Thursday, August 23, 2012
My sweet assistant Pierrette had a birthday yesterday. I forgot. My mind has been fuzzy at best. Of course, in her kind way, once it came up, she ran to the rescue of my guilty heart before I could apologize, and gave ME a hug. The tightest hug. Which was welcome, though I continued to apologize for the rest of the day. And this bouquet, tucked into her vintage birthday gift, waits for her today. And cake too. Two birthdays then, for a one very deserving of both.
Mom & Dad came on Saturday. Mom is receiving treatments here at Vanderbilt for the next 3 weeks. I could go into to numerous details of her struggle with lymphoma over the past four years, yet all I'd care to say now is that we all feel incredibly fortunate and blessed to have been granted all that we need and more to deal with her specific circumstances. I say that in regards to family, friends, faith and medical care. This is the first round of treatments here at Vanderbilt instead of at home for her and of course she'll be staying with us. I told her yesterday at the hospital that I'm really sorry that I'm enjoying her stay so much. Because I don't want her here for that. But I do want her here. Absorbing all that she is to me, and watching her be the most gracious, thankful, fun person I'll ever know.
Last night I forced myself out on a run with Leo that I didn't feel like taking, but knew I needed. As we were winding our way into the cool, dusky woods of the trail, I looked intently at the path ahead of me. I've run it so many times. I thought to run it with my eyes closed, only holding the leash. Wondered if I could arrive safely to my place with nothing but trust in the motion of moving forward. I closed them. Unafraid. I ran. Quite a ways, seeing nothing.
Then Leo stopped for a pee and the leash almost tore my arm off with a halt. Likely his own humble way of keeping me from running into a tree. Good boy.