ah, sweet relief

Barb's letter regarding the PET scan:


Allelulia!

I tested clean. My PET scan is clear. I went through a whole day of hell, but at 7:30 the doctor called and said I had a clear scan. What wonderful words. John and I were beside ourselves and Josh was right behind us.

I found out that I now go for radiation in three weeks. It will take that to get the chemo clear and not interfering. Then I start radiation for five weeks. Then it should be over. I think I will have to go through this every six months, but just to be normal again is worth everything.

My peeps, how can I say thank you enough? I was so scared. When he called I was so afraid of what he was going to say.

You have stood by me through it all and I am so very thankful. Thank God for all of you and what your prayers have done. It is amazing.

Love, me.

So we can breathe. Barb is looking forward to being "normal," painting the new French doors in her dining room, lounging with the girls by the pool, growing her hair out. She knows it's a reprieve, one that may not last forever but for the moment, there is nothing but joy.

I feel everything--every part of me--unclench for for the first time in what feels like months.

I am abandoning hearth and home Saturday for the wilds of North Carolina--heading up for my 8-day winter residency at grad school. My manuscript is as polished as it will get, so bring it on, brutal givers of workshopping feedback. I can take it. I revel in the retreat into academia, into reconnecting with my brain and literature and the staggering talent and passion of so many of my schoolmates. I'm looking forward to the next two weeks. Life is good. Hope you're feeling good too.

PS:

Dear Pat Robertson,

Shut your piehole and stop scaring the little old ladies. My poor sweet little 75-year-old neighbor, Bonnie, is now convinced we will soon be nuked into oblivion and she cannot function. Thanks a lot, asshole.