later, it will be good

had to post a couple of the hospital shots at some point, i guess. in a few months i will be outrunning these boys. not out-biking, but running, sure.

yesterday i was sitting in the lobby of the hospital of the university of pennsylvania, waiting for a call-back on whether my x-ray of the day looked acceptable. mom and i were watching the world walk by, all different shapes and sizes and colors. i love being in places where there is so much diversity. and there are so many stories.

there was me, sitting there, pretty much obviously some sort of cancer patient (it is getting harder to tell, because my hair is growing in quickly), facing a plethora of issues and hopes and fears, and walking past is a relative or friend of someone who's just had a baby, with an "its a girl" balloon and flowers. so much in front of the little she-monster. so much to learn and see and do; it is exciting to think about. and it is why hospitals just amaze me, because they are magical places where people go to have hopes realized, miracles performed, and joy granted. of course there can be other things. but for me, a lot of it is about hope and how there are so many people there reaching out to help and change things for the better. i never wanted to spend so much time in a hospital, believe me. but i have learned a lot about HUP in particular, and i feel comfortable there. empowered to do what needs to be done in order to fix this. and i have people looking out for me who really know what they are doing.

anyway, there i sat, with mom, waiting for the phone to ring, and this woman taps me on the shoulder and says, "you look like you're going through something like what i was going through a year or so ago". without getting to any details, we certainly were cancer sisters in some way, and she had good things to say. but the thing i needed most to hear, because what it pertains to is what has had me reeling over the past week or so is this: "later, it will be good". she had an accent, perhaps european of some sort, and it was perfectly put. and just what i needed. it made me cry. you see, things are falling into place for chemo and radiation and meetings are being arranged and this is all exactly what i want and need. i look forward to more. i need it. but at the same time, this far in and with that much more to go (so i know right now) there is a sense that there is just no getting out. and what of life with cancer but without treatment? i try hard each day to live only in that day, only in that moment. but looking ahead at the calendar for meetings with doctors and trips and work can be daunting, and i really needed to know, from someone who knows, that it will be good. i knew this inherently, but indeed, it reduced me to tears because it is my single greatest hope right now. that as good as it is now to be fighting, it can be good once again without the hospital and the doctors each week. good to move on and monitor and live life differently, but fully, once again. i know it won't be the same, but i think it will be better, somehow. and then one day i can say to someone, later, it will be good.