Looking Back: I never once left my body. From the moment I go the news, I moved in, unpacked the dishes, and made the bed. I hung up a picture of me, taken on my 50th birthday, that best depicted my lively fighting spirit. It captures me sitting outside in the sunshine, clapping my hands and laughing out loud. My long curly hair is flowing free, and my right foot is raised as if I am about to leap off the step and do an Irish jig. In overalls and purple work-shirt, and sporting my new hip sunglasses, I look sassy and ready for most anything. That was before. Sometimes I miss that shorn me who was clearer of purpose than I have ever been before or since. I miss her absolute calm and her almost unwavering conviction that she would prevail. It frightens me to give voice to that longing. "Watch out what you wish for" screams softly in my brain. I do not miss the fatigue, the fear, or the pain. I am clear that I am not calling back my illness. What I am doing is calling forth that woman of quiet determination and inviting her to dance with me.

Moving Forward: I said I was thankful for these two young men, who are my sons and my teachers. Kirk said he was grateful for all our health. He looked like he was going to cry, and I knew he was thinking about me. This anniversary has been harder for him than for me in some ways. I love that he never takes my health for granted, and yet I wish I could reassure him that from now on I'll be fine. None of us believes in long-term fine any more; we settle for right now and know we are luckier than most.