About Me

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I am a retired English teacher and department head, the mother of three grand mother of four, and have been married to the same man for 48 years. I subscribe to Dr. PM Forni's concept of Civility. I was born in South Philadelphia and grew up in the 'burbs. I love soft pretzels and cheesesteaks, the Phillies, the Eagles, and San Diego. I love being Mom, Aunt Kathy, Nona Kathy, and Teacher. I spend a lot of time in my gardens in the spring and summer, and in the winter I plan what I'm going to plant. I also am an avid reader and photographer.


Friday, April 19, 2019

Take Care Your Wishes

Notre Dame Cathedral virtually burned to the ground this week; still more immigrants seek asylum; our country 's divide grows as those corrupt and hate-filled saturate the news with anathema and their power.  Temperatures wold-wide have increased two degrees, and Mother Nature becomes more and more violent in her response.

More importantly, this is the week I was told I have breast cancer.  I saw the mammogram; I intrinsically knew it didn't look good; I saw the look on the faces of the technicians and the radiologist;  I saw they wouldn't look me in the eye,  and yet I was devastated when told.  I waited until my husband left for work, and then sobbed.  

I wonder if the fates heard me when I've frequently said I don't want to grow old.  Frailty terrifies me.  What I'm feeling now is a close second.  I'm at the mercy of others.

I mourn the loss of my normal.  I mourn that a part of my body that I love is now sick.  I see the shirts that boast, "These are fake; my real breasts tried to kill me,"  and while I appreciate the humor, I cannot join in with the laughter as something I treasure, with which I've lived for 67 years is sick and will soon  be under the knife.  And as trivial as it seems, I'm saddened by my soon-to-be bald head, and wondering if I can learn how to tie a scarf, a pretty one that makes me look as if I'm handling my illness well.


Sally Wessely said...

Oh Kathy. Tears are running down my checks. Again, words fail me. Grieve. That is all I can say. Grief is a normal part of the journey you now must take, of that I am sure. Your story has changed, and I’m sure it is not the story you wanted to write, but you have shared this shift in your story with us so succinctly that we are left with no words of our own. I’m not sure if this is true for all, but I do think that as I have grieved, I have found new strength and new courage and new determination.

Linda Reeder said...

Oh, Kathy! I struggle to find the right words. You have a long, hard, terrifying battle ahead of you. I hope you have fellow soldiers you can line up to help you.
Thank you for sharing this hard news with us in the bloggosphere. Stay with us and let us offer comfort.

Cynthia said...

You have great courage to post such raw ad honest feelings on your blog. No denial here1 My sister-in-law went through this twice in the past decade. It's been five years now and she's still going strong. I don't think any of us escapes some kind of trial like this. I hope you keep on writing during your treatment and recovery. It helps all of us to put ourselves in your shoes, because sooner or later we' will all get some unwelcome news.

Cynthia said...

To answer your question about mosquitoes in Costa Rica-- we were advised to take plenty of bug repellant with us, but I never saw a single mosquito, and usually, if there are mosquitoes around, they'll find me! Maybe it wasn't peak mosquito season yet.

Cynthia said...

Kathy, how are things going?