I still have a sense of humor at this time?

p.s.s.s.  How early is too early to start drinking on a Friday afternoon when you’re grieving the loss of all your alcoholic parents?  (Today is Dad’s birthday – RIP JKT)


Filed under Cancer sucks., grief, My Big Book of Me, The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo

Monday pulls me under.

image by Toni Frissell

I love this photo.

Grief is the ocean and I am the girl.

Some days are like this.

My grief is a warm ocean, a womb, and I am surrounded by it, held by it, protected.

The world is out there, but it is muffled and soft.

I don’t struggle.

I don’t panic.

I breathe.

Today is different.

Today my grief is an angry, roiling ocean with a mean riptide.

It wants to pull me out into deeper water and dash me against the jagged rocks of all my fears and failings.

I struggle, search for something to keep me afloat, tread water, panic.

I can’t breathe.

And now I wonder which came first – the angry ocean of grief or the frantic struggle against it.

Not that it matters.

It’s all here and I’m tired.

Writing helps.





Filed under Cancer sucks., grief, The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo

The world has lost an artistic genius (with great hair) and I lost my mommy. Ouch.

(this is totally under copyright protection, Marguerite Broyles, 2010)

My artistic genius Mom (with great hair) passed away on Tuesday morning.

I wish I had something extremely eloquent and moving to say.

I don’t.

My Mom died.  I’m sad.  Period.

Yes, I’m glad she is out of pain.

Yes, I’m sure she is in a “better place”.

Yes, I know she is deliriously happy  and probably already busy redecorating wherever she is.


None of that changes the fact that I don’t want her to be dead.


She was funny and bright and a pain in the ass and had no common sense at all and was magnificently bi-polar with almost no boundaries and she loved baby feet and grapes and should’ve been a majority owner in Coca-Cola and had what turned out to be a fatal attraction to gauze clothing and a beautiful smile and she loved road trips and lilacs and her nails were always perfectly manicured and she never left the house without lipstick.

She was also psychic, probably.

She “doodled” the picture above in her journal last Fall — right around the time we first asked her oncologist (“Dr. Death”) about some of the memory and balance problems she was having and asked him to check it out.  He ordered a CT scan and told us it was clear.  Four months later when she started having seizures and had a big ole brain tumor and several smaller brain tumor “seeds”, they told us  (“they” being the neurosurgeon and the new oncologist “Dr. Death, Probably”) that the best way to detect anything in the brain is with an MRI, not a CT scan.  Anyway….. she had brain surgery and then a procedure called Gamma Knife, which seemed remarkably similar to what she had drawn several months earlier, i.e., light flowing into her brain.

I’m too tired and sad to write much more today.  I’m still in Tampa and I’m so grateful that our family was able to be here with Mom in her final days.  Austin is still here with me, because he is the sweetest of sweet peas and because we had a snafu getting his college textbooks sent so he could study for finals.  The books should be here today and then he has to write a paper and turn it in and then he leaves Saturday morning to return to Denver.

Thanks for all the support and love from my “virtual” friends and family.  I can’t tell you how much you guys mean to me.  Hopefully I will be more coherent and have something more meaningful to say the next time I write.  Or not.  Whatever.




Filed under Cancer sucks., The Caregiver with the Dragon Tattoo, Uncategorized