AHHHH . . .

The past week has been, well, a lot. Baseball began, Little Man made his First Communion, we moved Daughter out of her dorm for the year, and we waited. And waited. Waited for news about what my Mom's prognosis would be . . .and it turns-out that she needs a pill. Yep. A pill. Now, I don't know much about this wonder drug yet, and it may have its own gnarly side-effects, but it means no chemo and no radiation. As one of my dear college friends would say, "Hip Hip!" (I think there was always supposed to be a "Hooray" attached to the end--but somehow we never got beyond the first two words). I know we're not out of the woods quite yet, but after hearing the word, "cancer" this news couldn't be any better. And, like clock-work, 30 minutes after the phone call from my Mom, I began to feel achy and fevery and the tell-tale cold sore reared its ugly self a bit more. My body said, AHHHH . . . and then, enough. I suppose one person can only hold so much at one time. Bedtime will be a blessing tonight, and the dreams will indeed be sweet. Cervantes mused, "God who sends the wound, sends the medicine," and I for one am glad that that medicine can come in the shape of a pill, or a pillow.