With chemo the two days prior to Thanksgiving my odds at a festive holiday were weak and then the news came Tuesday morning that my toughest drug, oxaliplatnum, would be increased this round. I cancelled my plans. My ritual is to join a host of friends at an expansive farmhouse on the rim of a gorge allowing views to the desert east and the rains west. It’s a magical place holding decades of shared memories. I would miss 2014.
The funny thing about being missing is that you are in fact gone. The art of holding places seems minimally tested. As I slept all day Thursday and Friday I checked my email on the hour hoping for virtual connections. There were few. Clearly the party was taking full attention. Today I awoke to put on real clothes, my moans and belly holding the minimal clues to inner turmoil. But the steroids kicked in – that crazy zone where nothing at all leaves me spent with emotion.
Today my missing Thanksgiving hits me full force. I can feel the truth of being gone. The party continues. I am gone.