Greetings everyone...

There is so much spaciousness in this day.  The nurses aren't coming in as often.  My treatment is on hold, for the most part, until later tonight when they begin the sodium bicarbonate in preparation for my second rigorous round of methotrexate this week.  I'm sitting in my hospital bed with little to do.  If I were home now, I would be more active, perhaps creating some art.  But here there is just this hospital bed, a window looking out at the brick wall of the wing next door, and the TV which I'm determined not to turn on.  This hospital floor seems very quiet to me at the moment.

I have heard there is another patient around my age with my type of Leukemia on this same floor.  She isn't doing so well as she has the Philadelphia chromosome.  I wish I knew her room number so we could chat (if she wished), share notes, and be a support to one another.  It's the second time in two days that I've heard of women in the hospital with ALL who have the chromosome and aren't doing well.  I am so grateful to have dodged the bullet of that chromosome.  There must be some purpose in that, and it gives me deep hope that this disease has come, not to take my life, but to free me to live more of life.

My blood counts continue to be spectacular (blessings and gratitude to my body for being so responsive and such a warrior!)  Today they went up yet again (a good thing) and all of them are in the normal range, just a few days after the methotrexate.  The more I learn about ALL, the more I understand that this is no small feat...and consquently, the more grateful I am to those mysical, magical forces within that bring life and healing.

I didn't feel quite well enough to be home this weekend and am not feeling "sick" enough to lay around the hospital all day.  Fortunately, I got a day pass yesterday.  Peter and I went out to lunch, then to a sweet little neighborhood park where we laid on Mother Earth for about an hour in silence, snuggling.....then to Coldstone, where I got a DELICIOUS banana caramel crunch, and finally to the movie True Grit.   I had been out a little over 6 hours and was exhausted when we got back.  Felt sooo good to stretch out and give myself over to this strange place I've been calling home for the last 3 months....

Today I get another day pass and Peter and I will drive up to my house to pick up some art supplies so I can have some creative focus during the next two weeks.  It will help, believe me, as I'll be going back down, down, down into the dark chemo cavern: spinal chemo, brain fog, nausea, bone pain, blood transfusions....for the second week in a row.

It is a journey of utmost surrender.  If I try to look for an escape hatch, I find none.  There can be a sense of being trapped by pain, for there is nothing I can do with my will force to change "what is" except keep positive thoughts, feelings, images, and the love of family and friends very near to my heart.  When the occasional tears come, I can feel compassion for my human-ness.  What happens to us doesn't doesn't define us, but how we respond to it does....  This experience is forging within a new strength I didn't know I had.

What gets me through sometimes is the knowledge that this experience will have an end.  There will be a day when I walk out of the hospital (I will frame my discharge papers!).  Life, with all its potential, will be there to greet me.  I will be somehow freer inside, perhaps a little wiser and stronger, and more giving.   I know I will not take things for granted as I used to.  Like health.  And I know that LOVE is truly all that matters in the end.  This experience has shown me that in spades.  Love and service to others. This desire to help others go through Leukemia is growing within me.  I'll definitely be looking for some ways to volunteer.

Much love to all my friends and family who are keeping up with my progress.  Your caring means so much!

Heidi