It's been one of those good weeks, the kind where I feel almost like I'm back to the kind of mother I was before I needed a cane to walk, before I needed a nanny to help me chase Daniel, before chemo made me tired. The kind where I have the energy to pack up the car and bring the kids to storytime at the Red Balloon (where Daniel freaked out because he didn't like the loudness of the singing and applause), or to play and pick out books at the library (where we got two of the Madeline books and a really cool one about trains). The Republican National Convention is in town, and the buzz in the air is palpable! OK, just kidding about that — I barely notice a difference over here in my little pocket of St. Paul, just five miles away from the action. But the air is chilly and fallish, and it's the kind of week where the fears of cancer are way in the back of my mind, and I actually dare to think, maybe it's all going to turn out OK.
Tomorrow is my second-opinion appointment at the Mayo Clinic. Tomorrow I have to face it all again, think about it. Tomorrow I have to shift my frame of reference back from mom to cancer patient, and maybe we'll even have to make some tough decisions about treatment. I'm not dreading it, exactly. More like I'm not really thinking about it very much. Not yet. Please, just a little more time to feel normal.