I lay mostly in my garden room now. Today, it is extremely hot and I can hear my daughter squelch scream laughing through the french doors and someone washing the dishes
through the door in the other room. For a few minutes, I pretend I have the flu.

My back hurts and I am unable to walk on my own. Apparently the nerve block didn't work. Nor did the cisplatin or bevacizameb or green juice or radiation therapy, or massage or acupuncture or 5 mushroom formula, because it seems my bones hurt, my back and side ribs hurt, and walking looks more like collapsing.

Am I complaining? Hells no. Well maybe a little bit, but the thing is: 1) Besides my usual badass community of support, my entire immediate family is here to rally around me. and 2) I still have my wits about me more ore less. Yes - I could still fight. I could get myself a wheelchair and pretty soon some oxygen tanks and tubes and read and read about how to beat this. But the thing is, it's time for me to make peace. It's time for me to admit to myself that everyday the Pain is getting worse.

I like my garden room. I remember painting it (mosaic green) with my friend Kathy while I was about 6 months pregnant { I had a mask on.) (eco paint, ok?). we were laughing a lot because we are idiot painters, but then for some reason when Bron Y Aur from Physical Graffiti came on, I started to cry silently. It might have been the first time I had ever cried actual tears "of joy".

We moved Luka's room upstairs about 2 years ago, and now the mosaic green room has French Doors, that lead out to a pretty back porch (built by Frank Camp and Aaron Beam and my husband), which leads out to 1/3 acre of pretty gardeny joyousness.

Every few days, my dear friends Kathy and Thandi wash my body with soft cloths and peppermint soap. They did some research and found that babyoil in the wash cloth moistens the skin enough to make it less sensitive to touch. It works. My naturopath, Molly O'Neill, comes to this room to give me acupuncture and I am lucky enough to have two friend massues, willing to enchant the garden room with their magic Pain relieving skills, Danielle Lanier, and Ana Helena DeCastro (who insisted on coming and doing some work on my family and friends who have been busy bees around the house and who's homemade cottonseed oil probably works even better than baby oil so maybe we should try . My Dad brought me a Hot Fudge Sundae from Dairy Queen.

I'm not trying to boast (again) about all of the great friends and family I have. It's just time to let go of the Pain. It's time to teach my daughter the beauty and strength in surrender; it's time to show her the absolute courage it takes to fight with all the power you have and then realize the
Pain is not going to stop until you give it the word.

My beloved bathers, my massues, my acupuncturists (thank you Tom at IEP as well); they cannot stop my furious cancer, but they can help me fight this enveloping Pain.

And when the Pain is gone, I can hear endless belly laughs on the porch and pretty music in the far off distance.