Looking back through an old album, I came across my first-grade report card. The teacher commented on the back that I was a "beautiful reader." But on the inside right was a bold check mark in the behavior column. Prophetic in a way. "Claims more than her share of attention."

Here I am battling terminal cancer and writing about it in the newspaper. Even have a web page on the Internet. Who in their right mind would tell the world what it is like to face death head-on? Me. I can’t go quietly into the night. It’s not my nature.

People can read about cancer. Quote statistics. Walk in the marathons. But until they have been down the road, they can’t passionately write about it.

This past year I’ve lost several friends to this dread disease. James died of lung cancer. Cindee and Bob died of breast cancer. (Yes, men do get breast cancer). June and Kevon died of bone cancer. Several more of my friends, Gary, Sue, Carol, Judy, Debby, and Ray are presently fighting the big "C." The great news is that most are doing well.

I am thankful for the good months I have had. The breast cancer is on the move. We know the lungs and lymph nodes are involved and probably the spine. I’ve lost weight and have enough pain to warrant twenty-four hour morphine. Oxygen and home respiratory treatments have been prescribed to help breathing.

Not long ago I had a frank discussion with one of my doctors.

"I am seriously considering stopping all treatment now."

He patted me on the back and told me to follow my "gut" feeling.

I breathed a sigh of relief. This atypical physician recognized that quality of remaining life is more important than quantity.

"O.K.," I said. "No more treatment."

It was a personal decision not to be taken as advice for anybody else. I still want to keep my options open. Know that this is written in ink, not blood or stone. Yet, for now it is the right decision for me.

Chemotherapy makes me feel like a toxic waste dump. I have been filleted in surgery and zapped with radar guns.

Poison, slash, burn. Guess my first-grade teacher had it right. I have been pretty desperate for attention.

       

   

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