“One of my spots is ‘showing more density.’ That doesn’t sound...

“One of my spots is ‘showing more density.’ That doesn’t sound good. But the oncologist said we just need to wait. For more growth. For a clearer signal. There’s nothing to do but wait. It’s a fear unlike I’ve ever experienced. I know how aggressive it is. I know what’s going to happen in the end. But I’m trying to trust. That my body is healing the way it should. That the doctors are doing all they can. That the researchers are doing all they can. But it’s hard. And there are definitely days when I question if it’s all worth it: the chemo, the radiation, the side effects. Not that I’d ever stop or anything. But if I’m going to die anyway—why am I doing all this? Those are the harder thoughts. Those days happen. I try not to fight them. But I also try not to sink too deep. Because I want to get past those days. I want to get to a good day. Because good days happen too. Days when I’m present, and I’m not thinking about the future, and I can enjoy little things. A good day is a Sunday in the kitchen, with my dog Delta at my feet. Cooking is my passion. I can make Bolognese sauce all day, even though I’m not a little bit Italian. I usually like to keep the windows open so a little breeze can come through. There’s an enormous fig tree in our neighbor’s yard. The smell is amazing; it’s not the figs themselves, but the smell of the leaves. It’s perfumy, and enveloping, and calming. I wish I could candle it. The figs always bloom in the summer. Which is perfect for me, because the cancer makes me cold. So on hot afternoons my husband and I will head over to grab a bunch of figs. I don’t even think my husband likes figs. But he’s tall so he can help me. He doesn’t actually pick them for me, but he’ll pull down the branches so I can get them myself. Then afterwards we’ll take them home to make a fig jam. That’s a good day. Those still happen. And I want to have as many of them as possible. I hope that spot on my lung doesn’t grow. I really don’t want to go through treatment again. But I will if I have to. It might mean bad days. But I want to stay alive, really. I want to live. I have no idea how long my life is going to be. But I do want to live all of it.”