Failure to Blog

So here's the short of it,
I haven't even opened the blog for eight days, and haven't blogged for nine days.

And here's the long

Well, it's been nine days since I wrote, or even wanted to write anything on the blog. On several days I told myself that I was going to blog. First I'd tell myself I'd do it in the late morning, then after lunch, then before dinner, then after dinner, then late - before I went to bed. Even when I felt well enough to open the computer and check e-mail, I wouldn't open the blog. The whole day would pass with one excuse and then another about why I wasn't blogging. By about day four, I knew that there was more to this than I was really understanding, but it was only yesterday sometime that I really sorted through what's been keeping me from the blog.

I've never minded my family and friends and friends who are like my family knowing even the smallest details of what's happening to me. I started the blog because it is just emotionally exhausting to tell the story over and over again, and I thought that blogging would be a way to share my journey with those who have, over the years, offered me such amazing support as I've faced other difficulties. And I have been on the receiving end in that regard - the support in the form of e-mails, blog comments, and cards has been remarkable. And each of you should know that all of those moments have given me strength and have bolstered my courage to face the next day.

So if all that's true, what was keeping my fingers from the keyboard? When I write the blog, I am sharing with you what lies deep in my heart. I've tried not to spare my fears, my hopes, or my sadness. As I write this now, I have tears and a hole as big as Kansas in my heart - for my Dad and my Mom as she faces this next chapter in their lives together, for my sweet dog, Suni, who I miss so much, and for my body's betrayal of me.

Now I know that cancer is not really a betrayal. And I know that the side effects of the chemotherapy are to be expected. But, when I was bed bound for days, and hardly able to walk to the bathroom, and had that unrelenting diarrhea, I felt like the strong body that I've depended on for all my life had absolutely betrayed me. I thought of all the women over the years who I've seen show up to work with the chemotherapy bald head and wondered how it was that they had been able to keep on going. I remembered our colleague, Dr. Lloyd, who year before last scheduled his chemotherapy for Friday afternoons so he could be at work on Monday, and who told his wife as he left for work each day, that of course he had to be at work, this was Dr. Lloyd's opus. And I wrestled with the self-image of Lynn as someone who would not be able to be strong. I'm still wrestling with this.

Then last week, my blood counts went down for the first time, and I jokingly told people that I was on house arrest. But that wasn't the worst of it. The week I started chemo, I didn't go see Dad because I made the decision that it wouldn't be the wisest environment for me to be in. The second week, I didn't go because my blood counts were low and I was told not to go. And the rest of the precautions just compounded it all. It was a joke, but it was an awful joke. House arrest - no digging in the dirt (read no gardening whether you ever did or not), no eating raw vegetables (of course you never want anything more than when you can't have it, salad please), and no being around any crowds or in places to be exposed to germs (all those times I griped about grocery shopping, can't I just go to Bi-Lo when there won't be many people there).

So the blog...... I couldn't write. I couldn't or maybe didn't want to confront those awful feelings and the sadness by dealing with it in a narrative from my heart.

I think, today, that I'll blog more or less regularly. But that is not a blog promise.

Thank you to each of you for your support and love.