One month

Yesterday was one month since I received my cancer diagnosis. It's my time marker: before cancer, after cancer (BC/AC). It has been a whirlwind of tests and waiting. As if lung cancer wasn't enough, I got COVID for the second time (mild case, but it evaded the second booster I got at the end of May) and then my phone (with credit card) was stolen on a jam-packed subway in Paris, followed by a second pickpocket attempt later that day as I was climbing the stairs in a different metro station! I will not be returning to Paris; it's stressful to have to be so vigilant and concerned for my safety.

The benefit of doing targeted therapy (Tagrisso) is that we were able to take our two-week trip around Europe. This month has been hard, but it's also been filled with things that I/we love: seeing family and friends, trying local food, seeing cultural sites and great art, enjoying natural beauty. In Amsterdam, we got to visit my cousin Astrid (first time since I was 13!) and meet her family. 

In Leuven, we saw our friends/neighbors Manuel and Moriah and heard an incredible carillon concert in the library bell tower. Leland requested Sheep May Safely Graze, which was played at our wedding. 

In Paris I managed to climb the ~300 steps up the Sacré Coeur dome and was rewarded with breathtaking views. 

We agreed that Ljubljana is about the most picturesque city we've ever visited, and Lake Bled is stunningly beautiful. 

We haven't been able to avoid stairs or hills. Now whenever I see a lot of steps or a hill that's more than a minor incline, I feel a sense of dread. I used to either think nothing of it or see it as a challenge. Now I just wonder how much I'll be gasping for air. Two days ago we walked up to the castle above Lake Bled (we thought the shuttle would take us to the top, but it didn't). 

The sign said it was 300 meters to the top. It was a steep climb and I had to stop several times to catch my breath. I also couldn't keep up with two women in their 70s (?) walking at a leisurely pace. I recognize it's not a race, but this underscored just how bad my lung function is. Being physically fit and active is a core part of my identity, so it's hard to accept this physical limitation. There is no way I could do some of the hikes around State College right now. I'm not even sure I could make the short, steep climb from the bike path to my house without feeling winded. The oncologist said it could be 3-5 weeks before I notice any improvement; even then, I'm not sure how much of my lung function I will recover.

Recently my friend Gene posted a video from the memorial service for his wife and my friend, Kelly Ward, who died suddenly 4 years ago. The soundtrack for the video, Why Walk When You Can Fly, is by my favorite musician, Mary Chapin Carpenter. The lyrics encapsulate Kelly's approach to life, and also what I aspire to: 

In this world there's a whole lot of trouble, baby
In this world there's a whole lot of pain
In this world there's a whole lot of trouble, but
A whole lot of ground to gain
Why take when you could be giving?
Why watch as the world goes by?
It's a hard enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly?

In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow
In this world there's a whole lot of shame
In this world there's a whole lot of sorrow
And a whole lot of ground to gain
When you spend your whole life wishing
Wanting, and wondering why
It's a long enough life to be living
Why walk when you can fly?

And in this world there's a whole lot of golden
In this world there's a whole lot of pain
In this world you've a soul for a compass
And a heart for a pair of wings
There's a star on the far horizon
Rising bright in an azure sky
For the rest of the time that you're given
Why walk when you can fly?