Dear Diary

 January 24, 2012

When I was young, I desperately wanted to record my pubescent escapades in a special faux leather diary, probably green with gold embellishments, which could be LOCKED with a special tiny key, assuring that the prying eyes of nosy parents or siblings would never rest on my brilliant accounts of said escapades. It never happened. Oh, I did own a diary or two back in the day and I still have a couple of those tiny keys languishing in my jewelry box. Since I have no recollection of ever getting rid of the little books, I hang onto the keys just in case one of the tomes shows up in some unlikely place.

Sadly, if I ever did recover a diary, I'd be disappointed. I was not good at diary writing then and I'm not good now. Here's how it usually went:

Dear Diary, (OK, to whom am I writing? To myself? Girlfriends who will most likely insist upon reading my private thoughts? My parents who won't be able to help themselves when I leave it lying around? My brothers and sisters seeking payback? Oh God, do I need to choose an audience? OK, I choose the diary itself, an inanimate object, a non-judgmental entity. Oh, who am I kidding? Everyone will want to read this stupid thing. Now I can't write anything, at least not anything of any importance.)

I went skating tonight. It was freezing cold. My friend told me there were a lot of cute boys at the rink. I didn't notice. All I can say is that I was able to get my hat back when it was time to go home. (Too vague? Good.) Nothing happened today. I went to school, came home, did some of my homework, kicked my sister out of our bedroom so I could write to you, and now I am going to get ready for bed. Night-night, diary. More tomorrow.

Your friend,

Kathy

Bor-ing! And that's my problem with diaries, journals--and now blogs.

At the outset of this blogging venture, I was sure I'd be able to contribute a few thoughts on a consistent basis, if not daily, at least weekly. But here's what happened: My life got boring and I've never been more grateful!

Since my last entry on December 7, I've been leading a relatively quiet, uneventful, and stable life. Oh happy me. Really!  Except for a recent hospital stay because of diverticulitis, unrelated to my cancer, I almost feel normal (a new normal, I suppose, to use the current overworked vernacular--which brings me to a couple of other tired phrases of the day: at the end of the day and kick the can down the road – aaackkk!). For almost two months I've been fever free and have required fewer transfusions. I finished the last dose of my fourth round of chemo today on a high note—hemoglobin is almost in the normal range, platelets are as high as they've been in a long while (just 4 points shy of being in the normal range last week, this week down some, but still encouraging). My white blood cell count is still too low for me to be much of a gadfly. I don't get out and about much and don't have too many visitors either which is kind of tiresome. Can't risk exposure to infections. But, I've been able to catch up on some reading and my favorite pastime, sewing. My latest project was a leotard and tutu for my granddaughter Cora's 18 inch doll, an American Girl knockoff. Cora turned five in early January, but I wasn't able to get to her birthday party so she, her mom and younger sister came to Mankato yesterday (Daddy had to work). She loved her doll's outfit as well as her matching leotard and tutu. Lots of dancing took place around here yesterday afternoon. Later, the North Mankato cousins and their parents joined us for supper. At the end of the day, a good time was had by all.

Tomorrow I'll get help with my hair. It's not coming out in clumps, but it is thinning. I can deal with it, but it is one aspect of this journey that I stew about. I've always said I wouldn't wear a wig, but maybe I'll reconsider. I'd only invest in a good wig, one that looks real, fits well and is lightweight. I'm willing to part with a good chunk of cash if I find one that meets those requirements. In the meantime, my hairdresser will do her best to make me look presentable. Ah vanity, thy name is Kathy.

Thursday will be a day of reckoning. I am scheduled for a bone marrow biopsy to determine how well the chemo is working to delay the onset of leukemia. My blood numbers tell one story, but a biopsy seals the deal. I am cautiously optimistic. Are we kicking that can down the road?

If you're still reading this, congratulations. Boring stuff, but damn hopeful. Thanks for being my friend, dear diary.

And thank you, dear friends and family, for all of your love and support.  I know I'm lucky to have you on my side.