not such great news from Deborah

Dear people I am fond of,

It’s beginning to be hard to keep track of who knows what, so let me start with an update. Brace yourselves; it’s not good news.

Since catching a cold in February Val has had a nagging cough. Through various trips to the health clinic she was diagnosed with another cold, cough-variant asthma, allergies, sinus-infections and the like.

Last week she coughed up a bit of fresh-looking blood. In short order she had an x-ray, a CAT scan, and a biopsy. We await final test results tomorrow, but the pulmonary doctor who performed the biopsy yesterday was pretty certain: he believes it’s lung cancer.

To be forthright, we are reeling right now with unbelief, grief, terror and confusion. Much of the day I’m so terrified I can hardly breathe. It all happened so quickly, and with so little warning. We’ve been on the phone and computer with what seems like hundreds of friends and relatives since the strange week began, crying and explaining the little we know so far. On the other hand, the outpouring of love has been instant and humbling. Our house is full of people and dinners are already appearing on our doorstep. A friend is flying in this weekend. People are offering us free acupuncture, referring us to their therapists and helping us navigate our new HMO. For every doctor’s visit we bring an entourage. We are just beginning to figure out what kind of help we are going to need, and I am open to any ideas or experiences you can share that might help. Soon I will have a blog or CarePages page in place, some sort of clearing house for information. Until then, please feel free to contact either or both of us by email, phone or text (contact info is below). It may take us a while to get back to you but we are grateful for every bit of support.

And I would deeply appreciate it if you would consider calling in any favors you might have with the universe, and otherwise holding us in your hearts and thoughts. If you’d like something to do right away (I always want that), Val is suggesting people do something life-affirming and dedicate it to her, sending that energy our way. Meanwhile, the late spring here is spectacular and we are trying to immerse ourselves in it. Tonight we went to gawk at the baby ducks in the rhododendron garden, and I planted basil and salvia in our own garden. We mean to keep living and loving, mulching plants and making popcorn, reading, playing music, walking the dog. This diagnosis is uninvited and intimidating, but it is only one small part of our much bigger lives. Val’s the most brilliantly alive person I know, and we plan to keep it that way.

Love,
Deborah

p.s. We are avoiding freaking ourselves out by looking things up online or comparing our stories to others’, so we’d rather not hear about that sort of thing just at present; although we welcome any stories about octogenarian lung cancer ass-kickers.