I am remembering my dearest friend, Bliss (not her real name but close). We met the first day in chemo, we recognized each other from Mass. Both moms of teens. Instant 'in the same club' feeling. One day on the first round of cancer, I hit a real low. I was lying on my couch praying the rosary weeping 'I cannot do this mama, I am done, I cannot bear another moment.' And the doorbell rang. The door opened (by someone who knew how hard it is to get up and answer the door) and in walked Bliss, all cheery. 'I brought you some tortellini soup!' I wept and she put the soup down and sat near me. 'I just got a clean bill of health...ALL eight tumors in my liver are gone!'

She prayed with me. She said Go ahead and ask for a healing, ASK for it and don't feel bad. Set a date. She told me how St Bernadette came to her in a dream and said Don't worry everything will be alright. We became so close over the next two years. She had stage 4 colon cancer and two boys. We used to go out for lunch and confess our thoughts. I said I have always wondered HOW one actually died of this. And she laughed saying she always wondered that too! Then we imagined what happened and laughed. I told her I asked my sister to go pick out a coffin for me (she refused) and my dying wish is to not have to need an oversized one to fit. It was so fun to be able to laugh and be irreverent.

I never really minded being bald. Hair falling out was a tear jerker, though. I remember the first time I had a handful of wet hair in the shower. I looked down at the drain and wept. Then I went and got it cut really short. F-you cancer...I'll chop it off before you can take it. I make my hair short, not you. Then I shaved it. My way of maintaining control. The next time my hair fell out I pulled it out and offered it up praying I know you have every one counted...this is for those losing their hair for the first time..may this NOT be for nothin' Lord.

I friend of mine at work confessed that she had a wig...that it was a 'hot floosey wig' a Raquel Welch long blonde wig. I borrowed it and wore it to church one Sunday and all the men glanced at me. My friend's husband laughed and asked if I would lend it to his wife! My daughters were furious and sat in a far away pew. I just needed to be ballsy about this cancer deal. You have to do whatever you can to keep from sitting and crying. I could not stand that people who never had the time of day for me suddenly came up to me with pathetic contrived sad faces and said 'I am soooooooooooo sorry." What do you say to that? What? Me toooooooooooo? I'm sooooooooo glad you feel sooooo sorry for me? Then they would try to keep talking about it, telling me about every person they ever knew who suffered a terrible death from it.

When I first got it our priest invited me to the parish council Christmas party, which had, of course, a lot of booze. One woman who was THE power player and could not stand me came around three times to tell me she knew someone who died and her children were fine. I wasn't sure if she needed a drink or had had too much, but I wanted to give her a 'bronx hair wash'. That's when you shove their head in the toilet and flush. The really sad part of this was she probably thought on the surface that she was comforting me. There was a time, years ago, when her face shone with light and joy and kindness. We cannot ever rest on our laurels. How does it start, I wonder, that turn from grace? I think it is a little hurt somewere left untended, or staying near someone who refuses grace.

People ask me what is good to say (as if they might have said some such stupid thing, and I say ask 'who is coordinating meals for you: I'll call them and bring you a dinner. I'll be praying specifically for you everyday at noon...' One woman leaned over to me after communion and said 'I just offered this Eucharist up for you, I offer every Eucharist up for you'. And I cried. Who am I? What about all the people who don't have faith who have no one to pray for them? Why me? Why am I so cared for?

This is my moat story. I have felt from the beginning that I have been, am being, dipped in a yucky moat of suffering. A moat is that river surrounding a castle that is filled with crap and other deadly stuff that keeps bad people away. I am dipped in this moat that everyone with cancer is in, but for some reason I am being held. There is some reason I am being allowed to understand this suffering. I just wonder why I am being held, when I am no saint.

So, back to Bliss. I called my sister in law, Rose, and asked if she wold pray with me for a cure and she said sure. And I told her Bliss said set a date. So Rose said how about June 1st and I immediately said No, May 1st. He can do it when ever He wants and if He's going to do it I want it for Mothers Day. Later on I was on my surgeon's examining table and he asked how my husband is and I said Oh fine, except that his wife has cancer. He stopped cold and declared NO his wife HAD cancer. Yours is gone, your numbers are normal. At home, I told my daughter and went out to the grocery. Then later Rose called and asked about me and my youngest said Mom's okay and the doctor said she doesn't have cancer anymore. Rose called back later and said, crying, do you know what day it is? It is May 1st! I later realized that May 1st is St Joseph's day. That is another story, how St Joseph is responsible for my survival. I'll get to that some other day. Time to get up and get out in the sun. Thinking of you, Bliss, and praying for your boys.

3:13 am. felt pretty good today, no bone pain, no restless legs. I got tired and rested, got some stuff done. Felt at peace. Went to bed and out come the legs rattling and the bone pain, now I'm up waiting for it to work....the drugs.

I prayed for God to heal me tonight. I have not done that yet. My prayer has been for grace to carry this cross, to let me offer it up and atone, for all the good intentions abandoned, the utter absence of thought of another until after it is too late, the hypocrisy...I'd really like some relief though, for my family, too. It does make me more aware of others who are suffering everywhere. It really irks me when folks say "You look great!". I know they mean well, but no one sees my almost continual pain. So maybe I don't see the pain inside others, the psychic pain, the loneliness.

I started this blog as a place to put down random thoughts, log some of the profound things that have happened since I got the diagnosis. I used to joke with my gynecologist "I can handle anything, as long as its not cancer...then it was as long as its not ovarian, then as long as its early, then as long as I make it to Christmas. Now its until my youngest gets to college....

I have realized how connected I have been to people in my church that I don't know but to see them weekly. Now I really smile at them, I love them to death, just for sharing life with me, coming to mass every week. My neighbors, too. And my family members (a sister who had been estranged for 20 years) talk often, and always say I love you. Friends too. I feel so blessed to have people in my life, the grocery guys, the lady in the convenience store, every where I go there seems to be people, real live images of God... This is what happens when one's bar is lowered. It's a good day when I can breathe. I remember not being able to breathe.

Today was a joy day...as if my heart was overflowing, dripping and leaving spills on the floor. I got a call from my youngest..she is at a youth conference, and she was so excited because she went to confession, and really felt adoration, with 2000 kids her age. This is a totally normal kids kid. She has been pretty mad at God lately, since my stage 4 cancer returned. So I take it she has felt some healing of her fear and sorrow. Thank you Lord.

11:45 PM Friday night. My sister just left today after a weeks visit. It was comforting Just to have here near. I am disappointed that I had no energy to take on a project. Last visits were full of quilt making. We did make it to a great quilt show and were inspired.

I rested on the couch while my daughters cleaned up after dinner and hubby sat near me surfing the net. My legs arms and hip bones ached terribly and I was sad that they did not know. What do I do...yell out hey by the way even though I look really good and just lazy, I am in terrible pain.

It is just so weird that no one knows. I feel that focusing on it more makes it worse, yet not sharing it causes isolation.

I am dreaming about a hot tub, soaking and stretching.

I miss my routine spiritual life, my rosary..it all fell out of whack on the visit. I get all my strength and comfort from my time in front of Jesus. Sure wish we were in a 24 hr adoration parish.

Let's see. It is June 17th. 10:42PM. My legs hurt, and my arms and hips. The doc says a small percentage of taxol users suffer from bone pain after chemo stops and I got it. Sometimes it lasts a year. Ibupropin actually worked partially this afternoon. I just bear it during the day, but sleep is impossible. Last night I was about to take 3 5mg oxycodones and double checked and sure enough I had laid out 3 15mgs. I wonder what THAT! would have done. I always lay them out and double check.

I started out offering my trial up to the Lord, as a sacrifice applied to others, hoping and trusting for some good use of my suffering..redemptive. Often it would relieve the suffering and make it easier to bear. Then, as only a Catholic would understand , I wondered if it was then less of a sacrifice as it took my mind off my own pain. In a holy moment I told the Lord I wold suffer whatever He wanted me to have, that I would suffer for His kingdom if He thought it could be useful. There are so many ways I have tried to amend only to fail, so I welcomed this chance to atone and help others, for all the times I failed to do so. But now it seems really hard, and I am disappointed at my sorrowful attitude.

I hate that so many people say "wow you REALY look great" You don;'t say that to most people, as if they usually look like crap, or they should look like crap. It does bother me that they have absolutely NO idea what my day is like. I have slipped into self pity. I cannot quite wrap my head around the idea that this is it....it does not get better, only worse, I can hope to limp along staying alive as long as I can. When it comes back it will be harder yet again.

The truth is that in many ways it is easier this time. Nausea is not a problem, I took l-glutamine for the shooting bone pain that was an indescribably awful nerve pain that I had to drug up around the clock for a week to battle while I juggled the nausea drugs. None of that this time. The side effects are much worse, and life threatening, so I have to be constantly vigilant. I am alive from very advanced stage 4 ovarian with a second recurrence, in part because I have some medical background and I am willing to be a total pain in the ass. I do not stop when a doc shrugs the shoulders and says I don't know what that is, and (I really don't believe you are in pain because YOU LOOK SO GOOD!). I keep pushing until I find out. And that is exhausting. My anger that THEY should be doing this makes it all the harder. I could be grateful I have teh ability to hunt down and figure out what assorted aches and pains are.

I have an awesome surgeon, a holy humble man. He says 'I always believe everything you tell me. Thos other docs don;t know how good you look when You are sick. That man taught me what hope it, and how totally powerful it can be.

Last time my prayer was panic: " I better not f--ing die" I am shamefaced remembering that, but I knew it was futile to water it down for the Lord, who already well knew my desperation to live.

This time my faith had certainly grown,,my prayer was more Thy will not mine...if this is what You require, I know You can do anything and I know You know how much I want to work in Your vineyard, seriously, and prepare my family and help them grow close to You. I have a real desire to grow in holiness, to let go resentments and sticking angers. I am still mad at my two female doctors who outrageously missed serious signs of disease for two years. Telling me I was just fat. That must be the outcome of cheating on all those med school tests.

When my mind got so fuzzy I could not pray with words at all, or even thoughts some days. I discovered I could only do a few things with my energy level, so I became aware of DOING things. Like emptying the dishwasher..not in a hurry. I realized I did not recall the last time I did something in the moment, NOT in a hurry to finish an unpleasant task. So I would just empty the dishwasher slowly, while I just BE-ed there.

God blew down an awesome holy priest into my life who helps me. He told me to continue to be and do things slowly but to consciously invite the Lord into the moment. This all started in May when I invited the Blessed Mother to visit me in my home and accompany me during my entire day. So I talked to her ...Lots of dishes, Ma. Glad you are here. It doesn;t matter what I do if you are here with me, in fact it feels better taking my time with you so I can pay attention to your company as I work....

My kids are mad at me. I can feel it. I suspect it is because they see I am feeling worse after the dynamite chemo ended and they are worried, and like me, sick of it all. There is a lot of tension in the house.

Off to bed. You are not alone out there. There are people you don't even know who pray for you. There is a furnace of love somewhere, remembering you at this very moment. We are all invited into that furnace. Cancer is like this, a furnace of love, where everything that is not love burns away, and it hurts real good, makes me feel real hope, and security. I want to see this pot..I am a racu pot, with bits of gleaming metallic starting to show through, the cracks taking on meaning and adding to the beauty, new amazing colors surprising and delighting revealing themselves. How have You made me Lord? I have to sit still and not try to escape the place I find myself in. His first whispered words to me were a gentle 'sshhhhhh....'