Its a sad day. A boy in my son's school was shot and killed last night. My heart goes out to his parents We live in a scary world.

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Vacation Nevertheless

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In April, we had planned a trip to Florida. For numerous reasons, including my recent diagnosis, we couldn't go. We had taken a trip there exactly one year prior. That trip was cut short as my mother had become very ill and entered hospice care in my home. But we recently rescheduled April's bamboozled travels. And, for the past several weeks, I have been very skillfully planning my execution of all that needed doing to pull it off this time. PSC makes a person tired. All. The. Time. But we got it all done, and we left the house at 4AM yesterday. I drove some of the way in the morning, but my husband did most of it. Thankfully. He and my son understand how I am and what this does to me. And they didn't complain about my falling asleep for much of the last leg of the drive. It looked like sleeping, but it felt like a cross between drunk, hungover, and dead. Other people with this disease know what I mean.    We arrived at this beautiful little rental home last evening....
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Take THAT Anxiety!!!

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Something that not many people know about me is that I have dealt with anxiety and panic.  I have been told that it is unusual for panic to surface so late in life, but I experienced my first panic issue in my early forties.  I knew immediately what it was, and I sought the help of a doctor.  I also devoured a number of books and listened to relaxation tapes.  I practiced breathing exercises.  I took the initiative and brought the situation under my control.  I took pride in the fact that the doc prescribed Xanax, and I only ever took it two or three times--and that was half a pill.  I hated the feeling it gave me, kind of like being a zombie. There is a misnomer about such attacks.  Perhaps panic is not the best description of what actually occurs. I saw a reporter on the TV a few nights ago.  They showed a clip of him in the midst of a panic attack while reporting live.  He looked down and appeared confused.  He stumbled over...
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The Very Sad Thing About Cancer

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  I t is about 2:20 AM on Saturday before Easter. I tried sleeping, but cannot. I have a lot of discomfort, cancer and treatment-related discomfort. I also realized that I no longer have a fingerprint on the finger I use to sign into my phone and many accounts. I was very close to getting locked out of my own phone just to get onto this site. Folfox, the chemo I am receiving, can damage the skin on a person's hands and feet. Mine was peeling badly a week ago. Now it seems that, though healed, the ridges are so shallow that they do not read anymore. Hopefully they will return. Otherwise I have unintentionally achieved what criminals through the years have gone through great lengths to accomplish. Oy. Well, on to the idea that is the reason for this post: a man I knew only from Facebook died a few days ago. Like me, he was 54. Like me, he had cholangiocarcinoma. Like me, he was receiving chemo through a port. He commented that it looked like we had the same "set up" when I...
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