I don't usually get up early, but when I do, I love to watch the golden light creep over the hill outside our window, revealing the greens, yellows and browns of the foliage in their most radiant light. It's almost like all the plants just came out of the shower and are at their very freshest. It is also really quiet, aside from the sound of the occasional bird, which really adds to this feeling of serenity.
It surprises me, how much I'm loving this morning time, because people who know me have heard me say again and again that I prefer the twilight hours -- and it's true. I do love to watch the sun sink into the horizon as everything goes gray, to black, to mist. It's especially nice with a glass of wine and someone you love to talk to.
For the last few days, I myself have been experiencing my own sort of "golden time." I can't exactly pinpoint when it happened, but I have started to really believe that I just might live through this and go on to live a long, regular life. Probably a lot of you had that faith all along, but a healthy future wasn't even something I dare dream about without holding my breath, until now.
I still have a long way to go, as for recovery, but something is different in my mind set. I've somehow managed to tap into hope and and I'm not letting go.
In little news, I went to clinic yesterday. All my blood count are good (the Nurse Practitioner even used the word "perfect" again) -- even my liver numbers are within normal range. Most importantly, real stomach pain is becoming more and more a trial of the distant past. I've even started some oral Magnesium pills, in preparation for getting off the IV drip (I am actually down to the drip every other day!). It will be a beautiful day when they remove my PiCC line completely. Caretakers and I will rejoice because it will be the end of "double coverage" -- one adult for Zach, one for me -- a great source of lingering consternation for everyone involved. (Our google calendar looks like a Gay Pride party planner all the time -- and we don't really even go anywhere.) Once my line is removed, though, there's less chance for sudden infection and so I will be allowed to be on my own for hours at a time. What will I do first? Maybe something a little like the opening scene to "Risky Business," but perhaps a little more "me?" I can't even imagine what it's like to be completely alone.
Happy days to you all,
Katie
Comments (6)
Katie,
That was so beautifully written and so beautiful to read. Your golden moments make me so happy. And great news about the test results, too!
I harbor the hope that one day we will have a European adventure together. Perhaps savoring wine and gelato in Italy. Or meeting up in Paris to consume massive amounts of cheese. And we'll exchange cute stories about our kids and speak lovingly of our husbands. And then have some more cheese.
Hope is one of my favorite things. Hold tight to it. I will be wishing good, PiCC-removal thoughts for you!
love,
Charlene
p.s. Remember Tisha? I stumbled on her profile on Facebook. Turns out she's in the French Alps currently, though returning to Baltimore in a few weeks.She hurt her foot while doing something sporty and had to be helicoptered off the mountain! Wow... the riskiest thing I've done lately is have blood sausage for dinner last night.
Posted by Charlene | September 3, 2008 10:07 AM
Posted on September 3, 2008 10:07
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Great stuff Katie. I'm so proud of you, and impressed again by your spirit and eloquence. As my mom would say, "you are a toughie!"
Did you see the DNC? Obama's not bad, but you're an even better source of hope and inspiration! Sendin' it right back atcha.
Rock on.
-Aaron
PS - Looks like I'll be up in SF around the 14th. I'll give you a call to see if I can drop by!
Posted by Aaron | September 3, 2008 5:24 PM
Posted on September 3, 2008 17:24
Wow, you just made my day and then some!!!!!!!!!! I really look forward to the blurps and hope that you will publish them for others some day. Just heard that Jennifer T. (Al's daughter) is applying for jobs in Chicago.
Posted by Jamie Zarling | September 3, 2008 5:37 PM
Posted on September 3, 2008 17:37
Katie,
I love your hope. Yes, I keep some inside for you. Even skeptical old me, raised by hippie atheist radicals, prays for it for you. So I'm glad it's here for you now. My personal problem with hope is when things don't look exactly like I want or think I need them to, it's hard to accept them as good. So I think hope is acceptance that it will be good even if it doesn't look like we thought it should. I'm so Oprah right now.
I love you, Katie Buono.
Shona
Posted by Shona Mauro-Sachs | September 4, 2008 11:56 AM
Posted on September 4, 2008 11:56
Wow! This is great news! All of it! Wouldn't it be novel to see you guys again?! I am thrilled at the thought of it.
Luce and Zach should have a great time together these days.
Love,
A.
Posted by Adrienne Van Gorden | September 4, 2008 1:38 PM
Posted on September 4, 2008 13:38
what an awesome post this is. HOORAY! I am constantly sending good vibes to Marin. And we've taught Charlie to blow kisses. I'll make sure he blows some to the north today for you, and the wind will carry them to you. Keep your cheek open and ready for them won't you?
Love you!
Jonny
Posted by jonny | September 7, 2008 9:13 AM
Posted on September 7, 2008 09:13