Thursday, February 02, 2006

It comes in waves

Yesterday was Sunny's last chemo treatment. She has decided not to do the second round with Taxol. It is amazing how fast it seemed to go, for me anyway. Four treatments every two weeks and it's over. Luckily she got the package of Kim's goodies on Monday so she had gestures from unknown people to help get her through. She wrote me the loveliest note about the package - including instructions for me to forward the email to Kim, which I did.

In part she wrote:
I came very close to crying. I rarely cry anymore, beyond a token. I think that when I get to the verge of tears, I hold back for fear I won't be able to stop.

These gifts were unimaginably touching. I've only seen gestures like this on television, sometimes reality (news shows, talk shows), sometimes fiction. In real life, they are overwhelming. Last night, when the emotional surge made me sleepy (at 7 PM!), I fell asleep wearing the soft hat and scarf. Later, I went to bed for the night with the soft hat on for comfort and warmth.

The matching bracelets: weeping, weeping, weeping (inside). And so beautiful. When I showed my bracelet (and the hats and scarves) to Lindsay, he said I must wear them (well, not both hats) to the hospital for chemo, and indeed I shall. The bracelet is lovely, and knowing that you wear an identical one--I just can't describe how that makes me feel. And then Kim made a special one for (The Girl Friend! If Karma works, Kim can expect infinite rewards to go with my undying gratitude.

I can't thank any of you enough. I'll just say thank you from the bottom of my heart,

I only wish I could have seen her face. We spoke today and she said that she did finally cry, yesterday, at chemo. Lindsay went to park the car and when he came into the room to see tears streaming down her face. He rushed over to her, asking what was wrong. Sunny replied, "I ran out of strong." So eloquently put. So simple. I am glad she finally cried. Release is so important.

So often as I walk at Point Isabel with water changing colours as you watch, or drive looking at the sky swirled with fog and spots of absolute clarity, the quickly greening hills, I wish she could do her recovery here. I know she deeply loves her house, but I selfishly I want her here. I want to show her my world, I want her to breath the air touched by the salt of the bay, to be hounded by her grandanimals. I want to cook for her daily, to take walks together, I want hear her and The Girl Friend laughing in the living room.

Once again I have sent off a package without telling her. Yesteday I put the hat/scarf ensemble and the swirls of pink hat in an envelope - a package with love embedded in every stitch, hair of every animal here at the Cedar Street Zoo woven with mohair, alpaca, and wool. Once again I wish I could be there when she opens it. Instead I will await the phone call or email.

1 comment:

Ancrene Wiseass said...

Keeping you all in my thoughts. Running out of strong is easy to do in such difficult times, but both you and Sunny seem to do a remarkable job of avoiding that most of the time.