I have been home just over a week, since the Wednesday before Labor Day. It's so much better than being in the hospital.
I have not been in a writing mood. No, that's not quite right. I have wanted to write — letters to family; blasts to keep telling the story. But I have serious writer's block.
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All of my siblings, plus my brother's wife, Kate, came to town the day before I came home and stayed as long as their schedules allowed. They brought some pictures from our childhood to help us reminisce, which generated some smiles. We got in a live game of Scrabble with a few of the regulars from our family gatherings in New England, which was also fun, even if I did come in third of four, and Kate won as usual.
Unlike the last sibling infusion in early July, this visit was a good-bye, so there was a lot more crying.
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This is a very strange time, the days after the last day on which I could see many more years forward in this life, no matter how unlikely.
I know people have enjoyed and admired my positive outlook, humor, and willingness to share what's going on, often in great detail. About all I'm willing to share right now is that I'm not feeling much like that person these days.
That, and my gums have recently swollen to the point that I need to take in liquid foods only. We're trying to see if there's something short of extracting teeth that we can do to ease the problem. Extracting teeth doesn't feel right for someone where I am in life — it would mean going back into the hospital, the wounds would probably never heal because of my immune system, it would open up additional avenues for infection. At this point, I'm aiming for the best possible days, not as many days as possible.
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The response to my previous blast, in which I laid out the path as we know it, has been humbling and comforting. Thank you.