Thursday, May 9, 2024

     It is still dark when I get up.  I turn on lights and make coffee and cereal. Slowly the sky light returns. I text my charming daughter to confirm my ride this morning to the urology clinic. As an old retired person, I don’t usually worry about what time to get up and dressed. I am expected at Building A, door 4, at 8:30. I repeat to myself, I am a building A, door 4, person. I identify myself with my birthdate at the front desk. Names are gone and now, all we have left, is numbers and letters.

     The cystoscopy was easy.  No visible tumors, yea.  Now I will continue with monthly chemo infusions for four months.

     Time to water my garden, fix lunch, take a nap. I am smiling a lot.