Rebecca Hogue

I’m in a time of remembering and a time of waiting. Waiting for the text or call that will tell me that another of my friends has passed from this earth

I didn’t know what a swollen lymph node felt like. This is first time I’ve felt a swollen lymph node that wasn’t in my glands. Of course, that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. I can now say that I know what a swollen lymph node feels like, and once it goes away, I’ll be able to release any underlying stress associated with it.

And every time I ask it, I pretty much get the same answer – based upon the characteristics that are known about my cancer, my oncologist recommends 8-10 years of some form of hormone therapy. I chatted with my oncologist on the phone today about this – mostly because it was bugging me, but also because I’m thinking about what our life my be like in 2 years, and was hoping that didn’t involve regular cancer therapy. The answer is still 8-10 years of some form of hormone therapy. Of course, every time I hear the 8-10 years bit I get sad – even though I’m now closer to the eight than I am to zero –

I remember during my childhood there was this participACTION campaign about trying to get people off the couch and exercising more. I can hear the sounds of music associated with the commercials, and remember the “breaks” they had