I have so much to say today and so little time. Starting yesterday, I’ve had over twenty phone calls. The only thing good about that was my daughter had left her phone in her car and somehow my phone made its way into her hand, and she operates quickly, so each time it rang, she answered. It would have taken me a minute to compute that yes my phone must be ringing because the vibration seems to be coming from my purse, so yes I better open the correct zipper of my new 27-zipper purse, and then if there’s any luck to be had, the vibrating noisemaker will not have gone silent by the time I’ve opened the 19th zipper in my quest to find it.

But not so with Kathleen. She caught on real fast and almost instantaneously caught on that the noisemaker that had landed in her hand had to be answered. Must have something to do with being a mom of teenagers. New drivers. I remember when she was one. My responses were super fast back then, especially my verbal skills. When’ she’d gun the engine backing out of our garage, heading for the giant sized white oak behind us, my nursing students might as well have stayed home for the day. By the time, I’d happily kick her out of the car at her high school, four blocks away, I’d be without voice. Nada. Nothing. My vociferous yell would have silenced my vocal chords. Not wanting to lose the parenting voice, I’d be tempted to announce an all day study hall and call it quits. But you know where this is going. Some student’s mom would call the school and complain that they were paying big bucks for their daughter to sit for a 50″ hour of study hall with silent instructions (ineffective by the way) on how to spend that time productively.

Full stop. This is serious now. Yesterday, Kathleen and I had my appointment to see the oncologist to find out my options. Kathleen was going to pick me up and drive me the 7.3 miles from my home to the cancer center. My worst fear was that the site of the registration desk would tip me into wife mode. I’d been at the very same desk with my husband for his cancer in January of 2018. But there were no cameras this time. At least I didn’t see them. And they had set my late husband, Marv, into a tizzy. “Why do they want my picture anyway?” I had no need to explain anything this time, first because there were no cameras, and second cameras don’t bother me, so if there were any, I might have just taken a picture of them for the memory.

You may have noticed I’m paying little attention to writing or grammar rules. I’ve done enough of that with the two books I’ve written, and I want to save time with everything I want to say, or I may just want to be lazy. Take your pick, but it’s wonderfully freeing to skip over anything that shines brightly as an error. And simply move on.

But to back track a bit. I want to tell you in all sincerity how much I appreciate your kind words in response to my first two posts about my cancer. I soaked them all in. And got overwhelmed. As I saw the faces come up in my mind of those of you that I know, my heart filled with joy as I remembered where you sat in my class and some little vignette from clinical where we’d get in a chuckle in post conference. Those warm fun times bubbled up and settled heavy on my chest. I needed help to process. I wrote a friend saying reading your beautiful comments made me feel like I was attending my own funeral and hearing all the eulogies in prime time. I got help indeed that my feelings were valid. That my story was emotional, my story elicited emotional responses, and for sure there was a lot of intensity going on. And I got suggestions about going forward. Healthy ones like get through this initial stuff, then go back to living life. I won’t need to concentrate on dying every minute.

I am super thankful for all of you, new followers as well as many of you who have hung with me since Caring Lessons came out in 2010. I’m honored that you’ve chosen to walk with me on this final walk.

Back to yesterday morning. I found out what I mostly knew. I’m a candidate for the Whipple but not a good one. I’m okay because my CA has not yet spread, but I’m 83 1/3 (will explain sometime), have a high blood pressure, and a long clot in my leg. I think one doc took me for 33 1/3 because he painted way too rosy a picture until I corrected his lack of facts.

I’ve had nursing and family experience with the Whipple. (Look it up.) It’s not a piece of cake. And my body’s storage tanks of energy are running low. And just because I could get the Whipple doesn’t mean I should. My brother who died from pancreatic cancer in 2005 left instructions to spend what time we may have left with family, not hospitalized and sick with treatments. I hear him. I understand my late husband’s choices even more now.

So I changed my status from palliative to hospice. All those phone calls were about some aspect of getting signed up for hospice. My overwhelming feeling from yesterday is gratitude. I’m full of gratitude. I grateful I finally know what’s wrong with me. I’m grateful for my access to affordable healthcare. I’m grateful for my late husband who role modeled for me how to “say no to chemo”–to ascertain my priorities and to know what’s right for me.

I have no complaints. I feel stuffed with love for my family, friends, and new supporters. I am happy. Even my sister Esther showed up on FB memories for the first time in a long time. I could imagine her saying she’s waiting for me. If we will know people in heaven, I will see Marv and my four siblings who’ve preceded me in death. Just to think of crossing the threshold into heaven in the next few weeks, maybe a bit more, is giving me so much joy that a few friends confided, “We are not there yet.”

I get that. I wasn’t either two weeks ago. But the hour I got this diagnosis, I was flooded with happiness. And I’m not faking it. I really, truly feel that way, and thus I’m full of emotion with my emotional story, and I will continue to love all of you followers on this very new adventure of mine. I’ve never had cancer before. I’m curious at what I will experience compared with what I observed caring for Marv, family members, or patients during my active nursing career.

And, after tomorrow when I officially sign hospice papers, I will get back to living the life God has given me, enjoying every moment, entrusting my family, especially Kathleen, to carry out my pain management with the hospice nurses. She pinch hit for me with her dad; she knows the drill.

Have I said yet that I feel blessed!?! Well, you heard it here!

a lady complimented me on my “jacket”