Anniversaries are moments that we mark on our calenders, the date on which an event occurred in some previous year. Anniversaries are usually pleasant moments, but not always. DDay was not a pleasant day but we remember the date June 6.
For Hazel and I, an anniversary, not unlike DDay is approaching. An anniversary so repelling and discourteous that it picked one of the most happy dates of the year to rear it's ugly head, and we remember it, oh lord do we remember it. Christmas eve is for most of the world a happy expectant day, for some a holy day, a happy day. It is not a day when you and your whole being is grabbed and shaken with news that is so unmannerly to steal away the joys of the season and replace it with fear, apprehension, and grief. But that is what happens when a doctor picks Christmas Eve to tell you that cancer has invaded your body. The Christmas Eve proclamation was followed in quick succession by an operation, two months of radiation treatments and the start of five years of a medication called Arimidex.
After the holidays Hazel will be scheduled to receive mammograms again. The apprehension which was not there a year ago will certainly accompany the scheduling of mammograms from now on. If positive thinking can be a factor, then everything will be fine.
Hazel has been a soldier through it all except for some rare moments she hides in the bedroom for a moment of letting go.
She has received many kind words from bloggers who wish her well and I wish them in return many blessings for doing that. It helps in most cases I believe to talk about an illness.
There is new hope that someday a cure for breast cancer will be found. A doctor from the Cleveland Clinic believes he may have found it, but time will be needed, and test after test will have to be run. Here is a piece from Cleveland television on the progress being made.