July 8th is frightfully close. I call tomorrow to see what time I'm scheduled for. Why don't we just call this cancer thing off? I'll have vacation time on my books after July 16th; maybe instead of surgery I could fly out of the country and sit in an Irish pub drinking Jamison's or Guinness or Harp. That really sounds like a much better idea than having my tumor and some lymph nodes removed.

I can't run away from my cancer. I'm an adult. Adults don't put up a fuss when poked and prodded and stitched. Adults say, "I will do anything I need to do to fight this cancer." We understand why the procedures are being done unlike cats, dogs, or kids. When my cats have had surgeries they have no idea why they can't eat after midnight the day before the surgery. "Mom, you're up and we're hungry." This Thursday morning I'll have to watch everyone else eat.

Now that I'm finished complaining I want to talk about the spiritual side of all this. On Sunday I was a lector and proclaimed about Jerusalem, "Oh that you may suck fully of the milk of her comfort, that you may nurse with delight at her abundant breasts."(Isaiah 66:11 NAB). Does that seem ironic to anyone but me? I told Father Dunstan that I would be having surgery this Thursday and he laid his hands on me and prayed for me. Then it seemed like his homily was meant for me. In the Gospel, the sending of the 72 (Luke 10:1-12, 17-20), Jesus tells his disciples to eat what is put in front of them when staying at a house. Father Dunstan said we who give care need to be ready to receive care as well. We are not to refuse the food (love) they put before us. I don't think it's possible to survive cancer without accepting love.

I am spending my pre-surgery days getting housework done. Some times are filled with fear and others are filled with a quiet acceptance of whatever God wants to throw at me. I know that God and my friends and family are with me every step of the way.