Or, at least, end of chapter.
We have a lot of talking to do, a lot of planning...
When my parents called me, way back in 2000, to tell me that my mom was going in for surgery to remove a mass from her ovary, a possibly cancerous mass, I knew at that moment. I knew she was not going to survive her illness. Somehow, I knew. And when we got some good news about her bloodwork, how she seemed, initially, to be responding well, it always seemed odd to me. Of course I was thrilled that she was doing well, but...well, I don't know. I didn't trust it. In nine months she was gone.
After my water broke, when I was laying there in one of the hospital beds, words passed through my mind, "Well, that was it. My one chance is over." I know I've told that story before. And last fall, last year, I believed, that we still had another chance. Well, I wanted to believe it, anyway.
Keep the info and advice coming. I'll keep you posted.
Thanks for being here.