Should I Stay or Should I Go?

My favorite part of the drive to Maryland is crossing the bridge over the Susquehanna River. It's a flat bridge, no cables or trusses to block the view and whether you look left or right, all you see is water, trees, and hills. When the sun is out, the water just sparkles like diamonds and I end up smiling inwardly at the beauty of this planet.

My least favorite part is being in Taryn's dorm room after we've carried in all her belongings and realizing that she is ready to transition from daughter to college student. I stand awkwardly, a lump in my throat, trying to figure out ways to stay longer ("Do you want me to help you put your things away?"), offering up hug after hug, wanting to give her her space but also wanting to hold on as long as I can. Finally, achingly, I go.

Having metastatic breast cancer is like waiting for the other shoe to drop. The first shoe dropped when I had the initial recurrence 4 1/2 years ago - coming to the realization that what I have is chronic and incurable. The other shoe? The inevitable terminal diagnosis. I confess, there are times when I wish it would happen already, so I can stop having these imaginary conversations in my head over how I will react when the doctor gives me the bad news. So I can stop worrying about the future and how much of it I will have. So I can remove this...annoyance from all of your lives. So I can stop feeling so damn tired of thinking about my cancer, treating my cancer, following up on my cancer, wondering if that pain in my hip is cancer, and educating my daughter about my cancer so that it doesn't become her cancer. Gone too soon? Sometimes, I think I have not gone soon enough.

And then I see the images on television and on the Internet, the injured and crying and despondent Haitian people whose hearts are as broken as their homes and I remember that as long as I AM alive I am needed to help (even if it's only in a small way, with a check or a text) to alleviate the supreme sadness of loss. I remember that this precious gift of life from God has an unknown expiration date - for all of us - and it is better to put aside the internal debate of whether it is better to be here or not. Because it's better to be here. Hands down.

Love and a healing hug to Linda, Tim, Victoria and Timmy mourning the loss of their family member. Prayers for my wonderful angel Caralyn and the whole Stein family as they wait for "Grandpa Charlie" to come back. And a special shout out to Trish, who celebrated her 40th birthday Saturday - she is an amazing mother, wife, cousin, friend, aunt, teacher and sister. She is nothing short of fabulous!

Blessings and Love to All!